I once lived with my aunt in Tapa Street, Ijesha after my Junior School Certificate Examinations in 2009. I did not grow up with the habit of always spending holidays with relatives because my parents would have none of that. But after my aunt chastised my father for 'caging' us, he had to let me travel for the first time ever.
.
Arriving Lagos came with mixed feelings. It was my first time leaving home and I was inundated with this great feeling of homesickness. My aunt tried her best to make me feel better. Ikenna, her son, who was just about the same age as myself tried even harder. He introduced me to his street friends. He took me out to soccer fields. He even engaged me in Ludo games with neighbors. But my reticence just did not quell. Then, as days metamorphosed into weeks, I felt more at home. I laughed more. I spoke more. And Ikenna became my best buddy. We ate together. Took our baths together and I also moved into his room.
.
Because I was very observant. I noticed this tension between my aunt and her husband. I saw it in their stares. In the way she called on her husband, her voice laden with what seemed like fear. In the way she carefully dropped his food on the dining table, the delicateness. In the way she stealthily entered and left their matrimonial room. I did not understand. But I continued to observe.
.
I think my aunt and her husband got tired of pretending. I think my presence never mattered as their voices woke up I and Ikenna one early morning. I remember I saw my aunt running out of her matrimonial room with her wrapper loosely wound around her chest. Her husband followed on cue, flinging his shoe at her as he ran after her. As though their house had suddenly turned into a track field and they were on a race. As a door connected with its jamb and a loud sound ricocheted, I shivered with a start. Before I ran out to catch the early morning drama, I remember I was first held down by Ikenna. We made eye contact. But his stare was as hard as gargoyle. But in that stare was something else. It was a mixture of shame and sadness and a certain knowing. It suddenly dawned on me. My aunt was in an abusive marriage!
.
So, my aunt was securely locked inside the room I vacated to join Ikenna in his, and my aunt's husband was banging on the door. He poured vituperations on my aunt. He called her unprintable names and vowed to deal with her if she didn't open the door by herself but let him break into it. In all these raucous, my aunt kept quiet and Ikenna never came out. My aunt's husband got tired of ranting and made for their bedroom. He saw me standing by the corridor. And even when I greeted him, he ignored me. He came out soon enough with a spare key. He locked the door my aunt was in, went into their bedroom. He came out later and then left for work.
.
That was my first experience of marital violence and that memory has never left me till date, because, honestly, I do have mental triggers whenever I relive that moment. Good a thing my aunt had the intuition of taking the key before entering the room. Some hours later, after confirming her husband had left, she unlocked herself and came out. Her eyes had the same features as that of her son. She avoided eye contact with me. Soon afterwards, my mother called. After talking with my aunt, she asked the phone be given to me. My aunt placed the phone on speaker mode before handing it over to me. My mother asked how I was fairing. Asked if I was feeding fine. Asked if I was enjoying my stay. Yes. Yes. Yes. I answered and she hung up after her entreaties.
.
My second experience of marital violence was in August, the month my holiday was to end in Lagos. On a cold Thursday night. After a dinner of spaghetti and boiled eggs. I was sitting with Ikenna and my aunt and her husband and our eyes were fixed on the television watching another episode of SuperStory when my aunt received a phone call. Hello. I'm fine dear. A dry laugh here. He's fine. Another dry laugh there. Ikenna is fine. Thank you very much. She hung up and resumed watching the soap opera. My aunt's husband asked who called. A friend, she answered. Can I see your phone? Silence. Can I see your phone? Silence.
.
It was when a slap connected with my aunt's cheeks and she released a scream that Ikenna and I sprang up, the yellow sofa falling behind us. My aunt's husband held my aunt down with his left hand. And forcefully wriggled the phone out of her hand with his right hand. Who called you? Who is this friend that has no name? Cheating idiot! These questions were accompanied with slaps. My aunt struggled to answer but her throat was still held by her husband's strong hands. Ikenna's intervention did nothing to help. My aid did nothing also as Ikenna and I found ourselves on the floor on impact of his father's shove. Ikenna's shouts rhymed with his mother's. My aunt succeeded in throwing her husband off her body and he landed on my legs with a heavy thud. As she made for the door she flinged her heavy footwear at her husband and it missed my head by an inch. I never saw my aunt till late evening and the air of silence between I and Ikenna was very dense.
.
After that harrowing experience. I resolved never to be mentally assaulted as I come from a very peaceful home. That evening my aunt returned. My mother called again. This time I was frank and straightforward. Much to the chagrin of my aunt and Ikenna's pleas for me not to go. I. Want. To. Come. Back. Home. Mummy.
.
Now, sitting under this tree with its wilted leaves surrounding me, reliving my 2009 experience, I am quick to diagnose the disease that ate away on my aunt's marriage which consequently led to a separation in 2012: LACK OF TRUST. I also make bold to say that any marriage or relationship that lacks trust is bound to fail. Trust is the fuel that keeps a marriage running. It is the oil that keeps the fire burning.
.
You see, my uncle's lack of trust towards his wife rubbed off on my aunt. If my aunt missed his call. If my aunt came home a minute later than her usual time from church. If my aunt spent more time in the salon or market, it automatically translated that my aunt was cheating on him and that was another reason for a big quarrel and fight. The same theory held true for my aunt. I think this also affected their sex life. Else, Ikenna should have siblings.
.
The other time, before we traveled for Christmas break, my roommate reiterated that he will never marry a girl who was still in the university.
"Why?" I asked. Knowing that promiscuity is not exclusive to university girls. It cuts across.
"You ask why? Do you not know that they are promiscuous?" He answered. (This assertion gave me a good laugh. A housewife can very much cheat with your next-door neighbor).
It was not the promiscuity of university girls (even married ones), but the trust issues on his own part that was fast becoming a disorder that bothered me. When I told him that he had trust issues. That word 'trust' had an emotional charge on him. And it dawned on me that his trust had somehow been betrayed. I understand that it is human nature never to trust when our trust had once been betrayed. But then, why will you marry someone you do not trust? Someone you cannot trust?
.
Remove the passwords from your phones. If there must be a password against third parties, share your password with your partner. If you have the knowledge that your phone can be checked anytime, I believe you'll be faithful. I like to tell people that my parents use the same phone, much to the agitation of relatives. If I want to speak to my father, and my mum picks, I ask that the phone be handed over to father. And vice versa. With such, no trust issues will emanate concerning mobile communication. But every marriage has its own formula. What works for A might not work for B. So, it's your onus to find out what works for you and keep to it.
.
Do not give your partner the chance to stop trusting you. I can never stop stressing this. I have this married female friend who'll tell me that she'll always fake compromising calls in her husband's presence just to make him jealous and keep him around her. I told her to stop such act. Why will you goad the waters of peace? What are you looking for? Don't worry, you'll soon see what you're looking for.
.
Because, I want to live a long and happy life. If I ever take a decision on this thing called marriage, I will never marry someone I do not trust. I want to be in a marriage where I can take my partner's word for it. Where I do not have to doubt whatever my partner says. Where trust is a mutual feeling. So this is me telling you, dispel distrust in your relationship. If you feel the threat of distrust, address such feeling immediately. Because the lack of trust is a prerequisite for a failed relationship.

