₦airaland Forum

I’m Tunde’s new toilet. He comes home every afternoon and pisses in me. Then, he drinks a bottle of beer and goes back to work.
He’s done it three days in a row now. I try to fight him but I end up with bruises. Back home, I would get down on my knees and pray to God for delivery when I have a problem. But, I’ve temporarily lost faith in God.
How could God put me in this position? I have worshipped him all my life. I always put my faith in him. You would think that with the tithe I pay in church, God would have somehow given me a hint before I jumped on the plane in Lagos.
Yesterday night, my body rose to defend me. My period came. Five days early. I was tempted to thank God. But, that would mean we’re friends again. I’m not letting God get off that easily. There is still a lot more he has to do to get me out of this mess.
Tunde can’t stand the sight of a naked woman on her period. Back in Lagos, he used to squirm away anytime he finds out I’m on my period. I used to laugh at him for that. But now I’m thankful for it. I know he’s going to stay away from me for the next few days.
The guest bedroom is my prison. I don’t know anybody in America. I have no phone. I have no friends and I have no family. The only luck I have is that I didn’t give Tunde all the money I brought from Nigeria when we were in Atlantic City. I split it into two and gave him five thousand dollars.
I would have given him all the money. It’s what a girl in love does. You trust your husband. What is the point of holding back when you are going to spend the rest of your lives together? But, I split the money into two because I was worried he may be tempted to gamble a chunk of it. My plan was to give the rest to him once we got to Baltimore. Then he dropped the Sandra bomb on me.
I’m scared of Tunde. I never thought I would feel like that. But, I am. I’ll give him anything to leave me alone. I’ll give anyone half of my money if they can rescue me from my personal hell. I know it’s a matter of time before Tunde discovers the stash of money, my only ticket to salvation.
This afternoon, I finally got tired of being ashamed of myself. I got tired of my little prison. I got tired of hearing the voices of Tunde, Sandra and the television. I wanted to hear a friendly voice. I looked around the house, found some of Tunde’s phone cards, picked up the phone and called my sister in Lagos.
“Hey, Yankee woman, na wah O. Na so life be? You have forgotten about us,” she complained.
“Abeg no vex. Ground no level O,” I replied in pidgin English.
Which yeye ground? Anyway, how is America?” she asked.
“Cold,” I replied.
“I’ll take that cold over the heat and nonsense here any day. Do you know they have not brought electricity back since you left?” she hissed on the phone. “So, how is Uncle Tunde?”
In my part of Nigeria, we don’t call our older in-laws their names. It’s disrespectful. They’re either Uncle or Aunty.
I tried to lie. But, I couldn’t. I blurted it all out. It was like therapy. My sister and I cried as I talked.
“You can’t stay there. You have to get you out of there,” my sister said when I was finished with my tale of woe.
“I don’t know what to do. How can I come back home and face Daddy after everything?” I wailed.
“Why are you going to face Daddy? What are you coming back home to? You resigned your job, remember?” she said.
“But, I don’t know anybody in America,” I cried.
“What do you mean you don’t know anybody? Some families in our area and in church have someone in America. Let me make some calls,” she says.
“Okay,” I replied tamely.
“Get a knife. If he tries any smesme with you again, stab him. That will give him something to explain to his oyinbo wife,” my sister counseled.
I wish I had Isi’s strength. My sister was always the tough one. When we were younger, she used to beat up the boys on the street. My father used to tell everyone he wished she was a boy. When he was mad at my only brother, my father will tell everyone that had Isi been a boy, she would have been the perfect heir. He kept saying it and hurting my brother’s feelings until one day Isi reminded him there was nothing to inherit. After that, my father kept his wishes to himself.
I’m the exact opposite of Isi. I was the obedient child. I did everything my parents asked of me. The first time I said “no” to my father was over marrying the old chief. Now, see where that got me.
Tunde pulled up outside the house a few minutes after I hung up the phone. I was shocked. I was so sure he would not bother me since I was on my period. I made sure he knew by loudly asking Sandra for the nearest store where I could buy tampons this morning. That made Sandra feel guilty because she was convinced I was pregnant. She went to the store and got me some tampons before she left for work.
I ran to the guest room, wondering if America has changed Tunde enough to rape a woman on her period. In my haste, I forgot to take my sister’s advice. I forgot to get a knife to defend myself.
The door opens. Tunde comes in with a plastic bag. He sits beside me on the bed with that look that once endeared him to me. But, now all he needed to be the devil was a pair of horns.
“Why are we fighting?” he asks.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to talk to him.
“One day, you will thank me for this. I am doing this for us. You think I like that bitch? I work like a dog so she, her daughters and grandchild can have this good life. Next month, I will rent an apartment for you. But, you have to change your attitude. In a few months, I’ll get the green card and we can live normally".