My name is Uduak. I live in Lagos but I am from the Akwa Ibom State. It is with heavy heart that I tell my story but, I don’t want anyone to fell pity for me because I deserve whatever is happening to me today.
I came from a poor home. We barely managed to survive. My father was a gateman and my mother a petty trader. We lived in the boy’s quarter of the house being guarded by my father. I am the second girl from a family of three girls and two boys. I completed my secondary school education at the age of 17. I started attending evening JAMB classes somewhere in Ikeja because my dream was to gain admission into the University of Lagos, study accountancy, then work in the bank.
It was during one of the evenings I was coming back from classes that I met Alhaji Hassan. From the first day he met me, he told me he liked me and promised to do whatever I asked of him. Alhaji Hassan gives me money every week just to ensure that I don’t get tempted by other man. I got so used to not being cash trapped that I neglected my JAMB classes to spend time with him in his hotel suite. Anyway, at the end, I sat for the JAMB examination and failed woefully but I was not bothered because Alhaji was there for me.
My father and siblings supported me because I bring home money. In fact, I became the bread winner of the family. Alhaji bought me a car, I had a fat bank account, he opened a big boutique for me on Allen and moved me and my family into a three bedroom flat. While I opened a small shop for my mother, my father stopped his gateman job and started his carpentry business which he was doing before. I also gave my sisters money to start their own business and sponsored my brothers in school.
One evening, my mother told me she wanted to have a talk with me. When every one was asleep, she said to me, “Uduak my daughter, don’t you think Alhaji is old enough to be your father? Why not leave him and look for a younger man who will marry you? Alhaji already has three wives according to you.” Those words pierced through my heart like a sword. I felt she was ungrateful and has bitten the fingers that feed her. So, I said to her, “after almost two years with what Alhaji has done for this family you are just realizing he is old enough to be my father isn’t it?” That was the beginning of me and my mother’s problem.
As the bread winner, nobody could talk to me. I did whatever I liked and I enjoyed controlling everybody. It was even worse for my mother. At the slightest provocation, I either slap her or tell her to shut up. From there, it graduated to beating. My mother would cry for hours, after which she would still apologize to me if not she would get no form of assistance from me. Beating my mother became something I enjoyed doing until the last beating I gave her.
Before I left home that morning, I told my younger sister, Mercy to help me prepare dinner because I would be coming home with Alhaji. By the time I got home, I did not see any food prepared nor did I see Mercy. “Woman, where is Mercy?” I asked my mother. Sensing trouble, she softly replied “I sent her to the market to help me get some foodstuff for the house.” “Didn’t she tell you I asked her to prepare dinner that I was coming with a guest?” “She did but I thought she will be back to prepare the food before your arrival,” she said. “So, why didn’t you prepare the food since it is getting late and she is not back yet?” I asked. “I have been feeling feverish since morning. I did not even go to my shop today,” she told me.
Immediately, I pulled her by her blouse, slapped and punched her until she fell to the ground. She kept begging me but I did not listen. Instead, I kept hitting and calling her wicked and stupid mother. When she could not take the beating anymore, she fainted. I left her in the kitchen and went to meet Alhaji in the sitting room. It was when Mercy came back that she saw our mother lying unconscious on the kitchen floor and shouted for help. “Mama is lying unconscious in the kitchen, let us rush her to the hospital please,” she pleaded. It took me about 15 minutes to decide if I wanted to help save my mothers life or not.
When we got to the hospital, she was immediately put on drip. I gave Mercy some money and left with Alhaji. When Mercy came home, she told me our mother had regained conscious but that the doctor said she had some internal bleeding and her chances of survival was minimal. When she saw that I showed no sign of remorse, she looked straight into my eyes for the first time and said me, “Udauk, you may be the bread winner of this family but if anything happens to mama, I will never forgive you and her blood will be upon your head.”
Reluctantly I decided to go and see her. She was alone with my father discussing but immediately I entered the room, she pointed at me and in tears said, “Uduak, except I did not carry you in my womb for nine months or you did not suck my breast, for all the things you have done to me just because I talked to you about Alhaji Hassan. Your children will do it to you three times over.” As I took a step towards her with the intention of begging for her forgiveness, the fear of me hurting her again scared her and she screamed. Immediately, my father asked me to leave the room. That was the last time I saw my mother.
This caused a big problem between me and my siblings. They never forgave me. After the burial, they moved out of the apartment with my father to where I don’t know till date. Alhaji took everything he gave me and asked me to vacate the apartment because of what he called my wicked action.
With the money in my account, I started buying and selling women wears. It was during the course of my business that I met and married my husband, Michael. We have two daughters although he died seven years ago. I am 48 years old, my elder daughter is 21 while the other is 19 but they have no single respect for me. They smoke, drink, beat me and bring all sorts of men home. Any day I complain about their behavior, they will beat me black and blue. I become an errand girl for them any day their men friends will come home because I must keep the whole house clean, buy drinks and cigarettes and must stay locked in my room until they are done.
I woke up in the hospital bed but the last thing I remembered was that my daughters asked me to go and buy some bottles of star and a packet of cigarette which I refused because I was having a headache. The next thing both of them pounced on me and started beating me. When I started bleeding, they rushed me to the hospital. At the hospital, my elder daughter warned me not to come home after I am discharged if I don’t want to die an untimely death and dashed out. I have not set my eyes on them after that day. Now I have been discharged. Where do I go from here? My mothers curse is indeed working. I now understand what she went through as a mother. But, I don’t want to place a curse on my children. What do I do?
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