The Sword called Divorce

                “Sweetheart, you know we love you, right?”

                Marie cocked her head and peered from one parent to the other. Something was up. She sensed it.

   Daddy didn’t usually call a family meeting to say how much he loved them. This was different and serious, especially as she looked at Mummy’s face and saw her trying hard not to frown.

                “We know! We know!” sang Bella, her ever-happy-adorable-yet-pain-in-the-butt younger sister.

                “Good. That’s my girl.” Daddy pulled her into his laps, a small smile playing on his lips.

“What’s happening daddy?” Thirteen year old Marie asked, curious.

                Her daddy averted his eyes and glanced at Mummy who sat beside him with her head bowed. Marie could read the look in his eyes…it was a silent plea.

                There was no forthcoming response from Mrs Babalola. She remained still, almost oblivious to her surroundings.

                Daddy sighed and cleared his throat. “Your mum and I will always do what’s best for you, you know that girls, don’t you?”

                Now she was sure of it. There was a big news coming. This was definitely not normal. The suspense was killing her. And why was Mummy sitting like she’d just lost someone?

                Oh no! Had anyone died? Was it her mum’s favourite brother? Was that why Mummy seemed so sad?

                “Surprise, daddy?Surprise?” Bella clapped her hands gleefully. “Tell! Tell!”

                This time Mummy looked up and that was when Marie saw the tell-tale signs of tears in her eyes. What! Mummy was crying? Then someone had really died.

                “Just tell them Joe.” Mummy said softly.

                “I can’t.” Daddy’s voice sounded strange. Like he was choking.

                “Tell us what, Mummy? Did anyone die?” Marie asked, looking frantic now.

               

********************************************************

Nike Babalola couldn’t bear to look at her children. Especially Marie…her question had sent a spear right through her heart.

                “Mummy, did anyone die?”

Yes sweetie. She wanted to say. Our marriage. Your father just killed our marriage.

                But she didn’t speak, couldn’t. She was afraid that she’d burst into tears if she dared say a word.

                “No one died, Marie. It’s just...” Her husband paused again.

Say it already! She wanted to scream. Tell them how you went and slept with someone else. Tell them how you broke our marriage vows. Tell them how you tore this family apart with your singular selfish act!

                “Your mummy and I…” Another pause. “We…we are getting a divorce and we need you to be strong.”

                Finally!

****************************************************

Marie was sure she’d heard wrong. This was a joke. A big joke.

She’d wait for the punch line. The right time to laugh was coming. Definitely.

                Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. No punchline. No laughter. Just silence.

                Even Bella was silent.

                No, no, no!

                “This is a joke, right daddy? Mummy?” Marie eventually spoke.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but no.It’s true.” Daddy said, still holding Bella.

                “Why?” It was the only thing she could think of to say. She was already boiling inside.

                “We…we’ve had some problems. Adult stuff. Married people problems.”

                “That you can’t fix?” She blurted.

******************************************************

Joe Babalola looked away from his daughter who suddenly seemed so much older. He could see the challenge in her eyes. His hot-blooded daughter.A true daughter of her mother.

                “Tell me daddy! Mummy, is it a problem you can’t fix?” Marie asked again, her voice going up a notch.

                Answer her Nike. Joe willed her silently. Tell her why we can’t fix this. Tell her why you can’tforgive me for my stupid mistake. Tell her why we have to break our family  apart because of my mistakes…because of your unforgiveness.

                Tell her, because I can’t. I can’t look my lovely daughters in the face anymore and tell them I’m leaving them. It will kill me.

                Please Nike. Forgive me for their sakes.

                His eyes searched her face for any sign that she was feeling the same pain he was.

                “I can’t believe this! You both are the most wicked parents ever! You didn’t even try to fix it for our sakes! Look at Bella! Have you suddenly stopped loving us?” Tears were pouring down her eyes now. “I hate you both! I wish I’d never been born into this stupid family! Get your divorce…I don’t care!”

                With that she ran out of the living room.

*****************************************************

               

She couldn’t seem to stop crying. Her chest kept constricting when she tried to choke back the tears.

                This was a dream. It couldn’t be happening. She was going to wake up and realise what a bad dream it was. Yes.

                Even as she thought it, Marie knew it was real. Every bit of it. Her family had fallen apart. She was going to be one of those kids with divorced parents. Kids who moved up and down from one parent’s house to the other.

                Her life as she knew it was over. She would never have a happy home to come to, no sitting on her daddy’s laps or hanging out with mummy in the kitchen. No family outings or family dinners.

                It was all gone. With that sword called Divorce.

                Why did it even exist? Why give people a choice to walk out of their marriage if they were not comfortable with it? Why couldn’t they fight for their love? Why!

