Her lips were unattractively pouted, and it seemed to protrude each day that greeted her woes; a victim of domestic violence. At a closer look at her, one could see a pretty woman whose face had been masqueraded by an ugly mask of a swollen face, from blows. These were blows from a husband who’d taken to fistcuffing on his wife.
As far as he was concerned, she was nothing but a mere cook and one to satisfy him when his libido aroused his sexual bestiality. One wondered if he kissed her lips and caressed her face he’d turned into a punching bag. What is an animal’s business with sweet romance anyway? It only thirsts for that thing between the female’s legs.
He never failed to exercise his knack for bestial treatment on her, when she’d gone against his obscure and fatuous rules. This day, she found her way outside. He’d always locked her in the room and had her battered as it pleased him that no neighbour may wade in. He followed her, his two arms clenched into fists. He’d torn her cloths, with just an underpant which tucked into her natal cleft, and only hid her womanhood from the eyes of the public.
The brassiere she had on was a little askew on her chest. It seemed to have been pulled and torn when she ran. He got to her, and held her before she could make her way out of the veranda. He drove punches into her face, gripped her by the hand, and pulling her back in. She held tight to a pillar. He overpowered her, scooped her from the floor and flung her waist to the pillar. She wailed.
“Olori buruku” he said.
Again, hit her waist hard on the pillar, the excruciating pain caused her to screech and scream. The neighbours thronged at him. They could not obey his warning anymore. He’d warned that he would kill whoever that came to settle a fight between him and his stoic wife, and the timid neighbours had taken this warning with fear, and only watched whilst he dealt with his wife. But this day, they could not stand it anymore.
“Kilo de?” He snapped at them, letting his wife off his grip. He searched for a weapon to attack his approaching neighbours. He found a machete. But his wife had scampered into the midst of people that had gathered. Blood dripped from her nostrils, and her lips had further protruded with blood on her low lip. He peered into the crowd. “Olori buruku” he said on sighting her. But she was in safe hands now; the women donated wrappers to have her covered. He looked at the crowd, it occurred to him he would be lynched should he attack anyone with his machete. The domestic violence heavy weight champion dropped the weapon and made to his room.
The story above is not a fiction. It’s a true life story. I saw all that during my first year at the university, in Ogun state. We witnessed Domestic Violence almost on daily basis, from a certain couple; the husband, a mad dog who should roam the street. When this madness persisted, I called my friends who were also students, living in the house, and we confronted him, told him his madness has to stop, and failure to do that, we were going to deal with him. We just could no longer bear the noise from their Domestic Violence. We’d thought the young man was going to be stubborn, but to our amazement, he started begging. That was when I knew that men who beat their wives only show off their muscles before their wives, but melt in fear before fellow men.
Women do have their right, but who protects their rights?
The first enemy a woman has is a woman. “Don’t you know he is the man, you’d better surrender to him” a woman would often advise a woman. And most women hardly support an adventurous woman. They rather gossip and hate her.
In certain homes, parents create their sons into beasts, teaching the ladies to live their lives in glorified slavery. “Ann, though you’re senior to him, you should know he is the man.” Parents, especially mothers often say to their daughters in the presence of their sons. Such a son who’d seen his mother or step-mother battered by his father, lives with the notion that women are nothing but mere servants to men. He grows up to become a beast, because he was not taught to respect women. He’s made to believe that domestic violence is a norm. He wasn’t taught that wife battery isn’t one of the ’10 Ways to Discipline a Woman’, and so he turns his wife into a punch bag.
The second enemy a woman has is the society. Though countries are now reviewing their laws to protect women. But then, laws are not known to abolish wrong-doings, it only makes people to do wrong in secret. The society itself indirectly encourages domestic violence. The minds of men who still dwell in the primitive era, have to be worked on, and conquered to favour, love, and adore women.
There’s a proverb in my language that says; “Okpotso oa ki ukpo na the thua kpe egbe” (the woman is not a cloth that should be worn tightly to one’s body), meaning a woman should never be trusted. The Yorubas have a saying that shares same meaning. I don’t know about the Ibos and the Housas, but I can bet with my best shirt that they do have such proverb. It shows the extent at which women are being discriminated in societies. You’re most likely not to respect who you don’t trust. And so the plight of a woman seems to go unabated. When it comes to domestic violence, women are mostly the victims.
To the men, love and care for the women. An injury on the one you truly love is an injury to yourself. Say no to domestic violence.