Lalasticlala
Seun
Mynd44
Dominique

'Trust' that's the word that can keep marriage or love growing. But it should come from both parties, if one of the lover trust but discover that the partner who claim to trust had been lying all the this while. This kills relationship instantly, Its only God that can help human being.

Alusman:
I once lived with my aunt in Tapa Street, Ijesha after my Junior School Certificate Examinations in 2009. I did not grow up with the habit of always spending holidays with relatives because my parents would have none of that. But after my aunt chastised my father for 'caging' us, he had to let me travel for the first time ever.
.
Arriving Lagos came with mixed feelings. It was my first time leaving home and I was inundated with this great feeling of homesickness. My aunt tried her best to make me feel better. Ikenna, her son, who was just about the same age as myself tried even harder. He introduced me to his street friends. He took me out to soccer fields. He even engaged me in Ludo games with neighbors. But my reticence just did not quell. Then, as days metamorphosed into weeks, I felt more at home. I laughed more. I spoke more. And Ikenna became my best buddy. We ate together. Took our baths together and I also moved into his room.
.
Because I was very observant. I noticed this tension between my aunt and her husband. I saw it in their stares. In the way she called on her husband, her voice laden with what seemed like fear. In the way she carefully dropped his food on the dining table, the delicateness. In the way she stealthily entered and left their matrimonial room. I did not understand. But I continued to observe.
.
I think my aunt and her husband got tired of pretending. I think my presence never mattered as their voices woke up I and Ikenna one early morning. I remember I saw my aunt running out of her matrimonial room with her wrapper loosely wound around her chest. Her husband followed on cue, flinging his shoe at her as he ran after her. As though their house had suddenly turned into a track field and they were on a race. As a door connected with its jamb and a loud sound ricocheted, I shivered with a start. Before I ran out to catch the early morning drama, I remember I was first held down by Ikenna. We made eye contact. But his stare was as hard as gargoyle. But in that stare was something else. It was a mixture of shame and sadness and a certain knowing. It suddenly dawned on me. My aunt was in an abusive marriage!
.
So, my aunt was securely locked inside the room I vacated to join Ikenna in his, and my aunt's husband was banging on the door. He poured vituperations on my aunt. He called her unprintable names and vowed to deal with her if she didn't open the door by herself but let him break into it. In all these raucous, my aunt kept quiet and Ikenna never came out. My aunt's husband got tired of ranting and made for their bedroom. He saw me standing by the corridor. And even when I greeted him, he ignored me. He came out soon enough with a spare key. He locked the door my aunt was in, went into their bedroom. He came out later and then left for work.
.
That was my first experience of marital violence and that memory has never left me till date, because, honestly, I do have mental triggers whenever I relive that moment. Good a thing my aunt had the intuition of taking the key before entering the room. Some hours later, after confirming her husband had left, she unlocked herself and came out. Her eyes had the same features as that of her son. She avoided eye contact with me. Soon afterwards, my mother called. After talking with my aunt, she asked the phone be given to me. My aunt placed the phone on speaker mode before handing it over to me. My mother asked how I was fairing. Asked if I was feeding fine. Asked if I was enjoying my stay. Yes. Yes. Yes. I answered and she hung up after her entreaties.
.
My second experience of marital violence was in August, the month my holiday was to end in Lagos. On a cold Thursday night. After a dinner of spaghetti and boiled eggs. I was sitting with Ikenna and my aunt and her husband and our eyes were fixed on the television watching another episode of SuperStory when my aunt received a phone call. Hello. I'm fine dear. A dry laugh here. He's fine. Another dry laugh there. Ikenna is fine. Thank you very much. She hung up and resumed watching the soap opera. My aunt's husband asked who called. A friend, she answered. Can I see your phone? Silence. Can I see your phone? Silence.
.
