My name is Omalinze Okonkwo. I am a 33 year old Nigerian woman, who fled to the US to get away from a violently abusive husband/marriage. It had been hell, pretty much from day one of our 10 year marriage, with lots of hospitalizations and two separations in between. And it was ALL forms of abuse, from physical to emotional to psychological to mental to financial. This is the story of how I left, it was not and has not been easy, but I'm glad I'm free.
"Moooommmmmy! I'm coooooooold" wailed Ada, my little 2 year-old daughter as she stood shivering in the bitingly cold, windy and foggy UK early morning.
"Let's go back in and sleep a little, please Mommy!" begged Obi, my 8 year old son, his voice muffled by my head-tie-turned-scarf.
"I'm really sorry, babies! We can't go back in. We have to be out of the church at 5:30 am or they won't let us back another time. Remember what I said about adventures? There are some really-hard parts and some super-exciting parts. This is one of the hard ones,ok? But I promise, it'll get better, please sweeties?" I tried to comfort them.
"Ok, mommy!" they chorused and instantly start to argue about something inconsequential like they almost always did.
I shook my head, fondly and thanked God for the millionth time at how resilient and easy to please kids were. Or maybe, God just blessed me with extra-special kids! As we sit huddled up at the bus-stop, all of our luggage (2 big boxes and 2 over-stuffed backpacks) strewn around us, I struggled to hold back tears of bitterness and regret at all the years I wasted with Emeka, my husband and father of my kids.
One of the most recent incidents, a few days before I left Nigeria, kind of shook me up a little bit. I had just left the cinema where I had gone to see "The Interns". I was bored and worried about the time (it was about a little past 7pm) so I left half-way through the movie. On my way out, I saw a former business prospect (I run a small fitness consultancy for women) and we made small talk for a few minutes before we hugged goodbye and I hurried to try to catch a cab.
As I waited impatiently outside the Leisure Mall , I decided to start walking home and catch any empty one. Plus I needed the air, I wasn't in a good place emotionally. Eventually, I walked all the way home. I was almost at our gate when suddenly, all hell broke loose. I thought I was about to be kidnapped or robbed and my reflexes are less than zero so I stood petrified, chanting "Blood of Jesus!"
Turned out to be only Emeka, my painfully-handsome but spitting-mad husband. He had been in the mall too (coincidence or not? hmm) and had seen me talking to the lady as we had hugged at the end. I didn’t even know he was in he building complex but apparently, he had driven behind me as I walked home and as soon as I got to the gate, he speeds up and screeches to a screaming halt, startling me.
Before I could react, he grabs me the throat, calling me a “perverted lesbian slut”, that how come when he tried to get me to sleep with a girl on his birthday, I cried rape but I was picking them up on my own. I tried to tell him I was just “counseling” someone referred to me by one of my “virtual” boot-campers. He was already past that point. He says,” I am going to end this tonight.”He drags me kicking and screaming to the kitchen and asks me to pick out a knife, I begged him to forgive me but he takes the big, pointy one and drags me back to his bedroom. He then flung me on the floor, and put a foot on my throat to keep me still. I break loose and he grabs me and twists both my arms by the thumb and forefingers till the pain forced me to my knees. With his other hand , he loops the TV cord around my thigh so tightly I felt the rope cut into my skin. [picture left]
He starts on the other thigh but the door slams as my youngest sister and the kids return from fellowship. He quickly unties the cord and hides the knife.
"This isn't finished." He hisses, seconds before the kids burst in excitedly...
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