My name is Malam Musa Halilu, I am 28 years old and a
businessman. I would like to share my divorce diaries with you. I was
married to my ex wife Murja Halilu for a year and 10 months, this is my
story.I met Murja at a fish farming workshop. We became quick friends.
She was funny and engaging and full of life. She was a happy person,
like those people you know who are constantly bouncy and chatty there
was never a dull moment with her.We became quite close and because she was just 3 years younger than me we had similar experiences and interests. I never thought of marrying Murja. I just liked her as a friend at first. But it was hard to remain her friend as we became closer. We became very close confidants. Soon we were spending a lot of time together. Once I close from work, I spent all my free time with her. At the time I started developing feelings for Murja, she had one silly chewing gum boyfriend like that. He was always up to no good. Gaddafi was his name. She always told me of her love for him and the endless drama he made her endure. I was becoming uncomfortable because I had feelings for her and she was busy entertaining a fool.
For a year I stayed in the friend zone consoling her and hoping she would notice my love. It wasn’t easy my people. That was a long year. But as the old adage goes, the patient dog gets the fattest bone. Soon Murja started calling me sweetheart, she started giving me compliments and praising me. I was slowly creeping out of the friend zone. Success at last! One day we were having lunch at tulip and she asked me if I had thought of being someone’s husband. I was puzzled by the question. I thought about marriage but it wasn’t a priority for me at that point in time. It was something I wanted to do in my late 30s. She seemed hurt by my answer and I felt bad. Murja remained quiet for the rest of the afternoon, so the next day, a Sunday she asked me if I would be a husband to a girl like her.
I said yes, It seemed to lift her spirits. I took her demeanor as a signal that Gaddafi was gone from our lives and she would soon be mine all mine. We started dating, 6 months later she told me she wanted us to get married. I couldn’t say no. And we had an elaborate wedding Masha Allah. You can’t imagine how elated I felt. From friend zone to husband,I felt like I had won gold medals at the Olympics. Little did I know my life was about to turn completely upside down!
Very early on Murja and I started fighting. She had a problem with everything I did. The way I brushed my teeth to the way I watched TV. Things got really bad when she wouldn’t stop talking to her friends on the phone. Starving me of her attention and care. She would be on the phone as soon I got back home from work and continue ignoring me till dawn. I was frustrated.When I found out that it was Gaddafi she had been talking to on the phone and not her friends, I was livid. I was so angry I lost control and slapped her,something I immediately regretted. I started to explain but she ran out of the house. I knew she was going to report me to either my parents or hers. I drove straight to my father’s house,I had to do damage control.
Murja was the only daughter and the apple of her father’s eye. If she went to him first then I was in hot soup! My heart was racing, I went to my father’s house and thankfully Murja was there. Wailing in my mother’s room. I said Salam and entered… My mother answered me coldly. She hissed and gave me a look that made me instantly want to just die. She said: “Ashe Dama kai mutumin banza me ban sani ba. How can you hit your pregnant wife? “And with that a hot slap landed on my face. I was dazed and ashamed of myself at the same time. Dazed because I did not know my wife was pregnant,ashamed for disappointing my mum.My mother proceeded to give me an earful after which she said she wouldn’t allow Murja come home until I convinced her I was stable.I hung around the house hoping that my father would take my side and release my wife to me. But alas he agreed with my mother. So, for 4 days my parents pampered Murja while I languished in guilt and agony. I had learnt my lesson well. I went to beg them. I promised myself never to lose my temper with Murja again. I would do my best to take care of her and the baby and I forgave all.
So my wife and baby were released to me and I doubled my efforts to be a good husband. Maybe that would make her forget Gaddafi,I was dead wrong. Murja not only continued her phone calls, she became belligerent. I calmly tolerate all her behavior because of the baby. I didn’t want to give in to her hormonal impulses. The last straw that broke the camel’s back came when in the last trimester of the pregnancy, Gaddafi called me. He told me to go and ask my wife who the father of her child was. I started insulting him and I was shocked to my bone marrow when he said: “I have been sleeping with her, I slept with her even a day before your wedding Fatiha so you can’t tell me anything. You are the loser here Malam””As a fellow Muslim I just want to tell you now because I am ready to keep fighting you till you divorce Murja to me,ka gane go?” So I had been a fool. Murja just used me and took advantage of my love for her. All I could say was WOW!!. Oh Allah what sort of mess had I gotten myself into? what was I going to do? I called Murja to tell her what happened between Gaddafi and I and to my surprise she laughed. She actually laughed at me.
She told me that I was using cheap tricks to blackmail her into leaving the marriage. I was confused! How was this my fault? By the time I got home, Murja was gone. I refused to follow her and do biko. I needed some time to think clearly. After a week, my father and I went to meet her parents. We were received like a ton of cowdung, with disdain. I am still not sure to this day what Murja told her parents, but they insisted on me writing a divorce there and then. My father reminded them of Gaddafi’s allegations and also that we were there don a yi sulhu, not to fight. This fell on deaf ears. To make matters worse, her mother came to the living room and started shouting and yelling for her daughter to be divorced. The two months before Murja gave birth was like 50 years. I resolved to do a DNA test as soon as she gave birth. Can you imagine? No one bothered to even tell me Murja had given birth! I heard on the day of the suna. It was a girl. They named her Farida without me! It took me another 6 months to get them to release the baby for the DNA test. And Alhamdulillah Farida turned out to be mine. I issued her one divorce with so much pain, anger and bitterness in my heart. I see my daughter twice a month now, she’s one and she just started walking! I’m a proud father. .I still struggle to sometimes believe that Farida is mine. I am contemplating doing another DNA test when she turns three. As for Murja, she has moved to Kano and left Farida with her mother. I hear Gaddafi is still her man. I won’t say I wish them well. As for me, I doubt if I will ever be close to a woman again or even remarry. I will never forgive Murja. Allah will judge. Thank you for sharing my #DivorceDiaries. I hope you will learn a few lessons from my experience.
Add 08066680993 on whatsapp for update on next Episode
Credits to Jaruma Magazine Editor Fadimatu Zahra @jarumamagazine
Remember to check in tomorrow same time 7pm for new episode
Previous Episode if you miss it Episode 6
No comments:
Post a Comment