“I married a terrible man,” I told my friends. “I married an ungrateful wife,” he looked deep into my eyes and told me. One day, when our troubles came to a crescendo, I descended on him heavily; “You call me names to make me look like a terrible wife. Why don’t you leave me? Why don’t you divorce me and live happily ever after?”.....Read The Full Article>>.....Read The Full Article>>
He was silent for what looked like an eternity. When he opened his mouth, he said, “Thank you for telling me what to do. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this all this while.”
He was serious about it so he called my mom. My mom handed the phone over to my dad because she thought it was a more serious issue than she could handle. My dad called me after talking to him. He was sober. His voice sounded like there was tears choked somewhere; “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you two solve your problems like all adults do?”
We had been married for three years with a two-year-old son. My husband was doing very well when we got married but within a year, like dominos do when struck, his business fell first and everything else followed, including our marriage. I had a job that didn’t pay much but I promised to hold him down until he got something better to do.
We couldn’t pay rent a year later so we had to move to a neighborhood my childhood didn’t ever dream of being there. It’s an old site where old buildings got pulled down every day. In the morning, we are awoken by the sound of construction machines. In the evening we go to bed listening to the sound of a drilling machine from yonder.
I got depressed. I looked at my husband and blamed him for everything. “Samson deserves better than this and you know it. Why don’t you find something else to do to take us from this doldrums?” He defended himself; “Should I go and steal from the street just to make you happy? I know you’re very ungrateful but remember how our lives used to be.”
Our lives were better that was why I was on him to get us back to that place. I knew he could do it but wasn’t doing it because he had allowed life and other series of unfortunate events to weigh him down. I could have done more than I was doing but I had a two-year-old son strapped to my hips. He moved wherever I moved. I couldn’t leave him to go out there and hustle. My mobility and how far I could go was restricted.
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One night, I told him to contact his elder brother. He and his elder brother had a business together but somewhere along the line, they fought and split up the business. My husband couldn’t keep up so everything came falling. His elder brother kept pushing and moving until he stabilized. He was doing well, buying cars and building houses but my husband swore never to have anything to do with him.
That night, I appealed to him. I cried. “If you allow me, I would call him on your behalf. He’s your brother. No matter what had gone down between you two, he’s still your brother. Give him a call. SOS, anything. We need help.”
He accused me of being a woman. “You women always want life on the easy road. A little bit of suffering and you would return to your vomit. I won’t do that. Never. But watch me get back on my feet again in a couple of months.”
He said the same thing during the days when his business was falling. He said the same thing when everything was on the floor. He always gave himself a couple of months but nothing changed. We fought again. It was about food I ate with my son and didn’t give him. He threw his hand that day and that was where I drew the line.
I packed a few things and left that dusty neighbourhood for my parents’ house. My dad wasn’t happy. He asked me to go back. When I didn’t, he called my husband and told him to come for me. He didn’t want to hear any excuses from him. He told him, “If you don’t want her again, I should rather come for her because I know she’s with you.”
I stayed for a week. He called one day to apologize. He was choked with remorse. For the first time, he uttered the phrase, “I miss you.” I screamed, “You missed who, ungrateful me?” I was proving harder but deep down I loved the fact that he missed me. I went back home a few days later. I went back without Samson. I knew I had to do something to help and I could do enough only when Samson wasn’t with me.
I started selling to the construction workers who came around to work. One thing about my husband, he has pride. His ego is bigger than the world. Looking at me hawking made him look less of a man. He was deflated. He tried to stop me but I asked him, “Do you have what we will eat tomorrow? We have bills to pay, do you have the money?”
These questions brought him to his knees while I stood tall with a tray of wares on my head.
There was an old storey building in front of our house. It hadn’t been habitable for years and everyone complained about how dangerous it had become to the people in the neighborhood. When it rained too hard, we were cared the building would come down. It was that dangerous.
One day, engineers came to inspect it. A few days later, they started working on it. Piece by piece they chipped the building until it all came down one day. Not long afterwards, they started putting up a new storey in its place. My husband would stand in front of our house looking at the work going on over there, unaware of the shrill deafening sound the workers made.
One evening, I joined him. We talked about how money solves everything including building a new house in place of an old one in a matter of months. I reminded him of the days when we had money and the places we could go. He said, “We’ll do it again. It’s just a matter of time.”
For once, he didn’t say a couple of months. I reminded him of his brother. I begged him to call him. He didn’t say a word afterwards.
One evening, I saw him on the phone smiling and giggling. When I passed by he said, “George extends his greetings.” “George? Is he the one you’re talking to?” I asked. He nodded. When I changed the pitch in my voice, he put his finger on his lips, signalling me to shut it. George is his elder brother.
He went out often from that day on. Anytime he came back and I asked where he went, he answered, “I went to see George.” I would smile in my head and say, “God, it’s working.”
Within a couple of months, my husband started dressing well again. He would come home with good things in his hand; “George said I should give you this.” I stopped selling to the workers. We ate without struggle because he provided. We paid our bills without running around looking for money.
The new building in front of us kept coming up block after block and it was beautiful the way things were shaping up. One evening when we stood there wondering about the progress of the building, I was quick to remind him of ours. We were also building, not with blocks but it was a building anyway. We were building our marriage.
Our marriage was also coming up a step after the other. When he finally contacted his brother, the old building in us started chipping off piece by piece until one day, when we had a year left on our rent, we packed our things and moved to a house his brother had built. I went back home for Samson. He started a new school. He was already five years old so we thought of having another one.
We have left that old neighborhood but I can’t stop thinking about the new building coming up right where the old one stood. It is the perfect metaphor for our marriage. When we allowed the old us to chip away, new life began. Sometimes I wonder why it took us so long.
Pride.
That’s the simple answer but in the end, however long we stood suffering in the sun, our day came and here we are now. There are many rivers to cross but we are better off than we used to. We no longer fight. He doesn’t call me ungrateful. He’s no longer a terrible man. Once we fixed what was wrong, the rest fell into place. The new building is beautiful. The one that was built in place of the old one.
