Love Life is a Zikoko weekly series about love, relationships, situationships, entanglements and everything in between.
Adenola* (67) and Desola* (55) met at a family event in 1991, after learning about each other from relatives. What started as simple visits and unending questions that felt like interviews soon led them to marriage.
On this week’s Love Life, they talk about the fear and discipline that marked their early years, how Desola found her voice in the marriage, and why, three decades later, they both see their story as a lesson in endurance and change.
What’s your earliest memory of each other?
Adenola: I met Desola at my grandmother’s burial ceremony in 1991. I lived in Lagos and visited our town in Abeokuta during family festivities. On that visit, my mum told me about someone she wanted me to meet. It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to find me a wife, but I listened this time because I hadn’t been successful in Lagos. I wanted a woman who wasn’t overly exposed and wouldn’t challenge my authority as head of the home. I didn’t think I could build a lasting family with the women in Lagos. So, I finally gave in to my mum.
We first met on the day of the burial. It was a hectic day, but we managed to talk and get along. She was prettier than my family described, but more importantly, she seemed reserved and easygoing.
Later, when my mum asked how our conversation went, I told her it was a success. I hadn’t even proposed yet, but I knew she wouldn’t say no. And I was right; here we are today.
Desola: I’d heard about him long before we met. His mum and my aunt were friends, and his mum never missed a chance to talk about him. In fact, I wasn’t the only young woman curious about him in our town. When my aunt finally said he wanted to see me, I felt relieved and excited. It felt like I’d been chosen, and I was eager to move to Lagos. I’d only heard about Lagos, but never visited.
At the burial, he talked about how better life was in Lagos. He also asked if I’d been in a relationship or if I was a virgin, almost like he was auditioning me. I answered truthfully, and I could tell he was satisfied. After he left that day, I knew our story was only just beginning.
So, what happened next?
Adenola: I didn’t have to worry about whether my mum liked her because she already did, so things moved smoothly. I told my mum my intentions, and she passed the message to Desola’s aunt.
After the burial, I returned to Lagos but visited every other week. During those visits, I checked on Desola and spent time with her. I still hadn’t expressly declared my intentions, but my actions spoke louder than words.
Any reason why you didn’t?
Adenola: I didn’t think it was necessary. Back then, if a man visited you and brought gifts for your family, it could only mean one thing. Even her aunt was already calling me her in-law, so it was clear we were headed towards marriage.
Desola: I still wish he had said the words to me. When he visited, he asked endless questions about what I’d been doing and what I planned to do if I moved to Lagos. He never gave me the chance to ask him anything. Still, I knew he was interested. He bought me expensive fabrics and jewellery from Lagos, and I told myself his actions said what his words didn’t.
Fair enough. How did things progress over time?
Adenola: I kept visiting weekly for about two months. I guess you could call that the dating phase. In August — three months after we met — I officially stated my intentions to her family. We had our introduction and got married in October 1991.
Desola: That “dating phase” gave me mixed feelings. Beyond the excitement of moving to Lagos and the gifts he bought, I realised I might not like him as a person. I never felt excited when he visited. Instead, it felt like I was preparing for an exam. He asked constant questions that I felt relieved when he left.
But I couldn’t share that with anyone. His mum already called me iyawo mi (my wife), and my aunt referred to his family as in-laws. Backing out or voicing doubts would’ve disappointed my aunt, who’d been committed to finding me a good husband since my mother passed. For her, putting me in a stable home with a successful man proved she’d honoured her late sister, and she wasn’t about to let me ruin that.
I remember crying on my wedding day; people brushed it off as normal bridal tears. But those tears came from how helpless and unsure I felt. Yes, this man had spoilt me with gifts and stayed consistent, but apart from being a Lagos-based son of my aunty’s friend, I barely knew him. That was scary.
I imagine so. How was it like being newlyweds?
Desola: It was fine at first. I couldn’t move to Lagos immediately after the wedding because he was trying to get into the military and wasn’t sure where we’d end up. He didn’t want me caught in that uncertainty, so I stayed back in our town for a few months. My aunt didn’t like it because it wasn’t normal for a wife to stay with her family after marriage. So, we agreed I’d move in with Adenola’s family until he settled.
Neither of the families loved the arrangement, but I was pleased. It bought me more time. Suddenly, I wasn’t as eager to move to Lagos anymore. I started to appreciate my town, especially since I stayed in his family’s highbrow home. During this time, he still visited weekly. Nothing changed; the routine questions continued, except now we started having sex.
Adenola: First, the years are long, so my memory is foggy, but I don’t think it was as bad as she makes it sound. I asked those questions to keep things lively. Left to her, she would’ve stayed quiet the whole time.
After our wedding, I had to move around a lot, which didn’t leave us much time together. But by March 1992, Desola joined me in Lagos. That was when we truly started living as a couple.
And how was that?
Adenola: I wasn’t the easiest man to deal with. I’ll leave it at that.
Desola: Everything I feared became reality. The Adenola who visited weekly with gifts wasn’t the man I met in Lagos. I hated the city in the first few years. It felt like Lagos itself made him aggressive and impatient. The city was noisy and crowded, people left their houses as early as 5 a.m., and it seemed something chased everyone.
Things weren’t any different in our home. He worked in Ikeja and left home before dawn to beat traffic. I was already pregnant with our first son when I joined him in Lagos, so you can imagine how drained I felt. Yet, there I was, with an impatient man in an impatient city. He’d come home late, barely talk to me, eat, watch TV, and go to bed.
