This is all your fault…And slaps her again.

You started drinking when you were pregnant with your first baby, a bottle of small stout spread over four or five days to help with the nausea. By the time you had your second, you were up to one bottle every two days. By the time your daughter – your third child – came, you were drinking close to three bottles every day; ogogoro on days you didn’t have money to spend.

Do you know how much blood comes out of a head wound? Plenty.  Especially when you’re hit on the head with a spanner by your husband. This is after you’ve insulted him for hours and torn his shirt because he wouldn’t bring enough money for your daughter’s naming ceremony. It’s been five days since you brought her home, two weeks since you had her, a tiny little thing who almost died, and you should be resting but it is important to have this party.  It doesn’t matter that your husband hasn’t been getting much work as a tanker driver. Other drivers are complaining about his drinking.

When he is asked why he drinks, he says he has a witch at home.
When you are asked why you drink, you say, you are married to the devil.
Neighbours help you when the blood starts to flow. They got tired of separating your fights a long time ago. Too many people had been hit by a stray fist from you or your husband so they stayed away. But today there is blood and so they hold you by the hand – still spewing invectives and kicking– and take you to a nearby chemist.
Your first has been standing by the door all along; it was his shout, mummy! that drew the neighbours’ attention. Your second is in the village with your mother, he was sick before your went to the hospital. The baby is inside your one-room apartment, asleep through the quarrel.

He goes into the room after everyone leaves, you with the neighbours, your husband to his favourite bar. He struggles to climb the bed, forbidden to him because he wets himself every night.

He lifts the baby net gently. He sits there and looks at her for a few minutes.
The slap is sudden, startling her awake; her cry is piercing.

This is all your fault, he says. And slaps her again.

– Enajite Efemuaye

My Celibacy: My Choice – Enajite Efemuaye

For an independent, single lady in my late twenties, there seems to be a acceptance that I have a license to have sex at will and if I’m not having sex it’s because some man hurt me and I was paying back all of ‘man’ kind. I remember being in school and someone told me, “it’s because you’re staying with your brother. As soon as he graduates, you will cut chain.”

It made me wonder where this idea that a single woman who is not married, and is living by herself is promiscuous, more so when she professes an acceptance and understanding of her sexuality.

So, I’ve been made to understand that when a female child is born, it is the duty of her parents to shield and protect her until it is time to hand her over to her husband who will continue to shield and protect her until she dies; or if he dies first, her children take over the duty. Summary, a woman cannot take care of herself, if she is left alone she will start doing bad bad things, like have sex up and down. Yes, people still think like that in 2015.

“Haba, but you help yourself, right?”

“What do you mean by helping myself?”

“You know na. You’re a big girl na. You know what I’m talking about.”

*blank stare*

Just for the record, I had no idea what he was talking about.

I took a decision not to have sex until marriage when I was barely a teen and didn’t understand how difficult it would get. And boy did it get hard. The pressure is intense not just from without, but from within, especially when you’re with someone you really like and who know all the right mental buttons to press. But, I digress. This is about people’s reactions when you tell them you’re celibate.

“Your thing will tighten so much that when you decide to do, it will be very painful.’

(A lot of people seem to think being celibate means I cannot bear to hear the words vagina, penis, sex and orgasm). I’m nice, so I take my time with the help of images from google to explain why this is false.

“It is because you have not met the right man yet. If you let me, I’ll take you to heaven and back. I’ll show you so much pleasure you’ll . . .  yada, yada, yada.”

This one is particularly funny, because guys like this most times have no idea what to do with a woman. They follow the FORMULA: lips, breast, vagina, pound. Women that own these men, please stop deceiving them. Thank you.

“Really? Are you sure? Wow. Keep it up, sister.” Yep. Even from the brethren. While they’re not trying to get into your pants, there’s still this slight disbelief because it seems prayers is no barrier against konji.

“Babe! Men will value you, ehn! As you’re not giving it to them they’ll be showering you with gifts just because they want it.” Can someone please point me in the direction of these men because I haven’t met any?

I don’t go around telling people I’m celibate, but we’re so obsessed with sex in this generation that the topic almost always comes up.

There’s an almost proprietory air around most people when they are discussing other people’s sexual lives, who is sleeping with who, why, how? It is sickening and highly disturbing.

When I say my body is mine and I have a right to do with it as I please, this also includes not doing. I don’t believe sex is empowering or diminishing. I’m not a better person because I’m having or not having sex. I’m not less of a woman because I don’t use my being single and independent to ‘catch fun.’

I am just me.