I met my ex-husband, Bashir in 2002. I was a young lady of 21 years. Beautiful, smart and very naïve about life. At that time, my life was pretty simple. From school, to hostel, to mosque and rarely social outings. I wanted to be a doctor, the kind that saved lives and helped the distressed. I was not particularly looking for a boyfriend or husband when Bashir crossed my path. My plan then was to finish school, get a job and then start working.
We were friends at first, and then we started becoming close. He tried to always convince me to get married. He started to make me understand that I needed to get married to safeguard my chastity. He was relentless and persistent.
Bashir was from a family that was known for Islamic Scholarship. He was someone that was raised properly and you could tell from just being in a conversation with him. He was polite, calm and considerate. I fell hard. And he followed suit.
We got married in December 2002. 7 months after we first met. I couldn’t be happier.
To be frank with you, we never had any major problems in our marriage. We had the usual growing pains, squabbles about silly things like any other couple. It wasn’t perfect but it wasn’t horrible either. Bashir was my soul mate and he made me feel whole. Even when the children came when I was starting out my career as a doctor, Bashir was always there. When I was on call, he would be home nursing and taking care of the babies. He was my rock. He made me praise God in gratitude every day.
I know what you’re thinking. I am also thinking the same as I write this. What went wrong? Every day I wake up and I ask myself this same question.
3 years ago, my husband started to withdraw from me sexually. He always had one excuse or the other… this was odd to me, considering the fact that we enjoyed a robust and lively intimate life all through our married life. And also because we were both relatively young. After a few months we had a long chatand he revealed to me that it was stress from work. Bashir had built a successful oil marketingbusiness with our filling stations all over the northern states. I didn’t probe further. And I thought nothing of it. Until months became a year…
After a year, I was dumbfounded as to what could possibly be wrong with my husband. I tried all the tricks in the book and all he could do was to give me excuses. Looking back now it seems like the foolish thing to do, but I decided to not probe my husband any further. I decided to be the understanding wife, I let it go. I chose to enjoy the kisses and the hugs and the tender moments of intimacy. I told myself it was a phase and that it would pass soon.
Until last year, when my husband seemed to get out of the drought. He became more loving and soon our intimate life was back to normal, No actually it became better than I remembered.
I told myself, that patience does have rewards. I was proud of myself for sticking through my man during his trying period and now he was back to me. All mine.
Some few months after our lovemaking resumed, I started getting sick a lot. At first I thought I was pregnant and so I didn’t bother myself too much. But then, the doctor in me wouldn’t let me be.
And so I went ahead and did the routine tests. Results were negative, but I was still having weird fevers and then I started noticing lesions around my lady parts.
What I suspected scared me, that I had some sort of Sexually Transmitted Infection or disease. This could only mean one thing…that my husband had infected me.
After some tests at the hospital I was shocked to find out what kind of infection I had. I couldn’t believe that I had an opportunistic infection. That meant my husband had taken bacteria from someone’s rear region and brought it to me. It meant my husband had an affair with some dirty woman. It meant my husband had engaged in anal sex.
I was livid. I was hurt.
I confronted Bashir and we argued for hours because he kept repeating the same line:
“Laila wallahi tallahi I have never been with a woman ever since you became my wife. I have never cheated on you. You are the only one I have ever given my body to.” I was exhausted and I just wanted the truth. The fact that he kept swearing by Allah when he was lying further disappointed and infuriated me.
We lay in bed. Quiet. And then he said to me the words that I will never forget:
“Laila I want you to know that I love you. Please forgive me. Your test result is correct, except that I slept with different men from time to time in the last three years”
I think I was dumbstruck for like 20 minutes before my brain started working again. What had I just heard?
I whispered: InnaLillahi wa Inna Ilaihi Rajiun. So you are telling me you enjoy having sex with men? Are you in a cult? I don’t understand.
Silence.
‘Bashir are you telling me that you are a homosexual?’
‘Laila I realize you are in a lot of pain and confusion right now but that’s no reason for you to talk to me like this. I am not a homosexual.’
‘Then what on earth are you?’
‘I am your husband, I love you but I sometimes like to sleep with men. Laila my darling your husband is not gay’
Silence.
‘I know a place we can get treatment, Laila please let us work through this…for the sake of our love, and for our children, please!’
To get treatment for my infection, I had to visit Bashir’s secret clinic. It was a small house in Maitama,which housed the clinic. Here homosexuals and women who had some type of infection or ailment got treated. I hated every second of it.
Once I got better, the doctors cleared me of HIV, I set about packing up my life.
I asked Bashir for a divorce. I got my divorce. The price I have to pay is to keep his indiscretions secret from the family and my children.
Everyone still wonders why my marriage ended. I wonder too. But I stop myself when I realize what Allah saved me from. A sick man who used me to cover his shameful heinous lifestyle.
I now focus a lot on raising my boys to be upstanding citizens, to be honest men and to be Godfearing. I struggle every day to be strong for them.
It’s been a harrowing ride, but the most important lesson I have learnt is to be patient and to remind myself that this is a test I have to pass. And patience is indeed the only healing balm to my painful experience.
Thank you for reading my Divorce Diaries.
A Special to Jaruma Mgazine Editor in chief: Fadimatu Zahrah
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