                She knew she’d said a lot of hateful things to her parents…maybe they deserved it. How were she and Bella going to cope with this new development?

                She didn’t want to think about it. At least not now.

                She lay on her bed and closed her eyes as the tears poured out.

                What would a divorce do to her?

THOU SHALL NOT - THE PASTOR'S KID

                Hey guys, my name is Melody and I’m a Pastor’s kid.

This piece is to all the Pastors’ kids’ out there. Those who’ve been bound by bizarre unspoken rules all their life.

                “And they’re pastor’s children.”

                How many times did I hear this phrase while growing up?

You sneeze awkwardly and everyone looks in your direction saying to themselves with a smirk on their face: “And she’s a Pastor’s child…Humph!”

                And I’m like what? So I can’t sneeze again?

The same people would do worse things and justify themselves sweetly.

                As I grew up, I got to discover some of the crazy things expected from Pastors’ kids…(feel free to add yours.)

- Thou shall not come late to church for any reason (even if you have the perfect excuse of say, traffic, rain etc.)

-Thou shall not look good. You know Pastor’s kids are actually expected to be the poorest looking in church? Dress good and you’ve started backsliding. Ha!

-Thou shall not, for any reason be caught talking to the opposite sex.

-Thou shall be perfect in morals.

-Thou shall not make mistakes of any kind (at least in public.)

-Thou shall be in every church department possible.

-Thou shall not miss any church service for any reason…even if you’re sick.

-Thou shall always be sober.

So, these are a few I can remember. Preposterous right? Indeed! Come on! Aren’t Pastors’ kids human too? Don’t they deserve to have a life without this label? Personally, I wish there was some price that came with being a Pastor’s kid…you know; a large mouth-watering sum of money that will make us live the stereotyped lives you want.

                 So much is expected from Pastors’  kids while so little is given. There’s more to us than just that. We are actual people who more often than not, love the same things you love. Why can’t you let us live our lives for ourselves? Why do we always have to look over our shoulders expecting a reprimand?

                Guess what? You cry, we cry. You laugh, we laugh. You fall in love, we do the same too. You make mistakes and so do we. You aren’t perfect…yet…and neither are we.

                Most times these bizarre rules are what makes Pastors’ kids turn out to be hell raisers and rebellious. They’ve lived their life according to the dictates of others; what the church would like and what not. What would the members say if they see you doing this or that?

                Why do you keep looking out for our weaknesses? Our failings?

“Did you see how Pastor’s daughter was dancing today in church? Hian! She was just shaking everything! I wonder oo! These Pastor’s children of nowadays. Only God knows where she learned that one from!”

“Did you see Pastor’s first son talking to Bro. Ola’s daughter? In church! And he’s a Pastor’s child!”

“Yesterday I saw Pastor’s daughter close to that club. I don’t even know what a Pastor’s child was doing in that area sef. Oh!”

“After church today Pastor’s son just left church without greeting anybody. That boy is a case ooh! I’m sure Pastor is tired of him sef. Only God will help us in training all these children.”

                These and many more are the conversations that ensue among church members. C’mon guys! Get a life!

                Live your life and stop looking out for the failings of the Pastors’ kids. For crying out loud, they’re human beings too! And they like to look good! And yes, they intend to get married someday so pardon them if they’re talking to the opposite sex in church…what do you expect? That they do it elsewhere?

                And sometimes the talk isn’t necessarily what you think…sometimes it’s just innocent talk. Just two friends having a friendly chat Abi, we aren’t allowed to have friends again?

                Don’t set us on a pedestal we are not.

                 Here’s what these rules do…they keep us in check. We learn to live a near perfect life…in public. (Is that good?) Because no one knows what we do behind closed doors.

                My simple advice to all Pastor’s kids out there…don’t live your life for any human.

Live for God. Because God is everywhere…in those public places, and in the secret too. He’s watching and he knows you better than these people ever will.

                He cares for you more than they ever will and the good news is, he isn’t looking for your weaknesses…he’s building on those strengths. He sees you for who you are and not what you’re labelled with.

                And I think that’s way better.

                There really isn’t any difference between Pastor’s kids and other kids…except, well…their parents are Pastors.

                So, let me re-introduce myself: Hi; my name is Melody and I’m human. Like you.

Miracle Adebayo's blog: MAN IN THE MIRROR

Miracle Adebayo's blog: MAN IN THE MIRROR: (Hello. My name is Henrietta from MASCOT NETWORK and I will be interviewing DR. Christine Ajayi. She is a renowned psychologist, well k...

