MY HUSBAND USED TO BRING HOME PROSTITUTES TO SLEEP WITH THEM IN MY PRESENCE. NOW THAT HE HAS HIV, HE WANTS TO FORCEFULLY INFECT ME!

 “I refused to listen to my parents and older siblings because I thought I was in love. I gave him my virginity and everything -free of charge. Then he turned me into a punching bag!”

My name is Mamma and I live in Karu, Abuja. I have two lovely children and I’m both a hairstylist and a designer. “How lucky you are!” I hear you say. But not so fast, you don’t know the half of my story. My life is swimming in a river of tears. I’ve shed more than the tears for a lifetime in some days -tears of regret.

 I live away from my lovely children. Their father who should be my husband never deemed it expedient to pay my bride price but that’s not all. He now despises me like filth. Our cohabitation all these years; my humiliation; and my professed undying love have all been a waste. There’s even worse, but let me start at the beginning.

My tale dates back to many years ago when I was in Senior Secondary One, in Kaduna State. I was around 16 years and still a virgin, the way all girls from responsible families should. Like many girls my age, I possessed a very myopic knowledge of love. I fantasized about Mr. Right every day, until I met Oseni.

He swept me off my feet, capitalizing on my innocence and shyness. He was far older than I, very confident and good looking. He also bought me many small presents and gave me pocket money that made me the envy of my friends. He told me he loved me and wanted to marry me and I shyly replied that I felt the same way. After all, what is a teenage girl expected to reply if the man she fancies says ‘I love you’?

I come from a Christian home while Oseni is a Muslim. Despite the fact that we both speak the same language, people from my local government are predominantly Christians while Oseni’s people are chiefly Muslims.

Before long, my parents got wind of our romance. I was seriously warned to desist from visiting Oseni. My parents and siblings disapproved strongly of our relationship. I couldn’t go out with a Muslim, they said. I tried in my innocent way to explain to them that love is blind and that religious differences shouldn’t come between two people in love. I only got scolded or received dirty slaps on my face each time I attempted to convince them of our love.

My parents told me that Oseni’s people, even though, speakers of the same language as us, are notorious for their fetish and diabolical acts. I wept and told them they didn’t want my happiness. Then I threatened to get pregnant for my lover.

True to my threat, I disregarded all admonitions and pleas from my folks and took in for Oseni. He deflowered me and I got pregnant at the tender age of 17.

After the humiliation of beatings and insults, my parents drove me out of the house to go live with the father of my unborn baby. That was just what I wanted. If they thought they could separate Oseni and me, they were jokers.

Oseni and I began to live together. I expected that, as was the custom, he would go and apologize to my parents for putting me in the family way, and then officially ask for my hand in marriage.

He had other plans. He explained to me that our priority should be my safe birth, not marriage. After all, we were already living together. We were even married by mutual consent, he said.

Before long, I converted to Oseni’s religion and gave myself to him, body and soul. I gave birth to a baby boy and looked forward to visiting my parents with my beautiful child whenever Oseni agreed to officially marry me.

 I soon discovered that he had no plans of marrying me at all. He began to beat me up at the slightest provocation. He was insensitive to my tears which flowed freely like a river. Then without any warning, Oseni lost his job. He grew colder toward me and increased his maltreatment of me. He began to bring home his girlfriends and prostitutes to make love to them in our bedroom. Whenever I protested, he gave me enough beatings to silence me while his girls laughed their heads off.

Despite this humiliating treatment, I didn’t contemplate going back home. How could I go back and tell my folks that I renounced my religion, threw away my virginity and disobeyed them only to come back begging and crying. The humiliation of their laughter would be worse.

Hunger came to live with us after Oseni squandered his severance package. I was forced to start working as a hairstylist. I began to bring home money and Oseni’s dead love for me awoke miraculously. I became the bread winner of the family. Things improved between us and my love for him multiplied. I took in again, not minding the fact that Oseni was yet to pay my bride price.

Oseni was introduced into business by his friends. He became a car dealer. He began to bring in cars from Cotonou to sell in Nigeria. Rather than rejoice, I was afraid that he would go back to his bad ways. He didn’t hesitate. He began to maltreat me all over, again, beating me up like an animal after the smallest argument. He brought home more prostitutes and girl friends and insulted me in their presence. I began to try different ways to abort my pregnancy. I used abortion drugs, ogogoro, lime and different concoctions but didn’t succeed. I eventually gave birth to a baby girl.

