Read their chats below:
He was a nice man, good looking and a church go-er, he was loyal to god as much as he was his wife Ann-Marie. He’s tall, around about 6’2 I’d say, not much meat on his bones but well looked after whether it was by himself or his wife. Tint of dark in his skin and bright green eyes, I could see why Ann-Marie loved him, but his looks wasn’t just who defined him, he would always have a glowing smile that would stand out in the crowd, his voice was one the angels loved to listen to, never a violent side to him, never a bad look in his face.
What made him do it?
Ann-Marie was slightly younger, the 24 year old who always dressed appropriately and was proud to show off her perfect man, every Sunday morning they would walk in to church together, holding hands… smiling and welcoming everyone they walked by, never a day went by that they didn’t show up to church.
On September the 12th 1984, He had turned up to church without his woman at his side, just him, himself and god. Many people fussed around him, “how is your wife?” He was questioned a few times, “she is good, resting at home” he would reply, everyone quickly become suspicious but not long after we was to find out… there was to be a congratulations in order, when Ann-Marie was back on his side but her stomach was much more slightly bloated, straight away people raced over to them both with glowing smiles, some didn’t approve but the ones that did fluttered them with happiness.
“Meeting the murderer” you wouldn’t think it right? You’d expect a jobless man with nothing to loose but him, he had everything to loose.
Months went by and Ann-Marie got bigger, they had broke the news of expecting their baby girl by the begging of June, although it was March and she was getting bigger and having the pregnancy struggles, she still always shown her face in the church. Since we found out, the priest would always have us sing along to a personal good luck song, ensuring our song was heard with the angels and their baby will grow stronger each day. She was looking really good, they started to look a bit more distant but I suppose that is simply what having a baby does. Having a baby plays with your emotions and the way you feel, it’s life and it’s a life growing inside of you which makes it worth it but I don’t think he understood this when she told him she was leaving.
Anger flustered through his mind, he felt overpowered by the woman carrying his daughter, he rang the emergency number, “I’ve stabbed my wife 17 times! She’s lay head on the kitchen floor.” He handed himself in before racing to the kitchen and killing her by stabbing her 17 times like he said. The police later turned up
Weeks went by, it was his trail date, he had admitted to everything and will more than likely plead guilt to murdering his wife and unborn baby. But his solicitor has other plans rather than jail. “I murdered my wife, god has yet to forgive me” head line news all over the paper, will his faith in god let him be a free man?
No he wasn’t a free man, at least not for 18 months he wasn’t. A reduced sentence for the heart felt man he was, his loyalty to god and his guilty plead. Even in prison he never missed a day of praying… did he actually make a mistake? Will god forgive such a violent crime and will he ever forgive himself?
18 months passed, he was back out, his first mission was to go to his community church and ask the community for forgiveness. Many turned him down but many accepted, “thou shalt not kill… but thou shall give forgiveness when asked” the priest responded before shaking his hand, “welcome back, Darius” he welcomed before walking through to the front of the church where the priest then repeated loudly, “thou shall give forgiveness when asked” most clapped and agreed but others had over opinions, “thou shall not covet” a voice shallowly but confidently shouted from the other side of the church, low silence claps of agreements follow.
Months went on and the ones who didn’t forgive started to accept he is a member of their community and he does have the same love for god as they share. He was welcomed to sit where he pleased without the funny looks and the quiet judging, he felt normal again but obviously his wife and child wasn’t there, but that is something he is to live with for the rest of his life.
Years went on, all had been forgotten until one day, he was welcomed into a church holding the hand of a new loved one, her children followed behind them. She introduced herself, “Janet” to everyone to welcomed her, not a word of Ann-Marie was spoken but did she know she was allowing a murderer into her life?
In what will across as a really heartbreaking development, a woman has thrown her own stepson inside a well with his legs and hands tied.
It was a classic case of misplaced aggression, of taking the ‘sins’ of the mother out on her innocent son. And, on a four-year-old child, for that matter, who knows next to nothing! And, to imagine that she saw the warning sign early enough but did nothing to save her poor son from the fate that later befell him? That thought is threatening to drown her traumatised mother’s spirit in further despondency.
It must have made a shocking read when the news of the gruesome murder of four-year-old Ritse Micah was broken in Saturday Sun edition of July 13, 2019. The lad, reportedly taken from his sleep on the night of Thursday, June 27, 2019, at Garagu, Kokona Local Government Area of Nasarawa State, was dumped, with his legs and hands tied, into a well in Akwanga Local Government Area of the state. That was the state in which his body was found the following day.
Now, here is more shocking news for the reader: written confession by Mrs Grace Jacob Maisamari, stepmother to the late boy’s mother, has shown that she was the one that masterminded the evil act. And, she did that not because there was anything amiss between him and the boy but simply because there was no love lost between her and his mother. Never has misplaced anger come couched in such heartless act!
How the evil deed was done
The late Ritse is the son of the daughter of the first wife to her husband, Micah Kapechi. She died many years ago after having two children for the man. Her second daughter, Miracle Micah, is the mother of the late boy said to be a love child.
It was after the death of their mother that their father decided to marry Grace who is now cooling her feet at the criminal investigation department of the Nigerian Police headquarters in Lafia after admitting complicity in the death of the boy.