MAN IN THE MIRROR

(Hello. My name is Henrietta from MASCOT NETWORK and I will be interviewing DR. Christine Ajayi. She is a renowned psychologist, well known for her unconventional methods in curing mentally disabled people. Well, we will be needing her expertise in our country today and we’ve decided to ask her over for a short talk, to pick her brains.)

Henrietta:  Hello, Doctor. It’s a pleasure speaking with you today.

DR. C. Ajayi: Thank you darling. It’s my pleasure to be here too.

Henrietta: So, tell us a little bit of yourself.

DR. C. Ajayi: You just said the only thing about me that really matters. There isn’t much to tell.

Henrietta: Well, you’re quite the modest person. I’m pretty sure there’s a lot to you than meets the eye. We know you’re extremely smart and is responsible for the improvement of the mental health of over a hundred patients. That’s quite the achievement.

DR. C. Ajayi: (laughs) Yes it is. It’s been a…well…exhilarating experience. Working with mental patients is a big challenge.

Henrietta: So, tell me what brings you to Nigeria.

DR. C. Ajayi: Well, I’m a Nigerian looking for a cure. This is my country, even though I’ve been away for a while. I’ve been told that there’s a certain ailment that has eaten up this country and my help is needed in purging the country of it.

Henrietta: An ailment? Interesting. So, you have sick people in Nigeria you’re here to help?

DR. C. Ajayi: (exhales) Well, technically...yes. But Nigeria itself is sick.

Henrietta:  I’m a Nigerian and I find that statement, well…a bit disturbing.

DR. C. Ajayi: I’m sorry but it’s the truth. I’ve been here all of six weeks and I’m very certain that this country and its residents are sick.

Henrietta: Including our President?

DR. C. Ajayi: And his cabinet. All sick.

Henrietta: (frowns) You do know what you’re saying Doctor? We have some people in this country that might not take lightly that statement.

DR. C. Ajayi: (scoffs) Lemme guess, the infamous Boko Haram?

Henrietta: You know about Boko Haram?

DR. C. Ajayi: Who doesn’t? They are people birthed by our country, by our leaders.

Henrietta: Please elaborate.

DR. C. Ajayi: This country is a very beautiful one, I must admit. With a set of misguided leaders.

                   The ailment that worries Nigeria is none other than that of corruption.  Corruption is birthed out of selfishness and greed. Everyone wants everything for himself and his family. No one cares about the next person who might need that thing more.

                You see; if our leaders thought first about the people they’re leading…there wouldn’t be much problem in your country. But they’re too busy stuffing themselves with the national cake that they forget that there are people they swore to protect.

                Before it used to be the elites exploiting the masses but now the cancer has spread…the masses exploit each other!

                Every day you walk on the streets and see one injustice or the other being done because one party happens to be better off than the other. Doesn’t it bother you that your justice system is way off balance?

   Court proceedings take years to come to an end. The long procedure doesn’t mean justice in the end. No. It just means more money spent.

                Even the little child on the street knows what a bribe is. Why? Because he watches his daddy slip the cop on the road a fifty naira note to get a pass. Why would you exploit the people you’re supposed to protect? The question is why not? While the members of the House of Assembly in Nigeria earn more than Barack Obama…the police man on the street, who swore to protect the people is earning peanuts.

   Tell me, why wouldn’t he depend on those fifty naira notes? Isn’t there something wrong with the system? With the country?

                Let’s talk about the educational system…I heard the university lecturers are on strike. Students are at home. Tell me why crime rate will not increase?

                The government is doing nothing about it. Instead they spend days sitting in a locked room with the lecturers arguing ceaselessly about money they have but have refused to release. How selfish can you get?

                They’re playing a cat and mouse game with the students’ lives. They can’t graduate and they can’t work…so they’re left with crime or idleness.  What are we not saying?

                Or do I talk about the increasing unemployment rate? One word- nepotism. The so-called  big men are too busy giving their unqualified relatives jobs while other qualified people are left to hang.

    Nigeria is not about who you are and what you know…it’s now about who you know and what you are. It’s a dysfunctional system through and through. It’s disgusting!

        Another election year will soon arrive and the candidates will soon start kissing the ass of the masses just so they can get elected.

                It’s a cycle that continues year after year. What happened to love for our country? Patriotism?

Henrietta: (exhales) That was quite the speech doctor. I had no idea you had it in you. And I will not deny that you’re right…but we’ve heard so much about the problems, what are the solutions? How do we cure our country?

DR. C. Ajayi: One way. Start with the man in the mirror.

Henrietta: Tell me more.

DR. C. Ajayi: The change starts with you and I. Just like the problem began with one person, the solution begins with one person who decides to make a choice not to go with the crowd. One person who stands up for what is right, no matter what happens.

                If the masses will stick together without antagonising each other…then there’s still hope for this country. If we stop being selfish and put other’s feelings first…then there’s still hope.

