You must be wondering who I am or what my letter entails since you met it at your door. But worry less, I am your fairy angel who seeks to save you.
I am sorry I can’t ask “how are you doing” because I see your right eye is blue and the other black. There’s little heavy makeup can hide in the pictures you put up on Facebook. I see them. I like them and sometimes, when aggrieved, I comment. But you ignore my warnings. You are in love with Tunde. You are getting older and your parents and siblings are subtly mounting pressure on you. Your younger sister asked you politely to be her chief bridesmaid. How could she, right?
“Fairy angel, Can you not see that I am stuck with him? I cannot leave Tunde. His life will be a mess without me”. You say.
I know that’s what is running through your mind, Bisi. But isn’t your life turning into a mess?
Every time you spend the night at his house, he shouts at you. He slaps you once in a while, he has to put you in your place. Sometimes, you both don’t agree. Instead of finding common ground, he storms off. On bad days, he stands his ground and deals with you.
On Saturdays, you wear anko to owanbe. People who sight you two are waiting for your wedding invitation card. They think you are happy and sometimes, they wink at Tunde because they see you have gotten fatter. That must mean he is taking good care of you. Oh, have they met the beast that erupts at night when you get home and sadly, you never make it to church the next day? Do they even care to check on you when you have to submit an “absentee notice” in office because you cannot afford to be a liability with your broken arm?
I watch you battle with stereotypes. I see you can’t leave him because you are scared of what your parents will say. I see you can’t even express your opinions anymore because he has shown and told you that you don’t matter. All that I see is a young lady who wants to run for her life but she can’t. She can’t risk Instablog9ja running her family name in the mud. “
“A lady must stay put and save her relationship,” You think. But what would she save when she is buried six feet below the ground with her fiance dressed in black but his heart isn’t mourning?
He gets to marry another woman. Society accepts that he can. Who wants his bed cold at night anyway?
So Bisi, I am writing this because I love you. Because even though you didn’t ask me for my guidance before stepping into the relationship, I still care for you. I am scared, Bisi. Why stay in the mud with a pig when you are entitled to a prince? Not all men are like him, don’t you see, Bisi?
Bisi, it is never too late to walk out else you might be carried out in a body bag when it is just too late. You can and must speak up. You must get help now. Do not dismiss his abusive behaviour and say he’s only done it once. “What if a next time never comes?” you think. Bisi, stop it right there. You are lucky, you are engaged and not married.
Save yourself a bright future by walking out. Walk out with your head raised high above your shoulders. And if you are married, see a marriage counsellor and pray.
Remember, you always have a choice: to leave or not.
Bisi, a single woman who breathes is worth more than one who is married but goes to the grave a few months after.
Reclaim your life, Bisi. Go out with friends and shout on top of your lungs at mountaintops. Live and love, Bisi.
And if you build yourself and help other women who unlike you are still caught in the trap of domestic violence, a prince will come looking.
This time, he will come on his knees and not with his fist.
Your assigned “Fairy Angel”
While this is a fictitious story, it happens all the time, Don’t subject yourself to a kind of violence that can be avoided if you sit up and make the right decision.
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