A Woman’s Role
My husband barks at me when he wants to touch me.
“Don’t,” I say.
“Why?” He asks sharply. Like he expects an answer. But I’ve given him many. Now I don’t even bother anymore. If I am not on my period it is not serious enough.
Because I’m tired. Is what I’m thinking. Because I’ve had a long day. Because my eyes are swollen and my back hurts. Because I’m not feeling successful? I wonder if that line of thought at least will appeal to him. Because where is our own prosperity? Because I don’t feel that I am living in the abundance God promised me. Because I’m doing a lot of work and I don’t yet feel that I’m enjoying the fruits of my labor. Because I’m just as frustrated as you.
We are broke again this month. Money goes faster than it comes in. Our rent is due in three weeks. My husband wants to take out his own frustrations on my breast.
I stare at the ceiling sometimes, the space above his bobbing head, and I think of my ancestors. Other women like me. Are there any other women like me? I think of my mother. Mama, is this part of what you meant when you told me to submit to my husband? But my mother is not a working woman. I suspect that our problems are different. She retired from a budding career as soon as she first conceived and went on to have four children for my father. The first three have left the home and she is about to bundle the last one out of the nest. My elder brother is somewhere in Warri. My younger sister has moved into her boyfriend’s house and is lying to us that she has an apartment we are not allowed to see.
My mother raised us all from home. Around the time my younger sister was born, she started to wear a wrapper and hairnet at home. Mama has no pressing goals. She has breakfast and dinner ready for Baba at 5am and 7pm respectively. Prompt. My mother is not like me.
Someone else then.
How about the Proverbs 31 woman? Was it as hard then as it is now to be successful at work? I am a career woman. How did she wake up so energetically every day at 5? Was her work as tasking as mine? Were her maids just helpers? Or did they do all of the real work? How did she start her business as a merchant of clothes? How did she meet business contacts? Should my husband help me build my business? Or should we only focus on building his?
Did she plant and harvest a whole field by herself? Should I be patient and expect that life will get better when we can afford to get a maid? Was the Proverbs 31 woman praised because her husband could grab her at any time and take his pleasure?
Is resignation what it means to be a good wife? To not argue when my husband tells me I do not show him love? Do I exist to comply? Are the stakes different because I am currently the sole income provider in this family, or is a woman only a wo-man (helper) because of the things she can do in bed? Are there any other women in situations like mine? Are all men the same in the privacy of their bedroom? What should I do with this part of me that wants better? That wants more? If I ignore it, I am worried that I will not be the same me.
My husband’s words hurt me, but I do not know how to say this. When he has an erection he can barely think. Everything is an argument and I become the nagging wife. I do not enjoy being the nagging wife. I would like to be someone that is heard and understood.
Where I come from, women are married before the age of 22. The eldest always leave before the youngest. My mother has been married since she was 18. My sister is engaged and turning 22. She shuffles around her fiancé like she is a ghost and he is her tomb.
I wonder if I can cheat the system and divorce my husband. I have been tempted lately by the idea of ‘freedom’. If it means peace at night and less barking and groaning, let me have it. I will go home and tell them at least I was married. But I cannot leave my husband. My childhood friend, Patrice, tried it. When she came home, her father threw her things out of the house, then picked them up again and threw them out of the compound. A woman belongs to her husband. He has paid her dowry.
Amaka is now living on her own in the City. Maybe I will go and see her soon.
My mind snaps back to reality. My husband is still sweating on top of me, but he will soon ejaculate. Then I can sleep.