 If we decide not to support corruption, then there’s hope. Start somewhere. Your family, at work…stand for the right thing.

Henrietta: Wow. That easy?

DR. C. Ajayi: It’s not that difficult. It’s gonna take a lot of discipline to stand for the right thing. And it starts with the small things.

 That security man you slip five hundred naira to get you into the company, that lecturer you give money to sort your admission, those little lies you tell on your CV to get a job…that’s where the change begins.

Henrietta: Pardon me ma’am but that won’t work in Nigeria. These things happen. They’re part of life. You’ll just end up on the side lines if you choose not to do these things.

DR. C. Ajayi: (smiles sadly.) And that’s the mentality that is killing us.

Henrietta: This was a very informative interview Doctor. We appreciate your insight and views.

DR. C. Ajayi: Don’t say all that crap…I know this is just another sermon which would enter the ears of Nigerians and exit through the other ear. Everyone complains about the problem but nobody is ready to change.

     Henrietta is your name? Take a step. Start with yourself. Start doing things right…and maybe there’s still hope for this country. The problem isn’t just your leaders…the problem is you.

I better take my leave now before I’m kicked off the set. It was nice talking with you. I hope I made a difference in your life today.

Henrietta: (smiles) Believe it or not Doc, you did. Thank you.

EVERY TWO A.M.

                It happens every two a.m.

He knew that because once he’d tried to avoid it and had stayed up all night watching, waiting, avoiding the inevitable which he knew was to come.

     He hadn’t succeeded. He’d dozed off by one a.m. The hotness had come minutes later.

He could tell because he’d felt it. Somewhere in his subconscious he’d known when it had happened.

       And so it did. Every night. For twenty-six years he’d kept his awful secret. He told no one. How could he? It was too shameful to repeat to anyone.

               

                However, he’d gotten a certain courage two days ago. A courage that was birthed from the incidental meeting earlier that afternoon.

      It was her. She triggered the sudden change…the sudden impulse to solve his problem.

He hadn’t met a girl he was so taken by in all his twenty six years. At least no girl intrigued him enough to make him break his code of silence and reveal his secret…to make him ask another for help.

         As he made his way to the church auditorium, he felt the sweat trickling down his armpits. He was nervous. What would this man of God say? Would he laugh at his predicament first of all?

                The thought of anyone laughing at him almost made Biodun change his mind. He couldn’t take such humiliation. He wouldn’t take that from anybody.

       It wasn’t his fault he was this way. He’d taken all measures to stop it…this terrible two a.m. habit.

    No such luck.

“Welcome to God’s house brother.” A voice greeted

   He looked around. A man was standing in the shadows.

    “I’m Pastor Nnaji. You’ve come to the right place. God can solve any problem.”

 Not mine. Biodun wanted to say.

  Instead he grunted in reply.

 “Tell me your problem and I will pray for you.”

   Biodun told him without pausing.

      “Hmmmmmm. This is serious.” Pastor Nnaji shifted on his heel. “But don’t worry; nothing is too hard for God.”

   “So you can help me?” Biodun felt a flicker of hope.

    “God can help you. Come let me pray foryou. Kneel down there.”

                Andso the prayers started. Rigorous, energy-exerting prayers. Biodun kept nodding and saying Amen.

 At long last the prayer session was over and the pastor looked hard at him:

     “It’s your grandmother.” He said.

     No Pastor. It’s my bladder. He wanted to retort.

“She doesn’t want you to shine. She’s using it to tie you down. My brother...this is a serious condition.” The Pastor explained.

  “Yes sir.I know.”

       “God will heal you.” He clapped dramatically. “When last did you visit your village?”

    “Er…two months ago sir.”

       “Did you drink any water there?”

       No, I drank urine. Biodun wanted to say.

       “Yes sir.” He replied.

          “That is it.  Strange waters. Your grandmother in the village did something to you…but don’t worry. God is able. Come back again in three days…I will consult the Lord on your behalf. We have to consecrate you.”

      “Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

        “And come with an offering. The Lord has need of it.” He added slyly.

    Biodun nodded and walked out, dusting his feet and smiling to himself.

                He’d just been lied to. His visit to the village two months ago had been for his grandmother’s burial. How could a dead woman inflict a condition on him that has existed since he was a child?

           It was a mistake to come here. He knew.

    He wouldn’t make such a mistake again. He would live with his woes and pray that someday God might have mercy on him and he would wake up in the morning without having wetted his  bed at night.

                 Maybe God will miraculously take away his night visitor. Maybe he would sleep one day with an uneventful two a.m.

       Maybe…just maybe, he would meet the girl of his dreams at whose presence he would cease bed wetting.

                He could only hope.