womenoutlook.com/my-story-ogochukwu-onuchukwu-a-woman-shares-her-story-from-the-grave/

A woman shares her story from the grave

PIC: Late Ogochukwu Onuchukwu (Nee Onugu). 23/10/1976 – 27/2/2012

I don’t know how to introduce what you are about to read…it’s very
chilling, quite disturbing, and extremely heart wrenching. If this
doesn’t make you cry, nothing else will. A dead woman,
Ogochukwu Onuchukwu (she died last month) shares her story and
writes a letter to her husband from the grave. I culled the letter
from her WEBSITE and wanted to share it because it’s something we all need to read and hopefully someone will learn from it. Read
it below… My mum is crying. I can see her from here. She has aged since the
last time I saw her. Why does she look so old and why is she so
thin? Can someone console her? Can someone make her stop
crying? I try to get up but I can’t. I try to reach for her, but I’m
stuck where I am. It is very dark in here, and very cold, so very
cold. What am I doing here? Where is everybody? Where are my children? I begin to panic, to struggle; I want to get out of this dark
room. I can hear Uzo calling. She’s calling my name. Then, I see mum
again. And I hear Uzo again. I don’t see my children. Where are my
children? I can’t see beyond the walls of this dark and cold room.
This just messed with my head…I hope you fair better. Continue
reading…

Uzo calls again. She sounds desperate to rouse me from my sleep. I am struggling
to wake but I can’t. I open my eyes and they shut of their own
accord. I am powerless to keep them from shutting. And I find as
soon as I stop struggling, my sleep becomes sweet repose.
Suddenly I don’t want to wake from it just yet. It is peaceful. I see mum again, and I see Uzo. Uzo keeps calling. She won’t stop
calling. She is crying too, just like mum. Can someone bring Kamsi and Amanda to me? Can someone bring
my babies to me? I need to hug them, Kamsi, especially. Is he
crying too and calling out for me? Does he understand that I am
gone? Kamsi will miss me. He is a special child, you know; Kamsiyochukwu – my son and my
first child. I prayed and longed for his birth. He was the blessing from above
that would seal Kevin’s love for me and give me some footing in his
home and some acceptance from his family. Before Kamsi, I was a nobody in Kevin’s home. I was born the last
of nine children, the baby of the family. I was used to love and
affection. I was everyone’s baby. I grew up knowing that everyone
had my back, I grew up knowing the safety and security of being
the baby of the home. You may then understand my shock when I
stepped out of my home and into new territory with the man of my dreams only to find that I was really not as special as I had been
made to believe. I look back to that day when Kevin took me home
to introduce me to my new family. The cold and rude shock of the
welcome his brother’s wife gave me set off an alarm in my head. These people didn’t think I was special. In fact, her first words
were, ”Kevin, ebe kwa ka isi dute nka?” (Kevin, “Where on earth
did you bring this one from?) That would be the first time I would
be addressed as “this one” and from then on, I grappled with the
realization that I was not welcome in my new home. I remember my first Christmas at Ihiala as a new bride. My brother-
in-law’s wife would sneer and clap and refer to me as “Ndi ji ukwu
azo akwu” (the people who process palm fruits with their bare feet)
. I knew she meant my impoverished home town of Nsukka. She
would sing to me all day long telling me the only reason why their
brother married me was because of my beauty and complexion. Now, I lie here and I wonder if I was in my right mind to ignore the
several other alarms over my 12- year union with Kevin. I had to ignore them, I told myself. I had already taken my vows to
be with Kevin until death did us part. They never really wanted me, I can now see. But I was too blinded
by love to realize that. I needed to do something to cement Kevin’s
heart with mine. I needed to remain Kevin’s wife and to prove to
the world that indeed Love would conquer all. When after one year of marriage there were still no children, the
painful journey that sent me to my grave started. I went from
specialist to specialist, ingested every kind of pill that promised to
boost my fertility. As my desperation grew, so did pressure from
Kevin’s family. My horror-movie life story started playing out; the
horror-movie life that has sent me to an early and cold grave from where I write this letter to my husband.

