Father’s
wife ke???
An interesting article culled
from BN…Enjoy!!!
“We
need the courage to create ourselves daily, to be bodacious enough to create
ourselves daily – as Christians, as Jews, as Muslims, as thinking, caring,
laughing, loving human beings. I think that the courage to confront evil and
turn it by dint of will into something applicable to the development of our
evolution, individually and collectively, is exciting, honourable.” – Maya
Angelou...CONTINUE
Of all the deaths she could have
died, this is the one she would not have chosen.
Mitaire looked in the mirror and
swiped a damp lock of hair off her forehead. Forty-four minutes she had
crouched there, in the shower, letting the cold water wash over her as she
sobbed a pitiful lamentation to the gods.
Of all the deaths she could have
died, this is the one she would not have chosen.
She felt like she was dying. For
sure, this kind of heartbreak was a kind of death. She felt like her soul was
broken. In two days, her friend would dedicate her new-born son. The son she
had had for Mitaire’s husband. It was the most unpalatable pill to swallow. The
straw that broke the camel’s back… one she did not see coming. She, Mitaire,
the once-favoured… Mitaire the nurturer, the one who had faced many evils.
Mitaire the mother of a beautiful 5 year old girl who did not understand why
all of a sudden daddy kicked her out of the way when he came from work
yesterday. Apparently, her daughter was good, but not good enough.
Her husband’s family wanted an
heir. A son. And now he had one. And suddenly she was confronted with the
betrayal of her spouse, the wickedness of the people who once called her ‘Our
Wife’, and the hatred of the one she had once called ‘Dearest friend.’ This was
her, now.
Here she was – with only a
suitcase of her belongings flung into the remote guestroom furthest from the
luxury and the jubilations of the main house and closest to the servants’
quarters. So, it had come to this… 11 years of marriage and 8 painful miscarriages
after.
She chuckled bitterly at the
irony and thought to herself: What nobody knows is that I am afraid and
ashamed… A lot. I am afraid of failing myself and my child who trusts me. I am
ashamed of the abuse I have had to endure.
It takes a tremendous amount of
courage to face one’s evil, and truth be told, Mitaire had survived many evils
in her life. She was thirty-six, the age her mother was when she died in her
teenage arms. The grotesque graffiti left on the walls of her psyche by her
past left a psychological damage that lingered long after the end of her
parents’ twisted love story. She bore within her a damage unseen to the world…
invisible scars rendered by tooth and claw, and borne proudly by a beautiful
Mitaire in seemingly perfect condition.
Mitaire’s (meaning I have met
their match in Urhobo) was a happy child. Her late parents were deeply in love.
Her mother was an exotic beauty, while her father was a self-made billionaire
who treasured and furnished Mima (Mitaire’s mother) like a treasured queen.
Their love lasted many years against many odds while their union produced
Mitaire. Their love would have been something to celebrate if her mother wasn’t
the long-time mistress of a powerful man thirty years older than her.
And so understandably, her
father’s wife and sons despised Mitaire and her mother. The luxurious lifestyle
her father kept providing for his mistress and love-child through the years was
a bitter insult to the billionaire’s older wife. Yes, the wife hated them, but
couldn’t touch them, as her father protected Mima and his last daughter; from
her jealousy and wrath.
But the day her father died of a
sudden heart-attack was the day Mitaire’s mother fell from all grace, very
swiftly. Disgraced and publicly humiliated, she was kicked out of the house her
lover had bought for her by his wife and sons. Crying and confused, a young
Mitaire looked into the eyes of her father’s wife as she, escorted by armed
bodyguards and two of her sons had dragged a semi-clad Mima from her home. Mitaire
looked into the eyes of a woman she had never met, and she saw evil.
And then it got worse. Over the
next two years she understood the power of saving for rainy days. Mima, as many
spoilt, over-indulged mistresses did not actually have anything to her name,
nor did she know how to manage her own life as she never had to in the past.
And so she tried to survive as best she could… by borrowing, owing, weeping and
drinking. In the end, she had died mysteriously of an retching illness in
Mitaire’s arms. Mitaire liked to think she died of a broken heart . She was
only sixteen.
Yes, Mitaire had faced many
evils.
Poverty, fear, violence, hunger,
abuse, rape, loneliness, jealousy, blackmail, discrimination, doubt, anger,
betrayal, lack, thirst, false witnesses and lust. And somehow, in spite of it
all and memories that best forgotten, Mitaire had managed to build for herself
a life. A life as a good person. Some people use their negative experiences to
become something good and others can’t rise above their past. Mitaire was one
of the former. She swore she would not repeat her mother’s mistakes. Never
would she submit herself to a committed man. At least that version of history
would not repeat itself.
But fate was the king of
mischief.
22 years after her mother fell
from grace, 11 years into her marriage, 8 painful miscarriages and one
beautiful daughter after… it had come to this. Her dearly beloved,
formerly-loving now adulterous husband who was once uncommitted had become the
type of man she spent her life running away from. History was repeating itself
in a fascinating way, she had to grudgingly admit. She had become her father’s
wife.
It was only at that moment that
she understood the evil she had seen in the eyes of her father’s wife. She
staggered as the sudden realization hit her and squeezed her eyes shut.
Mitaire, this dream is real. Now
look in the mirror and bless yourself. What else can you do?
“I can live my life for ME. I am
not my mother’s shame… I am not my father’s indiscretion… I am not my husband’s
rejected. Yesterday I was beloved, today I am unwanted- through it all, I am
still worthy. I am deserving… of dignity, respect, of honour. I might be old,
but my spirit is still unbroken. I will triumph over this evil.”
Mitaire muttered those words to
herself and felt a sliver of courage. She would not be the bitter woman her
father’s wife was – waiting for her husband to die to exact bitter revenge
against an innocent child and his deserving mother.
Tomorrow she would leave – take
her daughter and flee. She would re-create herself anew. But that is for
tomorrow… Today, she is exhausted.
Therefore let us stop passing
judgment on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling
block or obstacle in your brother’s way.
Source: BN
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