When Yetunde* (46) discovered that she was pregnant at 21, her marriage was decided almost immediately. But as her husband’s affection turned into resentment, one cruel sentence became the catalyst that changed the trajectory of her life.
This is Yetunde’s story as told to Sofiyah.
My parents are people who stand firmly by their beliefs. They believe that once you make a mistake, you are supposed to own it instead of avoiding it. To them, that’s the only option.
When my youngest sibling failed a class and was expected to repeat it, my parents, despite having the money to prevent that, told him to own up to his failure and repeat the class with grace. That’s how it has always been with them. So, when I got pregnant by my longtime boyfriend and my mum somehow found out by just looking at my face, I wasn’t surprised when they told me to remove all thoughts of abortion from my head and start planning my wedding.
I wasn’t excited about becoming a wife or mother. Yes, my boyfriend, now my husband, and I had been dating for five years, but I was 21. I didn’t think I was ready to transition into that phase of life. My husband hadn’t been interested either, though for different reasons.
When we were still boyfriend and girlfriend, my husband, Ade*, had been the sweetest and most attentive man. He is five years older, but no one, not even my parents, cared much about that because he seemed perfect. He was the standard my friends used to measure other men. I thought our relationship would remain beautiful for a long time. Then I told him my parents’ response to the pregnancy, and I watched him become an entirely different man.
Ade went from visiting me almost every day to completely ignoring me. Whenever I went to his place, he was suddenly never around. When I did see him, he was cold. He began nitpicking everything about me. He criticised the fact that I was still completing my HND and that I was unemployed and financially dependent on my parents.
He said I would become a burden once we got married. He asked whether I was not ashamed of trying to babytrap him because he had money and I did not. Hearing that made my heart drop. Becoming a mother and wife already scared me, but I’d thought that as long as I had Ade, I would be fine. Unfortunately, I was a mumu for thinking that.
I told my parents about his reluctance, hoping they would stop the wedding preparations they’d started with his family. Parents who would rather die than see their child have an abortion do not easily change their minds. They assured me the baby would fix the crumbling relationship and told me not to worry.
I tried to believe them. I really did. But throughout the wedding preparations, which his family forced him into accepting, Ade barely spoke to me unless necessary. On our wedding day, he looked like someone being led to slaughter. That was when I knew the marriage would not be salvaged, yet I tried my best.
When he refused to pay for household expenses, I turned to my parents. When he compared me to the wealthy wives of some of his friends, I blocked it out rather than make it an issue. When mutual friends told me he had made romantic advances toward financially stable women, I thanked them and swept it under the rug rather than confront him. I juggled motherhood, school, and also trying to get my husband to look at me with an expression that didn’t reek of distaste.
It was draining, pleading with your husband to love you. The breaking point came during the biggest fight of our marriage. These days, my memory tends to fail me, but I remember how the fight started. I asked him for money to buy more baby food for our son. I could have asked my parents, as usual, but I didn’t want to keep burdening them. He ignored me. At that point, I was exhausted of everything, so I bluntly asked whether he was deaf. That was when the shouting match started.
I cannot recall all the hurtful words we said, but I will never forget his words when I asked him to respect me as his wife. “You are someone who will never amount to anything. Why should I show respect to you if you aren’t deserving of it?”
The fight drained out of me instantly. I felt numb. I could barely process anything. In that moment, everything made sense. Ade had been dating me to pass the time. I was the naive young girl he had planned to play with before he found the actual love of his life. I had seen the same pattern among his friends.
After that realisation, the anger set in. I wanted to slap myself for tolerating so much. Love can make you accept disrespect, but I wasn’t raised by docile people. My parents had their faults, but they didn’t go wrong in raising strong-spirited children. I decided my greatest revenge would be proving him wrong.
A month after our fight, I managed to snag a secretary job through a friend. It was my first job, and I had to navigate unfamiliar waters, but I didn’t mind that. The money wasn’t a lot, but at least I was making something, and my son and I didn’t have to rely on Ade for crumbs anymore. From there, I continued to build. I asked myself what I truly wanted.
As a child, helping my mother with her clothing business, I’d always known I wanted to be an entrepreneur someday. The question was what to sell. It took months and exploring different options with my friends before I concluded: the jewellery business was the right choice. I was excited about the idea of selling jewellery to people, and immediately, after drawing up a proper business plan, I set to work and started looking for potential investors.
I expected it to take a long time, but it did not. One day, my boss overheard me discussing the idea with a colleague and offered to invest. At first, I thought there was something more to it because I’d seen too many Nollywood movies about inappropriate boss-employee relationships, but he was simply generous. He also mentioned that my being a good employee who always got every work done strengthened his resolve to invest in my business.
From there, it was just good news. I found a reliable supplier, got my first store, and set up my business. Although there were times when it seemed the business would crumble, like when shipments were delayed, I had to go back to asking Ade for money; everything worked out well in the end.
In a matter of years, I went from being a stay-at-home mother with no job to a woman who had a thriving jewellery business. As the years went by, and I got a large influx of customers who appreciated the quality of my jewellery, my store grew from one to two, and by the time Ade and I had our second child, because it was expected of us by our families, I’d already bought my first land.
My success was a big surprise to Ade. I remember when I started my jewellery business, and he would make slightly mocking comments about it because he definitely thought it wouldn’t do well. It was definitely a slap in the face when I told him I was opening a second jewellery store. To this day, my favourite memory would have to be the expression on his face when I told him about the second store. He’d looked constipated and a little bit angry, and it made me so happy to be alive.
It would make sense to divorce Ade. I have amassed enough money and property to ensure that my children and I don’t have to rely on anyone. Ade has been sidelined from a major to a minor character in my life. I no longer feel any affection for him. We just both exist in the house like roommates, only interacting to keep our children from knowing what’s wrong with us. A divorce would be a better option, everyone keeps saying, and I agree with them, but I think I just really like showing off to him. I like it when he sees me and remembers that I am no longer the young woman he said would never amount to anything.
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