My sweet Kevin, We started to fight over little things. The fights were worse after
you visited home or attended any of your numerous family
meetings. You came home one evening and asked me to move out
of the bedroom we both shared and into the guestroom downstairs.
The next time you returned from the meeting, you tied me up with
a rope and used your belt on me. No one heard my screams. I remember when you told me that your family had asked you to
remarry. You showed me documents of all your numerous landed
property including the house we lived in. Your brother was listed as
next of kin. When I asked you about it, your answer rocked the
ground I was standing on. You said, “What have you to show that
entitles you to any stake in this household?” You were referring to my barreness. It is funny how to my family and friends, I was the beautiful and
loving Ogo, whilst to you and your family I was a worthless piece of
rag. You called me barren. I could have fled but your love and
acceptance was of more worth to me than the love and admiration
of the world outside our home. I desperately sought to be loved by
you, Kevin. In your family’s presence I felt unworthy, unloved and unwanted.
Yet, I stayed on. I would make you love me one way or the other
and I knew that one sure way would
be to produce a child, an heir for you. That was the most important
thing to you. I began the numerous procedures, painful procedures, including
surgery. I gave myself daily shots. At some point the needles could
no longer pierce my skin. My skin had toughened to the piercing
pain of needles. After seven years of marriage, our prayers were answered. God
blessed us with our son Kamsiyochukwu, which means ‘’Just as I
asked of the Lord’’. God had intervened and miracles were about to
start happening because for the first time in seven years, my
mother-in-law called me. Finally I was home. I had been accepted.
I was now a woman, a wife and a mother. Finally there was peace. Kamsi will be four in November. The miracles stayed with me because 18 months later through
another procedure, Chimamanda was born. Her birth was bitter
sweet for me. Sweet because you Kevin, my husband, and my in-
laws would love me more for bearing a second child, but bitter
because this particular birth almost cost me my life. The doctors
had become very concerned. You see, I had developed too many complications from all the different procedures I had undergone in
the journey to have children and these were beginning to get in the
way of normal everyday living. I developed conditions that had
almost become life threatening. So the doctors sent me off with my
new bundle of joy and with a stern warning not to try for another
child as I may not be so lucky. I chuckled, almost gleefully. Why would I want to try for a third
child? God had given me a boy and a girl, what more could I ask
for. I was only ever so thankful to God.
Kevin, you and I gave numerous and very generous donations to
different churches in thanksgiving to God. All was well. I was happy
and fulfilled. Kevin, you loved me again. Your family accepted me. Life was good. And all was quiet again. …………………… For a while.

Then fate struck me a blow. As if to remind me that my stay in your
house was temporary and was never really going to be peaceful,
Kamsi – our son, our first fruit, my pride and joy and the child that
gave me a place in my husband’s home, began to show signs of
slowed development; the visits to the doctors resumed, this time on
account of Kamsi. We started seeing therapists. After we’d been from one doctor to
another I decided I had to resort to prayer. I was frightened. I was
terrified. I was threatened. I started to feel unwell. I had difficulty
breathing. I needed to see my doctors, Kamsi too. He wasn’t doing
too well either. He had difficulty with his speech. He was slow to
comprehend things. I did not know for sure what was wrong with him but I knew all was not well. Not with him and not with me. We
were denied visas to the USA because we had overstayed on our
last trip on account of Kamsi’s treatments. So whilst we waited for a
lawyer to help us clear up the immigration issues with America, I
applied for a UK visa and sought help in London. But by then,
trouble had reared its head at home, again. Kevin, you had again become very impatient with me. My fears
were fully alive again. The battles it seemed I had won were again
in full rage. My husband, in your irritable impatience and anger, you
told me to my face that our son, my Kamsi, was worthless to you.
You said he was abnormal. You said that our daughter, my Amanda,
was a girl and that you had no need for a girl child because she would someday be married off. I remember, in pain, that you didn’t
attend Amanda’s christening because you were upset with me. You
told me your mother was more important to you than “THESE
THINGS” I brought to your house. You were referring to our
children, were you not? “THESE THINGS”. My heart bled. I wept bitterly. Then I quickly calmed my fears by
telling myself that you were under a lot of stress at work and that
you were also probably reacting to all the money that you had spent
on my treatments. Surely, all that was getting to you? Even when
you threatened me with a knife, twice you did that, I still felt
unworthy of you and very deserving of your hatred. Even when you would say: “I will kill you and nothing will happen because you
have no one to fight for you”, I kept on struggling to get you to
love me because, Kevin, your validation was important to me You had refused to give me money for my medical trip to London. I
knew then it was because you had your hands full with caring and
catering for everybody who was dear to you. Your finances were
stretched. I thought then that in time you would come around. My health continued to get worse. Eventually, I made it to London.
After extensive consultations and tests, I was given a definitive
diagnosis. My condition was life threatening. It was from this time,
when it was clear that I required surgery to save me life that I came
face to face with a different kind of war from our home. Kevin, you stopped speaking with me. I was in pain, in anguish and
in tears. I didn’t understand what was happening. I had stayed
three weeks in London and Kevin, you never called, sent a text or
inquired how I was faring. You stopped taking my calls. Instead I
got a call from my cousin in whose care I had left my children. She
was frantic with worry because there was no food in the house for the children to eat; Kevin you had refused to provide food for our
children. Kevin, you had also refused to pay for Kamsi’s home
schooling. Then Kevin, I received that e-mail from you. The only
communication from you for the entire period I was in London.
Do you remember? It was an angry email. You berated me for
putting your integrity at stake at your work place. Apparently your
employers had called a hospital in London to inquire about me and
were told that no one by my name was ever their patient. I later found out that you had given the wrong hospital name to your
employers. Do you remember, Kevin? For the first time in my 12 year marriage, the alarm bells in my
head began to sound real. For the first time in 12 years, I felt real
anger stir up in my heart. Kevin, I was angry because you paid no
heed to the hospital where your wife was at in London. You had no
clue and cared little about what I was going through. Yet you would
berate me for putting your INTEGRITY at work at stake. Your integrity was your primary concern, not my health. Then it hit me! All these years I was trying to be all I could be for
you, Kevin, to make you happy, to please you, Kevin, ……… you
actually hated me. You didn’t want me in your life. The signs were
all there. Your family had showed me from day one that they didn’t
want me. I was the object of a hatred that I could not explain. I
couldn’t understand why. Then I saw the hand writing on the wall, all those many things that
went on. You even sold my car whilst I was still lying on a hospital
bed in London, with no word to me. I was not to learn of what you
had done until I returned to Nigeria. The doctors had allowed me to
return to prepare for surgery.

