Burr! Burr! Brrrm!!
My ungodly alarm would have continued to beep if I hadn’t reached across for my phone. My iPhone 7, the pride and joy of my current single to stupor status. I live in a generation where you had to show your married peers that you had the capacity to take care of yourself and buy the best things for yourself in your singledom. The phone, my best companion, was the result of a sacrifice of six months of saving.
I hate my job!
I hate that despicable place I go to from Monday to Friday and spend 9am-5pm of my life at. I love the pay though, it’s decent. I also love the environ, it has a great snapchat geo-filter but I would literally vomit on Jide ( official title “Mr Williams”) if he dares tell me to “take a spin in my skirt for daddy”. He keeps repeating orders like that sort all day, dishing comments like “ Aisha , (after I stopped him from calling me baby girl) you are serving serious looks in that skirt but can you wear anything underneath considering how tight it is”…YUCK!!
I know what you are thinking right, report to H.R … but I’m not ready to live with the stigma and victimization of taking down the great jide Williams. The worst case scenario is to now end up on one rabid online platform like Instablog Naija. Please, how is my condition worse than women who are being beaten daily by their spouse, and haven’t reported? I live in a generation where silence is indeed a golden virtue.
I got to work, switched on the television and tuned into a campaign speech Hillary Clinton was delivering. I wondered why a woman wanted so much power. I like her honestly. She was breaking moulds and barriers for women in this century. Times I came across women like her, Mrs Obama and Sarah Paulin, I always understand the difference between being in power and being in position. Whilst my country’s first ladies have assumed the role of trophy wives to be seen and not to be heard and currently play the roles of NGO’s in their various states, one can only draw strength from women that show how wrong the role of women as second class citizens in Nigeria is a fundamental flaw.
I fly out the door to start my break, I honestly cannot resist going through my instagram feed. I stare at my best friend’s post like a mute dummy for close to five minutes. It was Monday and of course Michael was her #MCM. But all I could see was a Monster Crush Monday. I felt bile rise to my throat as a picture of Jennifer’s face flashed in my mind the last time his fists visited her face. He beats her blue black at the slightest provocation. I knew she endured his verbal abuse whilst they were dating but like all vain humans, the prospect of a bellanaija wedding and a fairy tale life style sucked out all her remaining sense. The last time I asked her why she wasn’t ready to live, she said she would rather end up as a post on blogs than be single at 30 like me. I wasn’t dumb enough to not take a hint. She has indeed made her bed and is ready to lay there with the thorns.
These thoughts run through my head as I run out the door of Jide Williams & Associates and I know that’s my last day in this building. I walk to my car, but unfortunately I couldn’t avoid stumbling in the physical and in my mind.
“Aisha please I need you in my office right now”
“Yes sir” … I wonder what he wants now.
“Shut the door behind.”
He looked frantic and more agitated than usual. He gets up from behind the table and walks towards me. He tries to grab me but everything goes downhill from there. I beat him mercilessly. Oga did not know I had a military dad.
I picked myself up, walked to my car and dialled my brother’s line. Now here’s the deal with Umar (my brother). He is a handsome young and intelligent lawyer, that would have probably had more money than he would need in one life time if the girls he went after knew the difference between ‘boyfriend’ and ‘daddy’.
“I need weaves”
“Change my phone”
“Charge my uber to your account”
All I see out with my darling brother are the proverbial Naira diggers , with no future ambition, girls who were raised with the mentality that it’s okay to be a liability to your man and he’s to provide all your needs. Well all I remember is, God told Eve – you are to be the help –mate. That is, the man does the work but you help out also. I just pray these girls remove their hooks from Umar. I had a long talk with him and he assured me that the lawsuit I have against jide would be worth the stress.
I drive out of that parking garage with the mind-set that although I was raised by a 20th century woman who believed that silence is golden, I am a 21st century woman and I shall be heard, my voice shall break barriers, stereotypes and most importantly, would be recorded in the books of history because society should brace up for me for like a wrecking ball, “Aisha was indeed coming “.
Written by Dolapo Omotoso