The years went by. I spent most nights weeping and the days hustling. Oseni continued to chase after his women and beat me up whenever he was bored. At this point, he didn’t even treat me like a woman. It was like I was no longer beautiful or attractive. Many neighbours advised me to go back to my parents to avoid being killed, but I was ashamed of going back after what I did.

After some time, Oseni began to fall sick every now and then. He also began to emaciate drastically. He was suddenly taking different types of drugs and herbal concoctions. When I asked what was wrong, he angrily told me nothing was wrong with him. He encouraged me to take a concoction with him but I refused strongly, explaining that nothing was wrong with me.

Unknown to me, he was spreading news that I was the one who bewitched him and wanted him dead. I wouldn’t have known if his sister has not come to advise me. She said she didn’t believe that I was capable to doing harm to her brother. I was enraged when I learnt that my children’s husband, my only love could suspect me of such evil. When I confronted him, he apologized.

I began to investigate what was really wrong. I enquired from Dr. Kingsley, the family doctor who lied that he was suffering from Typhoid and Malaria.

One day, Oseni’s friend and two girls came to take him to the hospital. I attempted to follow them but he shouted, even in his weak state, at me to back off. He was soon admitted at the same hospital ran by Dr. Kingsley. When his sister and I later visited, I wept in the doctor’s office, telling him that my husband thought I was after his life. I told him to convince my husband to go to a Babalawo to find out if I was guilty or not. I have never visited a native doctor in my life. The doctor was enraged.

 “Is that what your husband told you?” The angered doctor asked, “He must be a very wicked man. Does he want the family to lynch you after his death when he knows the real cause of his ailment?” Dr. Kingsley told Oseni’s sister and I that he was HIV positive. I fainted.

When Oseni left the hospital, I confronted him. I told him I was disappointed in the manner he treated me. Why did he spread rumours that I was responsible for his illness when he knew all along that he was HIV infected? Accounting to the doctor, he’d been positive for two years. He apologized and I assured him that I still loved him and would stand by him for the rest of our lives. No one would hear it from one, I assured him. I convinced him to seek deliverance from some powerful men of God. I used my contacts as a former Christian and we went to some churches for prayers. After some time he stopped going. He warned me to desist from going to churches or risk leaving his house. I told him I couldn’t stop and he resumed his battering.

 Even today, my neck and shoulders are stiff. I lift up my hands with effort, thanks to Oseni’s battering.

I decided at last to leave for my sister’s place. I was forced to tell them of the pains I’d been swallowing in silence for years. I refrained from mentioning that he was HIV positive. They blamed me for not remembering that I was their flesh and blood. How could I endure all these from a man who didn’t think me worthy of a bride price? They asked.

Before long, Oseni came and begged my people to let me go with him. Despite their refusal, I went back because of my children. I couldn’t live away from my beautiful children. Only a woman will understand a mother’s love. I did a test at Dr. Kingsley’s hospital and discovered I was HIV negative. I couldn’t believe it! I did more tests to corroborate Dr. Kingsley, test, even in ABUTH. All the tests confirmed that I didn’t have the virus.

Oseni suddenly began to pester me for sex. He refused protection. I told him I couldn’t risk making love with him without a condom. He beat me up and even called a family meeting where he complained that I was not ready to sleep with him. The meeting broke up in a quarrel. After the aborted meeting, Oseni gave me two conditions. I should stop going to church and resume sleeping with him without protection or leave his house. I chose to leave.

 He collected everything he had ever bought for me. I sold my equipment in the hair dressing salon and moved to my uncle’s house in Karu, Abuja. This is three years after. When I went visiting the first time after our separation, he followed me to the park with slaps. The workers at the motor park were my savior that day or he would have stripped me naked. I proceeded to the police station and had him locked up. Since then, I’ve been given permission to visit my children. They also visit me in Abuja.

 I am strong but the tears of regret won’t stop flowing. Is my life wasted or is there hope for one yet? I am still in my mid 30s. I need your advice and encouragement.

Editor's note: Please leave your comments.