Kevin, do you remember that on my return I gave you a pair of
shoes I had bought for you? Kevin, my husband, do you remember
hurling those shoes at me? Kevin, do you remember me breaking
down in tears? Kevin, do you remember me asking you that night,
many times over, why you hated me so much, what I had done to
make you hate me as much as you did? “You are disturbing me, and if you continue, I`ll move out and
inform the company that I no longer live in the house. Then they
will come and drive you away”. Kevin, my husband, that was your
response to me. Did you know then I only had days to live? Is that
why you told me that would be the last time I would see you
physically? Did you know it would only be a few more hours? I still had a surgery to go through. Kevin, since you wanted no part
in it, I had contacted the medical officer in your company directly
for referrals. I left Eket for Lagos on Saturday. That same day I
consulted with the specialist surgeon and surgery was scheduled for
Monday morning. In those final hours, as I prepared for my surgery, I was alone, my
spirit was broken. I had lost all the fight in me. Kevin, I knew that
nothing I did or said would turn you heart toward me, and I had
nobody for whom you had any regards who would speak up for
me. In those final hours, Kevin, I called you. This was Sunday morning,
less than 24 hours to my death. Do you remember, Kevin? I called
you to share what the specialist surgeon had said. I was still
shaking from your screams on the phone when I got in here. You
did not want me to bother you, you screamed. I should go to my
brothers and sisters, you screamed. I should pay you back all the money you gave me for my treatment in London, you screamed.
Kevin, did you know that would be my last conversation with you?
My last conversation with you, my husband, my love, my life, ended
with you banging the phone on me. Recalling the abusive words, the spitting, the beating, the bruising,
the knifing, and the promise that I would not live long for daring to
forget to buy garden eggs for your mother, an insult you vowed I
would pay for with my life ……., I knew then it was over for me.
There was no rationalizing needed any longer. Even the blind could
see ………. You did not want me in your life.

