EZINNE.

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The PIMME series

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Hey, I am Ezinne Okoroafor, the unfortunate girl, and I want to open my life’s window for you to have a little peek at the grass of my life.

If one had told Ezinne Jibunna that she was going to be a pastor's wife, she would have sworn on her late parents grave. Orphaned Ezinne was raised by her wicked uncle, Gollibe, who constantly forced himself on her and beat her till she stopped crying and wailing. It was obvious she hadn't intended for any of that to happen, but she didn’t have a choice. And you know the sad thing? Ezinne wasn’t among the lucky ones that would hawk oranges on the streets and meet one fine, rich uncle or aunt that would ask questions like, "Why are you not in school? Where are your parents?". She just wasn’t lucky. Her uncle had withdrawn her from school when she was sixteen, saying that he didn't believe in education for women and that he wanted her to get ready for marriage. To him, educated women were like oversized baboons who would always look for opportunities to raise their ugly heads.

"You are ripe, Ezinne!" He had told her "You will get married soon to a very rich man who will take very good care of you". "But that’s not what I want, Uncle". She had pleaded, "You child! You don’t have a choice; you will get married.

And in the twinkling of an eye, Onyeka Jibunna came into full view, the wealthy son of Chief Jibunna who had just returned from America. Charming,handsome,rich, tall, and respectful He was everything and fit right into the husband-material criteria. He didn’t have to do too much to win Uncle Gollibe’s heart. At the mention of America and at the sight of local gin. He was already falling to his feet.

The marriage ceremony took place with Ezinne spilling the palm wine drink twice on the floor as her hands quavered in fear. "Stubborn brat! Just like her mother". Uncle Gollibe had yelled in disgust.

And that was how she moved out of the village into a loveless home and marriage. She didn’t love Onyeka; he was definitely not her type, but she just had a feeling that she could manage and they would eventually grow to love each other—not until the day she served him the previous day's egusi soup. I mean, she had warmed it before she served it, and it wasn’t tasting spoilt.

I am not on anyone’s side, but the truth must be told.

All hell broke loose as he pounced on her, almost ending her already miserable life. And from that day on, she became his punching bag, from whenever he was frustrated to whenever she had offended him. Life was like a bitter leaf stuffed in Ezinne’s mouth. All shades of Atarodo

He had successfully beaten four children out of her womb in the space of five years. And he would buy her chocolates and very sugary biscuits, sit her down, and tell her that God was in control and they were sure going to have more babies. Like that was going to fix anything. It was really sad.

And here she was being greeted with the big, unbelievable news that her husband had been appointed as the junior pastor of El-Shaddai Ministries. Ezinne? Pastor’s wife? Jibunna! A pastor?. It felt so surreal. She had enjoyed her life as a conspicuous member of the church, and she absolutely wasn’t ready to be under the scrutinizing eyes of those overly righteous, judgmental women. She didn’t want anyone in her business, but then again, She didn’t have a choice. Jibunna had gone all the way to get her an expensive dinner gown, shoes, and jewelry for the party, and he treated her like a little princess, kissing her at every slightest opportunity and introducing her as his backbone. "Ezinne, wake up". She had whispered as she pinched herself several times, but it wasn’t a dream, and immediately after the party was over, he was back to treating her like a slave.

"Jesus, you love me too much!". Chichi, the choir leader, sang aloud with her tiny, bird-like voice. She was always wearing revealing clothes, and it was alleged that she was 40 years old and yet unmarried. Some said it was a spiritual problem; others said she was a prostitute who hadn’t retired. But anyways, it was Ezinne’s first Sunday as a pastor's wife, and she was seated in front along with "her support system," Jibunna, as she forced a smile. She cowered under the deep, piercing stares of the church members. So many tongues were wagging, and eyes were rolling. From the girls, of course, and even married women. Yess. They had always wanted to have something to do with Onyeka, and now that he was a pastor, the pressure was sure going to be "wesser" They didn’t mind at all. Side chick, baby mama, whatever, they were in for it. And you know the funny thing? They weren’t young girls clad in skimpy outfits, heavy makeup, or extremely high heels; they weren't those that chewed gum loudly or had long lashes and nails. They were the ones that wore the longest wedding gowns, the tallest turbans, and believed in natural beauty—no makeup, no jewelry. The ones that say that "if you wear a Rolex wristwatch, you won’t make heaven" , the ones that would stand beside "Papa" and carry his briefcase, dust his suit, and shoe . The head of the side chick association and personal assistant to Pastor Onyi Jibunna, Bonquicia Laye, had already started judging Ezinne for wearing a gown just below her knees. "It's too short," she snapped, and after service, she was the first to rush at Ezinne, grab her bag, and lead her to the car.

I am already judging. Sighs.

"So you have refused to give my son a child, an heir. You barren woman!". Onyeka’s mother had scowled at her, and what could poor Ezinne do? "We will keep trying.". Onyeka had said, and that night they supposedly tried again, four weeks later. Ezinne watched her fifth child flow from beneath her legs. "Not again". She had whispered silently. Everything in her screamed "tired." The words of the women at the church meeting rang like a bell in her ears. "Unworthy! Barren! "Dumb!" and her world closed in on her as she slumped.

"Mrs Jibunna! Mrs. Jibunna ma!". A young girl had stopped Ezinne just after service. "Yes dear!" Ezinne had forced a smile. "I must say, ma, that you are really lucky to have a husband like Pastor Onyi. I pray that when I get married, I have a home just like yours". She smiled, and tears welled up in Ezinne’s eyes as she excused herself. If only she knew.

All these kept going on and on and on. Onyeka was becoming beastly by the day, and the bruises were getting bigger and bigger. It won’t be long until he kills her. Ezinne had written destiny a letter a long time ago; she had given up on her big dreams; everything had been washed away by July’s rain. She just barely survived day after day, cooking, cleaning, and going to church while she waited for the day she would be called home.

Do you know what broke me in all of this? Do you know the last straw on the camel's back? Onyeka brought in another woman to the house, and after hiding her from the public for four weeks, he wrote a long pitiful message on social media about how he has been going through pain in his marriage, how his wife was cheating on him, and how he had filed for a divorce because the Lord told him that if he continued with the marriage, Ezinne was going to destroy him and his ministry. And "true! true!" as they would say in pidgin, he filed for a divorce and pushed Ezinne out of his house. Weeks later, he was publicly seen with Bonquicia Laide, not as his PA but as his wife-to-be.

Abomination!

Ezinne was so unfortunate. She didn’t have a choice when her parents died. She felt like God should have communicated with her about who he wanted to take; he would have allowed her to pick one. She didn’t have a choice about who she was going to get married to or the type of life she wanted to live. Nothing. Absolutely nothing!.

A complete tragedy! An Error!

What could she have done? You may say so, but I am definitely not the right person to answer that.

It was a rainy Saturday evening. Hadassah was seated on the couch with a glass of orange juice and biscuits as she stared at her TV screen when she heard a knock on the door. She was so shocked because she hadn’t heard a knock on her door in a long time save for Oga Babatunde, her landlord, and she wasn’t owing. It wasn’t the knock of a visitor; it was more like a plea to come in. On getting to the door, she was greeted with the sight of her greatest nightmare. The monster in her dreams

"Ezinne! I…am sorry". He pleaded.

"Who is Ezinne? She doesn't live here; you are mistaken, please". She snapped.

"Ezinne I know it's you, please!".

THE END.

 Thank you so much for reading.

I love you so much💕

Please come back again.

2023. ASINDI WENDY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.