She isn’t a childhood friend and we didn’t grow up together. She’s someone I met during my master’s program. She was struggling with a subject I was very proficient in. One day after class, she came with an open book, without greetings or introduction, she pointed at the chapter and cried for help......Read The Full Article>>.....Read The Full Article>>
We sat under a shed where our life began. We talked about the chapter until we started opening up the chapters of our own lives. She is a single mother. She suffered the flaws of a man who wouldn’t commit or stay in one place. Her daughter was three. She applied for the master’s program just to run away from the hurt of love gone bad.
From that day we became inseparable—inseparable through suffering and care we gave to one another. Surprisingly, she advised me always not to give up on love. “Love may bite, sting or cut too deep but never say enough is enough. Continue saying yes because one day you may find what’s yours.”
So I said yes to a lecturer. Right after our master’s program, we got married. Efe was there, fanning my face and smiling while I gave my will away in a vow. “Until death do us part,” I said. “Until death do us part,” he also vowed.
A year later, I knew the death that would do us part might come from my marriage itself. I wanted to part before my marriage became the reason for my death. He hit me with a belt and it left a cut on my skin. He spat on my face because I dared serve his food cold. He raped me when I was experiencing menstrual cramps and told him I couldn’t do it because of that.
I perfected the art of hiding my pain from the world and from Efe. One afternoon, she looked at me for a few seconds and said, “There’s something you’re not telling me. Your lips can keep a secret but your body is screaming.”
I broke down and confessed my suffering. I was two months pregnant. I put my head on her shoulder while crying and telling her I wanted to leave. She didn’t say a word that day. Even her silence comforted me. Later in the evening, she sent me a message, “Carry the child gracefully, maybe it’s the child that will change everything.”
The child came but nothing changed. He beat me when the child was only two months old. He didn’t make love to me. He preferred to take it with force and aggression. All he ever wanted was to dominate me in everything. Efe said, “Start saving money. A lot of it. I’ll save some on your behalf. We’ll need it when the time comes.”
I had to leave my six-month-old baby with Efe so I could attend a program I didn’t need to attend. I wanted to be away from home for a while but couldn’t do it with a baby strapped behind me. Efe took him in for one week. Again, my husband was livid. It turned into a fight. Efe said, “Let’s call the police.” My lips were bleeding but I shook my head. I told my parents instead. They told me issues like this are part of marriage. I should stay mature and handle it.
For four years, I lived in torture but couldn’t talk to anyone but Efe. My elder brother stormed my house one day shouting and looking for my husband. He wasn’t home. He screamed, “If he dare touch you again call me.”
How did my brother know about it? Efe told him. She felt I needed a rescue. My brother broadcasted the whole issue for everyone to hear but they all said, “Marriage is like that.”
It was raining when I finally left home to a new place Efe had rented and decorated for me. We used the money we saved. She took my phone from me that day thinking my husband was going to call. He didn’t call until five days later. He called my parents to report that I was missing and my parents called me to order me to go back home. It was on a loudspeaker. Efe screamed, “She’s not going anywhere. She’s staying here until you return his drink.”
My mom called Efe a bad influence. “That’s why you’re not married. Do you want to make my daughter a born-one just like yourself? It won’t work. God won’t allow you.”
Efe took my son away to live with her so I could rest and think properly. On weekends, she’ll come with the kids. She’ll cook for me, clean for me and wash my dirty clothes for me. I joked, “I need a wife like you. Will you marry me?” She retorted, “Ain’t you already my husband?”
My marriage is over. Efe is still here, taking care of me as if I were her daughter or the man she married. Sometimes we make true love look like something that happens only between a man and a woman in a romantic love. Same as soulmates. But because of Efe and the role she plays in my life, I’ve come to believe that a soulmate can be that friend and the love of our lives can also be that friend who never leaves our side.
Efe has a man now. A man she loves truly. Sometimes she’s scared. Sometimes she feels like it’s going to end the way all others ended. I tell her, “True love exists. It might not be as flashy as the ones we see in movies but trust your gut. Go, believe it will work, give it your all. If it works we’ll rejoice. If it doesn’t, I’m here for you. We’ll still rejoice.
