Save NTC

 

…As his shadow fell over us, it reminded me of the biggest man I had ever seen!

Once when my mother was in the shared kitchen (which our neighbours used too). It was outside the house and suddenly there was an argument. “Mercy, I will send you to an early grave!”, he yelled at her. She knew better than to respond, when he got that angry, but her silence seemed to anger him all the more. In a split second as she left the kitchen and stepped into the room, he gave her two heavy blows to her head, the force caused her to bang her head against the wall. My mother slid against the wall and fell to the ground. I rushed over to her and only remember crying my eyes out, as I sat beside her. Thankfully, my father after angrily pacing the room for a few minutes, left the house. Her forehead was bleeding on the right side, as she tried to open her eyes. After laying there on the floor for about half an hour, she slowly helped herself up, as she sobbed bitterly. She stood up, carried her hand bag, locked up the room, took me by the hand and we both headed out. I looked up at her face, she had used a veil to cover the right side of her face.  We arrived at the local police station, my mother went to the counter and narrated a summary of what had happened, and the police man pointed to a bench and asked us to sit in the waiting area. There were six women, four men and five children cramped up in the waiting corner. My mother sat on the bench closest to the door.

After nearly five hours of waiting, a very tall and huge man in police uniform with an enormous pot belly came walking directly towards us. Two other officers with guns followed closely behind him. As he approached us, it became apparent that he was actually heading for the door. My mother stood up immediately and followed behind him too, as he walk past us. The other people in the waiting area stood up to follow him out, as well. My mother ran as quickly as she could towards him. One of the officers opened the back door of the car, as he was about to enter the vehicle, she begged that he listened to her. By this time, one of the younger officers following him tried to deter her. The boss paused and looked at her, from among the crowd that had gathered around the vehicle, and he said to her, “What happened to your face, madam?”  She responded, it was my husband, sir. The man responded, “What did you do to him to warrant such a beating? He asked for money and I told him I didn’t have any to give him because I needed to go to the market later in the week. “Then it is your fault, exclaimed the man. Why didn’t you give him little money from the sale of your ‘kosai’ (bean cakes) in order to maintain the peace? Then he dipped his hand into his pocket and removed some money, he handed it to the younger officer that had opened the door for him and signalled to him to give N5,000 (approximately £6) to my mother and distribute what was left to onlookers. He told her that she should use it to get medical attention at a chemist (mini pharmacy), since we could never afford treatments at the hospital. He also assured her that her husband would be invited over for questioning. My mother thanked him profusely and watched as the vehicle drove off, she took me by the hand and she went to buy my favourite snack for me to compensate for the long wait. We then proceeded to the to the local chemist for medical attention, she got four stitches for the deep cut close to the brow of her right eye. We had become regular attendants at the neighbourhood chemist, unfortunately. I heard the nurse telling my mother with a deep sigh, out of concern, “this man (referring to my father) will kill you one day, you should leave him before it is too late”. And my mother began to sob, she replied to the nurse in despair, “where will I start from, on my own with little Albert…Where?”.

The following day, later that morning, my mother and father were summoned to the police station.  As my father finished narrating his side of the story, after my mother had finished saying hers, (bearing in mind that unfortunately for her, by this time Violence Prohibition Act had not been signed to prevent these domestic violence incidents which had become a norm). I noticed a grin on the officer’s face, and he said, this one is a marriage issue, it’s love! It’s just a small slap and you’re complaining, madam? We have seen worst cases, at least you weren’t too badly beaten and taken to the hospital” Then he called my husband aside and talked to him, before long they both were sharing a joke and laughing to my mother’s disgust, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

..To be continued in the next edition

Join our Mailing list!