For most of her life, Sekinah* (51) believed marriage was the key to fulfilment. Two deeply traumatic unions later, she learned the hard way to create her own happiness.
On this week’s episode, Sekinah* opens up about her dating history and why she’s made peace with walking through life alone.
What’s your current relationship status, and how do you feel about it?
I’m single. I never imagined the happiest phase of my life would come after two failed marriages, but here I am.
That’s great to hear. How did you get to this point?
My first real relationship started in 1999, after university. I was very religious and conservative in school, so I never dated. After graduation, I started feeling pressured because my mates were getting into relationships and marriages, and I felt left behind.
While preparing for my NYSC passing out parade, I met Abdul*. I’d gone to my posting area for the last time and was trying to get a cab during heavy traffic. He stopped and offered me a ride home. He seemed kind, responsible. Because it was late, he even followed me in to explain why I’d shown up with him by that time. I developed a crush immediately.
Cute. How did things progress from there?
He started visiting often and eventually said he planned to marry me. I was over the moon. We barely knew each other for seven months before he proposed. My family agreed, and we got married in July 2000.
But once I moved in, I realised I had married a stranger. He drank heavily and often disappeared for hours. Barely days after our wedding, he slapped me so hard I fell on a chair because I complained about his behaviour. That was only the beginning.
Anytime we argued, he beat me, sometimes for no reason at all.
That must have been terrifying. How did you cope?
I lived in constant fear and depression. I hoped getting a job would help my situation, but even that gave him more reason to hit me. If I wasn’t home by 4 p.m., he accused me of wandering around. I was also trying to conceive at the time, and every failed attempt deepened my frustration and sadness.
When I reported him to my family, they told me to handle him more wisely since I was already married. Even our religious leaders I ran to, advised me to endure. Whenever they confronted him, he came home and beat me even more. I felt completely trapped.
Sounds tough. Did you try to leave?
An incident with a male colleague in February 2002 pushed me over the edge. The guy dropped me off at home because I was running late. Abdul heard from the gateman and accused me of bringing men to his house. He beat me so badly that he pierced my arm with a broken louvre. Thankfully, our neighbours intervened. That night, I ran away and never returned.
I went back to my uncle and told them I was done with the marriage.
How did they take it?
My uncle and his wife supported me. They refused Abdul’s attempts to bring me back and said it was good I left before he killed me. His parents insulted me and took his side, but I was just glad to be free.
However, living with my family again soon became suffocating. They kept asking what was next and introduced me to men they thought were suitable, not realising I was still traumatised. After a year, I saved enough to move out.
For the first time in my life, I enjoyed my freedom. I met men casually and had fun, but people judged me. My married friends distanced themselves. One even cut me off because her husband said I was a bad influence on her. Slowly, I became a loner.
Meanwhile, everyone around me was starting families. I pretended not to care, but at night, I cried. The loneliness was overwhelming.
I’m sorry. Did you eventually try to date again?
I did. I met Wahab* in 2006 through one of his friends. He was married but said he wanted me as a second wife. He spent a lot of time at my place, and I already felt like his wife. I convinced myself that if I stayed with him, he’d eventually marry me.
But after two years together, he suddenly married a young girl who’d just finished school. He met her while he was still with me. Shortly after he told me about his new marriage, he stopped picking my calls and ghosted me.
That must’ve hurt.
I thought my life was over. I couldn’t believe I was in my mid-30s, divorced, childless, and unwanted. Depression slowly crept in again. Eventually, I forced myself to focus on work and took in some of my siblings’ children. Caring for them helped ease the loneliness.
I didn’t expect to date again, but in 2010, a friend introduced me to James*. He was a retired widower with grown children, and he seemed genuinely kind in a way I hadn’t experienced in years. We maintained a long-distance relationship for over a year before having a quiet court wedding in 2012.
Were things any better with James?
Barely. He was manipulative and treated me like his personal cash cow. Though he presented himself as financially secure, he’d squandered his retirement funds and contributed nothing to the household. I bought the food, paid the bills, and ran the entire household while he entertained friends.
His children added to my stress. Whenever they visited, they were rude and treated me like a maid. They left dirty plates everywhere and expected me to clean up. When I complained, he told me to understand them and treat them as my children.
I desperately wanted a child of my own, but even after two IVF cycles, it didn’t happen. Still, I stayed with him for more than nine years.
That sounds like a lot of time to stay in an unhappy marriage. Why didn’t you leave?
I was ashamed. I felt foolish for walking into another bad marriage. How would I explain two divorces? My family would judge me, and everyone would assume I was the problem. So I pretended everything was fine.
What ultimately led me to leave happened a few days before Christmas in 2021. I intentionally refused to cook because I was exhausted. When my husband’s grown son came into the kitchen and didn’t find food, he dragged me by my clothes and threatened to beat me. James sat there watching. When I asked him to defend me, he blamed me for not cooking. In that moment, I realised he’d never have my back.
I packed my things quietly and told him I was travelling home for the new year. As soon as I got home, I asked for a divorce. He begged, but I was done.
It’s been three years since I walked away, and I’m glad I did. I eventually stopped mourning my childlessness and adopted a young girl, and took in some of my nieces. I feel fulfilled living this way, even though I never thought I would.
Nice. How have all these experiences shaped your idea of love and relationships?
You don’t need marriage to be happy. Our society treats marriage as a way to control women, not a partnership. While it works for some, I’ve decided marriage is off the table for me. I wish younger women would stop rushing. If I hadn’t pressured myself into marriage early, I might have avoided so much pain.
Finally, how are the streets treating you these days? Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10.
10/10. I feel fresher and lighter. I have my peace, and no one is draining me emotionally or financially.
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