I went in for surgery on Monday morning, February 27, 2012, and
after battling for several hours, I yielded my spirit. Kevin, my husband, I lived my promise to God. The promise I made
on the day I wedded you. For better ………………………… For worse
For richer …………………………. For poorer
In Sickness ………………………. And in health
To love ………………………….. And to cherish Till DEATH US DO PART! And it has. NOW I AM DEAD!!!!!!! Just as your mum predicted ….. Her cold words follow me to
morgue. She swore to me that I would leave her son’s house dead
or alive. I couldn’t leave whilst I still breathed. It had to be through
death, and death it has become. Kevin, you are FREE! And, so am I. Your freedom is temporary. Mine is eternal. Whilst you still have freedom, remember Kamsi and Chimamanda. Lovingly yours until death,
Ogo. I am gone. Gone forever. But if one woman, just one woman will
learn from my story, then maybe I would not have gone in vain. My heart weeps for my children, my mummy, my sisters and my
brothers, my extended family. These ones, I was a gift to. These
ones, they loved me. These ones, they wanted me. These ones,
they needed me. These ones, they wish I had spoken out earlier.
*** Written by someone who was part of her life and witnessed her
struggles. RIP Ogo My Story: Ogochukwu Onuchukwu - A woman shares her story from
the grave

Too long try and summarise some other time wen posting, or is it copy n paste

@lucy001,thats why i had cpoy and paste it in shorts para,personally i hate long write up like this but this is a must read for Girls and Guys.Just have patience to read on cos i cant summarize 100% wats on the passage.Thanks for your patience to read on.

Lucy001: Too long try and summarise some other time wen posting, or is it copy n paste

Try and read it
@topic, thats touching, infact am crying now, the husband is a beast

davechika: @lucy001,thats why i had cpoy and paste it in shorts para,personally i hate long write up like this but this is a must read for Girls and Guys.Just have patience to read on cos i cant summarize 100% wats on the passage.Thanks for your patience to read on.

Thanks I try and make up time to scan through

bless u!

Hardunnii:
Try and read it
@topic, thats touching, infact am crying now, the husband is a beast

Thanks I will....

At d last sentence,drops of tears poured freely.

I have never heard anything like this

some men are wicked. The man is just a boy. A man shall leave his father and mother and shall cling to his wife and two shall bcome one. The man is a boy. RIP Ugo

let the dead bury the dead.
long post.

Logic Mind: let the dead bury the dead.
long post.

logic mind,just have patience to read the post,i agree its long thats why i had to copy and paste them in para.
thanks for your understanding.

so touching cant help but cry, i hope other women out there undergoing such learns from dis before its 2 late, marriage is not a do-or-die affair.

Emotion running!!!

Could I obtain a copyright permission to cull this to my Panacea Newsletter, I think there are lessons to learn from it.

J-FACTOR:
Could I obtain a copyright permission to cull this to my Panacea Newsletter, I think there are lessons to learn from it.

i think this is the original site
www.ogorip.com/my-story.html

i didnt cry

i just googled the name Kevin Onuchukwu on the net,i got one match on facebook but all walls,info and photo were all blocked,no profile pixs.
guys am i doin anytin wrong by trying to search the above name,am i intruding on someones privacy?

Hmmmmm. Speechless!

davechika: i just googled the name Kevin Onuchukwu on the net,i got one match on facebook but all walls,info and photo were all blocked,no profile pixs.
guys am i doin anytin wrong by trying to search the above name,am i intruding on someones privacy?

Why are you searching for him?

cos this is not another fictional romance stories,this is real life.i dnt have any reason for searching just being curious to see what the Man Kevin look like.No hard feelings.

He is probaby one ugly looking thing.

But no matter what he looks like, he is just a wicked and horrible man. But seriousy this woman was pathetic in her love. What the heck, people don't die for pathetic losers in this age and time.


A very sad and tragic story. Is fatal you know. Hopefully other women will learn from it.

What's the meaning of this long story?
That you had to die before 'realisation' finally 'hit' you?
I would have asked you to 'wake up' but your sleep is eternal.
Just like the story of the rich man and lazarus. When the rich man asked to be given a little time to come back to earth and warn his relations about such a gruesome place, he was told there were enough prrachers on earth doing the same thing. That if they won't listen to his preachers, even a resurrection from the dead wouldn't!

Eh ya. She lived with all these in silence, she never told her family, they didnt even sense what she was going tru. I keep saying this, "Ladies, do not die in the name of love or marriage" I guess her husband is rejoicing now, his family is happy now, they should get ready to reap all that they've sewn even to their 10th generation, except someone cries for mercy.

bullshit
the story doesnt add up for me.you are the last child in the family of nine and for 12 years,the same you that they loved went through shyt,without any of them visiting or rendering a word .
RIP anyway, but if you happen to come by again ,dont remain in a relationship were you are not wanted in equal measure

This is really a sad and very touching story. May Ogo's soul rest in peace.

I googled the guyz name its there. He works in Eket as she said.

I pray no one i know meets some1 like this. God knows how to reward him.