It was when a slap connected with my aunt's cheeks and she released a scream that Ikenna and I sprang up, the yellow sofa falling behind us. My aunt's husband held my aunt down with his left hand. And forcefully wriggled the phone out of her hand with his right hand. Who called you? Who is this friend that has no name? Cheating idiot! These questions were accompanied with slaps. My aunt struggled to answer but her throat was still held by her husband's strong hands. Ikenna's intervention did nothing to help. My aid did nothing also as Ikenna and I found ourselves on the floor on impact of his father's shove. Ikenna's shouts rhymed with his mother's. My aunt succeeded in throwing her husband off her body and he landed on my legs with a heavy thud. As she made for the door she flinged her heavy footwear at her husband and it missed my head by an inch. I never saw my aunt till late evening and the air of silence between I and Ikenna was very dense.
.
After that harrowing experience. I resolved never to be mentally assaulted as I come from a very peaceful home. That evening my aunt returned. My mother called again. This time I was frank and straightforward. Much to the chagrin of my aunt and Ikenna's pleas for me not to go. I. Want. To. Come. Back. Home. Mummy.
.
Now, sitting under this tree with its wilted leaves surrounding me, reliving my 2009 experience, I am quick to diagnose the disease that ate away on my aunt's marriage which consequently led to a separation in 2012: LACK OF TRUST. I also make bold to say that any marriage or relationship that lacks trust is bound to fail. Trust is the fuel that keeps a marriage running. It is the oil that keeps the fire burning.
.
You see, my uncle's lack of trust towards his wife rubbed off on my aunt. If my aunt missed his call. If my aunt came home a minute later than her usual time from church. If my aunt spent more time in the salon or market, it automatically translated that my aunt was cheating on him and that was another reason for a big quarrel and fight. The same theory held true for my aunt. I think this also affected their sex life. Else, Ikenna should have siblings.
.
The other time, before we traveled for Christmas break, my roommate reiterated that he will never marry a girl who was still in the university.
"Why?" I asked. Knowing that promiscuity is not exclusive to university girls. It cuts across.
"You ask why? Do you not know that they are promiscuous?" He answered. (This assertion gave me a good laugh. A housewife can very much cheat with your next-door neighbor).
It was not the promiscuity of university girls (even married ones), but the trust issues on his own part that was fast becoming a disorder that bothered me. When I told him that he had trust issues. That word 'trust' had an emotional charge on him. And it dawned on me that his trust had somehow been betrayed. I understand that it is human nature never to trust when our trust had once been betrayed. But then, why will you marry someone you do not trust? Someone you cannot trust?
.
Remove the passwords from your phones. If there must be a password against third parties, share your password with your partner. If you have the knowledge that your phone can be checked anytime, I believe you'll be faithful. I like to tell people that my parents use the same phone, much to the agitation of relatives. If I want to speak to my father, and my mum picks, I ask that the phone be handed over to father. And vice versa. With such, no trust issues will emanate concerning mobile communication. But every marriage has its own formula. What works for A might not work for B. So, it's your onus to find out what works for you and keep to it.
.
Do not give your partner the chance to stop trusting you. I can never stop stressing this. I have this married female friend who'll tell me that she'll always fake compromising calls in her husband's presence just to make him jealous and keep him around her. I told her to stop such act. Why will you goad the waters of peace? What are you looking for? Don't worry, you'll soon see what you're looking for.
.
Because, I want to live a long and happy life. If I ever take a decision on this thing called marriage, I will never marry someone I do not trust. I want to be in a marriage where I can take my partner's word for it. Where I do not have to doubt whatever my partner says. Where trust is a mutual feeling. So this is me telling you, dispel distrust in your relationship. If you feel the threat of distrust, address such feeling immediately. Because the lack of trust is a prerequisite for a failed relationship.

Lalasticlala
Seun
Mynd44
Dominique

Hmmmmmm

You must have been a wise boy and your parents loving.

I very much agree with your submission.

You night want to edit the address though.