Princess* (37) had always dreamed of going to culinary school. But after she got married, she loaned the money she had saved up to her husband for his business. Now, almost a decade later, she’s finally pursuing her dream.
This is Princess’s story as told to Itohan
I’ve always enjoyed cooking and baking. Ever since I was a little girl, one of my favourite places to be was the kitchen. While my other sisters grumbled whenever it was time to cook, I enjoyed it. As I got a little older, my mother started letting me work in the kitchen. I loved experimenting with flavours and textures. When I learnt about culinary school, it became my dream to attend. Even if I didn’t use the skills I learnt for anything, I wanted to know more about something I was passionate about. Every spare naira and kobo I had went into my culinary school fund.
When I was 24, I met a man, Uche* when I served as a corper. We ate lunch at the same place, and one day, while I was eating, he sat beside me and we talked. Having lunch together became a regular thing. Eventually, we moved to seeing each other outside of the office. He was decent, funny, and I genuinely enjoyed his company. He always talked about the big dreams, and I told him about my dream to go to culinary school. Whenever we talked about our dreams, his eyes would light up. He once told me it was rare to find women who were as passionate about something as he was. His dream was to open a business. He wasn’t sure what he’d sell, but he was confident he’d make it big someday. I believed him.
Two years after we met and started dating, he proposed. I accepted. A year and some months later, we got married. During that time, he’d left the company we both worked at for a better offer elsewhere. Things were going great. We were even discussing having a child when he told me he planned to quit his job to focus on his business, importing and exporting goods. He was so certain it would work, and I wanted to encourage him however I could. I started making snacks to sell at the office to supplement our income while we waited for his business to take off. Everyone loved the snacks, doughnuts, chin-chin, puff-puff, and more. Some started booking me for church events and children’s birthday parties. I put some of the profit into our household, and the rest went into my culinary school fund, but the fees kept increasing
A few months after he started the business, he came to me with an idea. He said he needed money to bring in some goods and that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I told him I didn’t have much in my personal savings, but he asked if he could borrow the money I had set aside for culinary school. At the time, the money was almost a million. He promised that once he made a profit, he’d personally pay for culinary school. I agreed. I gave him the money.
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The following year, I got pregnant. It was a stressful pregnancy, and it made me tired a lot. Since my husband was now making more money, he encouraged me to quit my job. I didn’t enjoy it anyway, it had always just been a means to an end. I also stopped accepting bulk orders because of how stressed and tired I felt. Luckily, I survived the stressful pregnancy and had a baby boy. The plan was to rest and start culinary school once the baby turned one and I was no longer exclusively breastfeeding. But my husband had different plans. He insisted that we spend more time bonding with our first child and that I should wait at least two and a half years before returning to work. He said it would give him more time to get back the money that he had spent on pregnancy and other expenses. I agreed.
I spent over two years at home taking care of the child. Eventually, I felt better and reached out to my former customers. Some were happy to hear from me, so I started making some savoury snacks; meatpies, sausage rolls, and bread rolls. I made snack boxes for gifting. Most of the money went back into buying ingredients like flour, sugar, and oil, but I was happy to be working again.
When my husband found out, he asked if I’d like to open a shop. I refused. I didn’t want the pressure of daily baking. Plus, I preferred handling orders in batches so I could rest. Besides, once I started culinary school, I’d have time to keep a shop running. He nodded and never brought it up again. A few months later, I got pregnant again.
Honestly, I don’t understand how it happened. I had told him I didn’t want to go through pregnancy again, and we used condoms because every birth control I tried affected me negatively. The pregnancy came as a shock. Our first child was about to turn four, and now I was pregnant with another. Just like before, I slowed down with orders, the pregnancy knocked the wind out of me.
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Throughout the pregnancy, culinary school was all I could think about. On days when the hormones messed with my brain, I reminded myself that where I was going would be better than where I was. After giving birth, my husband once again insisted I stay at home to rest, as culinary school was taxing and I’d need to regain my strength. He wasn’t completely wrong, but raising a child was just as stressful. My strength never fully returned until more than a year later.
One day, I told him enough was enough. If he wasn’t going to enrol me, he should return the money he owed me with interest, so I could register myself. He said he didn’t have the money because he’d just imported a large quantity of goods. He showed me messages with business partners and receipts. I understood, so I waited.
Another two years passed. Still, no culinary school. That Christmas, we hosted a party, and everyone kept asking which caterer we used. When I said I made everything, friends and family kept talking about how great of a cook I was and how I should take a class. I had to excuse myself because I kept crying. That night, I confronted my husband again, tears in my eyes. I reminded him of his promise. He told me culinary school was a waste of money and time, especially as I was almost 40 that women my age should focus on raising children and being good mothers, not some “stupid” class. He added that the money could go into our children’s university education instead. I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing. I felt like I was losing my mind so I excused myself and slept in one of the guest rooms.
The next couple of months, I was miserable. I kept thinking of how I had waited, accepted every excuse about money, pregnancy, health, time, only for him to say that. That’s why I called my sisters. I had kept my marriage issues from them, but at this point, I had nobody else to talk to. I sent a message to our group chat, telling them I needed to see them. That week, we met up at the hotel where our oldest sister was staying. That’s when I told them everything that had happened and why I kept telling them to stop asking me about culinary school. They hugged and comforted me. For the first time in years, I remembered I was someone’s baby too. I had a village behind me. With their help, I could do anything.
The first thing they did was register me in culinary school. The money I’d begged my husband for over the years, they raised it in days and paid in full. They also booked me a spa session because, in their words, “You have tension in your body.” When I got home, I showed my husband my confirmation letter for culinary school. He started shouting, asking where I got the money. He even accused me of having sex for the money. I told him my sisters paid as a gift, and the accusations changed to me undermining him, and that I was telling him he couldn’t take care of me. He kept shouting. I tried to walk past, but he grabbed my hand, pushed me into the chair, and slapped me. That was the first and last time he ever hit me.
I calmly walked to the room, packed a small bag, and went to my sister’s house. He called, but I never picked his call. My sisters picked up my children and moved some of their things out of the house. They also rented an apartment for us while encouraging me to file for a divorce.
I’m 37 now, and I still haven’t gotten around to filing for that divorce, but I’m finally in culinary school. My children love that I come home from classes with tasty snacks they can enjoy, and my sisters are encouraging me to take a pastry class abroad once I’m done here. It took me a while to finally pursue my dreams, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been in this moment. I don’t speak to my husband. Apart from the money he sends for the children, he doesn’t seem interested in being an active participant in their lives. But my sisters, their children, and I try to make up for it as much as we can.
Editor’s Note: The picture and names in this article are not related to the subject in the story
