Sarah's Perspective

Some women picked the wrong men out of many. I have heard women complain of a whoring husband, but I always counted myself an exception. My husband, Evans, can be best described as every woman’s dream. He is handsome looking – well-built, intelligent and smart. Besides, he is a man of his words. Furthermore, he attached so much love and interest to his family because he was out to ensure that he distinguished himself from his father. He grew up under a father who was a polygamist and an irresponsible one, who was also known as a wife beater with many legitimate and illegitimate concubines. Fortunately, none of my husband's siblings took after their father. When he asked for my hands in marriage, my mother was afraid, judging from his background. But today, he had proved everyone wrong by living beyond their expectations.

As a policy, he hardly kept late night except of recent, and I was surprised at his sudden change of attitude. This was not the same man I married and loved so much, who also loved me in return.

“Welcome back, dear.”

I greeted with a warm smile when he got into the house with his key. Although, I had been angry while I waited for him, but decided to control my anger. After all, I did not know what had kept him this long, but he was surprised at my calmness and smiles because that was not what he expected. He expected that I should be angry and jealously asked him where he had been, but he saw calmness that depicted lack of concern and love. What he failed to understand was that I had been crying while praying for his safe return. Every woman who loves her husband should be distraught when he keeps late night. I truly had a full doze of it. Unfortunately, Evans only saw my smiling face that covered a broken heart. Then, I walked towards him for a hug and if possible, a peck, but I was disappointed. He threw my love back at me the hard way.

“Slap”

At this point, my head spun around, and I was confused for some seconds. The tears which I had suppressed flowed freely as though a tap were turned on.

“Evans.”

That was the only word that could come out my mouth because I was experiencing that for the first time in our marriage, so I could not think of how else to react. Then, I looked at my lovely husband of twenty years, and I could not believe it was him who was acting in this manner. All the same, I managed to ask amidst tears droplets and surprise

“You slapped me, hubby?”

Then he blurted out at once as though he was waiting for me to speak.

"Yes, and I will do it again and again. I heard people say that they mistakenly married witches instead of wives. I thought they were fairy tales, now I can see the wisdom in their claims.”

I looked at my husband who was attempting to lose his tie while holding back my tears and restraining myself from crying out.

Then, I became afraid that he may be under a spell and may do something that both of would regret. Now, his eyes were as red as a coal of fire, which scared me to my wits. Meanwhile, he was panting and sweating profusely like one who just completed one thousand five hundred meters race.

'How would I explain to the children that the love, peace, and unity they enjoy in the family were about to give way?'

I mumbled l. I looked at the time and, it was past 11pm, and I imagine that his meal that was on the dining table may need to be warmed, so, I decided to do that. I carried the food and headed towards the kitchen.

'What has come over Evans?'

I wondered.

I could not understand why he thought I must be responsible for his plight. He felt I do not care any more about him, that was why I did not give him a call to find out where he was. But I did not do all that because I do not want him to feel I was suspecting him. I did not call or complain like other women when they were about losing their husbands because I would not want to make life more miserable or complicate things the more for him. I was aware that he had been through a lot in the office that week.

A woman has no possession of her life; if she complains, she would be beaten up, if she does not complain, she would be beaten up as well. What an unfair life for women.

He felt that by slapping me, he would remind me that he was still the husband as he thought I was fed up with him and wished him dead. I could see the picture of an intimidated man who was about losing his ego. Then, he decided to walk to his room to avoid another violent move that may lead to a fight, thereby waking the children up from their sleep and disturbing the Residential Area. After placing the food into the microwave, I walked back to the living room to see what his next line of action would be.

“Where are you coming from, Evans?”

I asked as he was climbing the staircase to our bedroom.

Now, the question came like a two-edged sword which pierced through his heart and crippled his steps. I guess my voice reminded him of the first time we met. Or better still, he was not expecting the questions.

'How can I ever slap my wife?'

He muttered. Then, I divulged.

"Evans, do not let it cross your mind that the fact that I am calm connotes cowardice. I just stand by my principle, which says that two wrongs do not make one right.”

Now, I hastily walked back to the kitchen to check the food. I never looked at him nor waited for a response.

However, he stood there confused as he watched me walk back to the kitchen.

'Why would she bother to reheat the food under this circumstance? The food got cold as a result of my returning late. Yet, she took the pain to do that.'

He thought to himself.

The food was his favorite. Potatoes from Jos, Plateau State, North Central of Nigeria which most Nigerians preferred to call Irish Potatoes. As for Mr. Evans, Obi, it was Jos Potatoes or better still Berom Potatoes. His first encounter with potatoes was when his uncle who lived in Jos brought it to the village. The uncle was fondly called 'Uncle Jos' and as such the potatoes were named after him.

If only he knew the pain I took to get that, as it was not the season and not even sold in the neighborhood.