I sat down watching the women's mouth as each of them recall their sweet encounters of how they were beaten by their husbands, they bragged about the scars on their body like one who had won a trophy in the Olympics, indeed, to the women of Ogbaneke it was there trophy indeed, the proof of their strength and resilience, their curriculum vitae of an able wife.
It's even rumoured that a lady cannot be given any position of authority if she is without scar, some people says the gods refuses the sacrifices of those without scars.
I ran my eyes through my partly clad body, my polished dark skin, more smooth than the surface of a ceramic plate, without scar, I couldn't help but fantasize about my own encounter, when my Yakubu will get so mad that he will descend on me with his fist and make me a real woman of the community, I was still caught up in my fantasy when I heard, "Black Iyawo on brown, any contribution?" I lifted my eyes to see the eyes of all women present on me, how could I tell them my husband had never laid his hands on me, how can I tell them he adores my skins and worship them like we do the gods? How can I tell them my husband would rather kill another than vent his anger on me.
"Onye-a owukwa nwanyi mmadu?" A mocking voice rented the previously quiet stream.
"Eyi ko le ṣe aya, wo bi o ṣe joko bi ayaba ni ibi baba rẹ" Iya Kudirat blurt, her face clearly spelt disgust.
I tried to say something, but my moving mouth couldn't make out words, my hand by now was visibly shaking.
"mijinki bai ƙone ku ba? kuna nufin cewa ba a sanya ku cikin ainihin mace ba?" a lanky looking, dark skinned lady tapped my back.
I tilted my head slowly to the left and to the right and I got hisses as response.
"Are you a real woman?" they asked.
"I..... just don't know how to make him do it, gege bi ọrọ otitọ, Mo fẹ awọn iṣiro lori ara rẹ, ati pe mo fẹ pe ọkọ mi yoo ṣe bẹ si mi, Mo fẹ lati jẹ obirin pẹlu, Mo fẹran pupọ" my lips twitch.
"Then learn from the great teacher," Iya Kudirat wave gesturing I pay close attention to her. "ẹnu rẹ" she said tapping her lips to buttress her point, "is all you need" She blurt, peering into my eyes as though she wanted transfer the aggression through her eyes to me, our eyes locked nonetheless, and she said very firmly, "let your mouth speak, be a woman, talk, you will barely say four lines before your husband will descend on you, if he doesn't, abuse him, those abuse you know you won't take from your own friends, surely by tomorrow you will come here smiling and narrating your testimony to us all" She finished.
I batted my eyelid, how in the world will I abuse a man that has done nothing but love me?
"ti o ko ba ni wiwa ti ara rẹ, a yoo yọ ọ kuro lati darapọ mọ ipade wa, awọn ipade wa fun iriri ati gbogbo eniyan gbọdọ kopa, jẹ pe ko o?" Iya Kudirat spat.
I got up without giving her a reply, swept my pot of water off the ground where it had been sitting with me, hurried to the stream, drew my water with the pot, made sure it balanced on my head then set out to my house, the other women laughed, some made some derogatory statement that I just ignored. On my way home, the words of Iya Kudirat came back, I could hear it resounding, "our meeting are for the experienced, no scar equals losing membership, my mouth, the only weapon I need" I felt like thrashing the words, but then, Iya Kudirat meeting at the stream is the reason I woke up every Ogbaneke Women Stream Day, I can't afford to live ostracized, coming to the stream and leaving almost immediately with other women jeering. This can not be me at all. It can't be my story, today, though it may be hard, but I must be initiated into womanhood!
Ogbaneke Women
#Episode2
Chines Zoe
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