PHOTO CREDIT: THE FRANKLINS

In primary school, at a time I was the class prefect. I had an “almost” long list of duties that I enjoyed, of which the unforgettable and most interesting ones were cleaning the blackboard and writing boldly with a white chalk “VERNACULAR IN THIS CLASS IS HIGHLY PROHIBITED!!!” This implies that anyone who doesn’t comply with “rule” of speaking English Language will be penalised. I only had to write down their names and watch them carry out their sanctions and there were cases I was at the other end having a taste of the sanctions as the “rule breaker”. English was the only acceptable language in the classroom but we took it outside the classroom and tagged Igbo speakers “local”.

…maybe it was beyond jealousy, for on the exact day my pregnancy clocked seven months. I had argued with him for continuously coming back late at night. I had to know what kept him outside that late but he replied with series of hits and slaps.

It was an unpleasant experience.

I have watched women being bullied; I never thought it would be me someday. Also, I have watched bullied women stand up and fight back for themselves. Well, this I did! Anger got the best of me, more like it bundled me with all of it and left me to explode. I flared up, hitting Jerry’s chest as hard as I could. Holding my hands together with his large palm, he flung me to the sofa and made his way to the door. I stood up and challenged him; “Don’t even think of stepping a foot out of this house…