At first, I excused it. He was tired, Lagos was tough, and he was providing for us. But soon, I saw other things. He snapped a lot and insisted I call him “sir.” I couldn’t speak when he spoke, move anything without permission, or make friends he disapproved of.
When I told my aunt, she brushed it off. She said his requests weren’t out of place and reminded me about our 12-year age gap and how I owed him respect. She shut down my complaints.
Months turned into years, and that was how our marriage stayed. He was like the class captain, disciplining everyone around him. It was so bad that he sometimes punished me and the kids. Clearly, he didn’t ask me to kneel like the kids, but he punished me in other ways — holding back my allowance or avoiding me in bed if I disobeyed. Since we’d agreed I’d be a full-time mum, it hurt whenever he withheld money. So I was scared of going against his orders. If Daddy says stay put, we all stayed put.
Wow.
Desola: One of the clearest examples was during our second son’s 5th birthday. Over the years, I realised he behaved better in festive gatherings. He restrained himself and overlooked many things, so I used those moments to my advantage — asking for money, delaying his instructions, even avoiding “sir.” But that day, my luck ran out. He told me to serve his friends, and I said I needed to catch my breath. He stormed over, dragged me up, and unleashed a verbal attack. To avoid a scene, I quickly obeyed.
But he didn’t forgive me for a while. He stopped my allowance, ignored me at home, and even took out his anger on the kids. It took my family begging him before things “returned to normal.” But what was normal? Living in constant fear.
Curious, Adenola. Did you think you were being fair to her and the kids?
Adenola: These issues happened a lifetime ago. I already said I wasn’t easy to live with in those years, and it wasn’t about her. She was, and is still, a good wife who could barely look me in the eye. That was the model of marriage we grew up with. A man gave the rules and decided what could or couldn’t happen. One of my uncles always said, “You’re the king of your own jungle.” And I think that was the problem, the idea that your home is a jungle where you dominate subjects.
It didn’t make me see her as a partner. And the kids? They had no say. The age gap made it worse. I felt that even if she didn’t respect me as a husband, she couldn’t disrespect the years I had over her. In Yoruba, they say, igi imu jina sori ( the nose bridge is far from the forehead). I couldn’t risk feeling disrespected.
Seems to me she revered you from the moment you met.
Adenola: You could say that. But what would’ve happened if I didn’t put my feet down? Back then, Many village girls moved to Lagos and turned on their benefactors. Even now, we hear stories of women abandoning their husbands after moving abroad. I wasn’t going to let that happen with Desola. So I made it clear from the start.
I see. Did you try to leave the marriage at any point, Desola?
Desola: I often thought about leaving the house, but I don’t know if I wanted to leave the marriage. My aunts told me men were like that everywhere. My few friends and I bonded over the same issues in our homes.
Some even had it worse with husbands who beat them constantly. In my case, it wasn’t that extreme. Yes, violent pushes and smacks here and there, but never choking or belts. So I told myself staying with the devil I knew was better.
I started attending prayer groups for women and took his matter to my pastor. At some point, I filled the house with bottles of prayer water blessed for me and even served him meals with them. If I couldn’t fight physically, maybe God would fight for me.
So did praying work?
Desola: I believe it did. God is good all the time. But outside the church, I realised I had been too timid, which had to change. It didn’t make sense that the kids feared their dad, and I, their mother, feared him too.
As much as I was fighting the spiritual battle, I knew I had to fight the physical one.
The first big step was getting a job.
We’d agreed I’d be a full-time mum, but I started something of my own when the kids entered junior secondary school. I didn’t ask him for capital. I scraped from my allowance and began travelling to Cotonou to shop for textiles. Cutting financial dependency gave me a voice.
Neat. How did you take the change, Adenola?
Adenola: The Adenola she married in 1991 would have thought I was losing her to Lagos, but the Adenola of that time was different. Aging comes with patience and understanding. By then, I’d become a different person. Don’t get me wrong — I was, and still am, a disciplinarian, but I’d calmed down. When she made the first trip to Cotonou, I felt more amazed than angry. First, she used her own capital. Second, she didn’t ask permission. Her timid nature had made it easy for me to go unchecked. But once she stood her ground, I adjusted.
So the change was very welcome; I’m grateful for it. That same business funded the children’s university education. I even invested when I saw she was doing well. She can’t say I didn’t support her when she needed it.
Right. I’m curious, though, what’s the bond with your children like?
Adenola: They know I’m their father. And they know Daddy is a disciplinarian. I think the relationship is as good as it can get. I love them dearly, but it doesn’t mean they wouldn’t get some good rebuking if they do the wrong things. That hasn’t changed to date.
Desola: The first two saw the hardest side of him. By the time our third was born, he’d softened.
Still, the kids always come to me first before they go to their father. Even now, as adults, the fear and respect is still there. What matters above all is understanding that beneath the tough exterior is a father who cares and shows up for them.
It’s been over three decades together. What would you say is the best thing about being together?
Adenola: We’ve weathered so much together as a couple. I’ve never imagined doing life with anyone else. She’s seen me at my best and worst, and stayed. I’ve done the same for her. That shows how dedicated we are. In this life, we are meant for each other.
Desola: I agree. I’m happy I stayed long enough to see this version of our marriage. I’ve always believed that marriage has different phases, and this current one is beautiful. He’s kinder, more patient, and not half the disciplinarian he was. I see him with our grandkids and remember how our children scattered whenever he came home. He won’t admit it, but he’s softer now.
How would you rate your love life on a scale of 1-10?
Desola: I’d give us a 7. We’re still here together despite everything. And we aren’t going anywhere.
Adenola: She’s said it all, but I’ll give us 8.5.
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
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