That was after devilish ideas began to fly into her head on how to cause heartbreak and maximum sorrow for his mother with whom she is in no good terms. She confessed that on that fateful day, she had pretended to travel very early to Garaku from Akwanga without her husband’s knowledge or consent but she actually hid somewhere till evening. And when she noticed her husband go out with the boy to deliver a message, she quietly used her own key to open the house without anybody noticing her presence and hid somewhere in the room he usually sleeps.
Shortly afterward, her husband walked in and prepared him for sleep. But when she noticed that he had gone to his room to sleep, she quickly came out of her hiding, grabbed the boy who was deep asleep and headed to Akwanga that night, by a pre-arranged vehicle.
In Akwanga, she tied his legs and hands and threw him alive into a deep well where he died from hypoxemia. What was his offence? The woman confessed that she had no problem with Ritse. He is innocent, she admits, but her grudge is with his mother who has been rude to her since she got married to her father. “I decided to kill the innocent boy due to the attitude of his mother,” she said.
Self-justification and guilt over the murder
However, after carrying out the deed, her heartless ego came under constant haunt of guilt. Her words: “After killing the boy, it dawned on me that I took the matter too far. I was restless but my anger against his mother’s attitude could not stop it from happening. Initially, I felt fulfilled and normal. I slept that night after the incident but the consequence of my action became clear after I was picked up by the police. I felt cold for the first time.”
Destiny appears to have played a wicked one on me at the early stage, she insists, “but I would rededicate the rest of my life to sincerely seek forgiveness. I don’t know what came over me but the mother of this boy is the major problem in my marriage. She has stolen my joy since I got married to her father, it has been from one problem to another,” she lamented. But she would not go into detail on the nature of the so-called “major problem in her marriage” caused by the boy’s mother that could have warranted or justified her to carry out the evil act.
When our correspondent spoke with Miracle, the mother of the late Ritse who have just finished her examinations at the state university in Keffi, he found her inconsolable over her son’s death. According to her, she felt that something bad had happened when she started having some strange feelings she couldn’t explain.
“I was in school,” she said. “My heart was beating. It wasn’t okay with my spirit. So after my exams, I put a call to my father. On picking the call, we exchange greetings and he said we need to talk and he cut the call. After a short while, I called back and he said it was not something we can discuss on phone. He said I should come home. So I prepared and came down to Garaku from Keffi where I am schooling. On getting to my father’s house, some neighbours’ children welcomed me with the sad news of the death of my son.”
The 300 level Sociology student said she could not hold back tears. For several hours, she wept while raining curses on whoever killed her innocent and promising son.
“My son doesn’t deserve such brutality at the age of 4,” she said as she broke into tears again. “He is too innocent for any right thinking person to tie his legs and hands and dump him in the well till he died.” She eventually resigned herself to fate. “I leave everything to God,” she said. “That person will never see peace in his or her life.”
The early warning signs ignored
For the traumatised woman, the warning sign had been there all along, it’s unfortunate that she did not pay any attention until it was too late. She reported that her stepmother’s plan to get rid of her child started a long time ago. She recalled an incident that occurred last year in which her late son suddenly got missing from the house. But he was later found by a riverbank and returned home by a farmer the following morning.
She recalled how it all happened: “I went to buy some things for his school and he asked me to buy him bobo drink. But on getting home, he was nowhere to be found. We searched all around but to no avail, so we resigned ourselves to fate that night. We later reported the case to the police. But thank God, the following morning the boy was found at a river bank by a good farmer and brought back home.”
She said that few days after, her late son told her that it was her stepmother (Grace) that took him to the riverside and threw him there to die. “When my father came back from work, I told him, but he said it was a weighty allegation, adding that he didn’t want any trouble. He asked me to keep mute over the issue. But I told my brother about it.”
From all indications the issue that generated mutual hatred between the boy’s mother and the killer stepmother as to lead to the innocent child’s death, appears to be a longstanding one. “My mother died in 2002 and my father married my stepmother in 2004,” she said. “But since she came, we have no peace in this house. She chased away all my father’s friends and relations. In this area, she is at war with everybody. He chased away all tenants from our house.”
In as much as Miracle finds her stepmother’s heartless act surprising and unbelievable, she regrets not doing something to save the situation when she perceived the early warning signs. Ruminating on Grace’s character and on incident, she said: “there was never a good testimony about her. At a point, I wanted to take my son somewhere to school but my father prevailed on me to leave the boy here. I wanted to take him away because anytime I came home from school, neighbours would tell me about the maltreatments she subjects my son to. Severally, I complained to my father but he loves his wife and equally loves my late son. Therefore there was nothing I could do. He doesn’t want his grandson taken away from him. He always said he doesn’t want the boy to stay away. But now the evil person has taken him away and killed him.”
What is love? I met a man in a store. I worked in the store. He didn’t. He was a customer. I didn’t know his name. He sent a dozen roses with a card asking me on a date. I inquired of co-workers to find out who the mystery man was. Oh, he was so old my parents would never allow me to date him. I was seventeen, weeks away from eighteen. He was twenty-four.
To this day I don’t know how he did it. He talked my parents into allowing us to go on a short, three-hour date to a local restaurant. We went on a Saturday night.
The next Friday night we went to a movie at a theatre next door to the store where I worked. My parents owned the store. We were asked to leave the movie because we were talking to each other non-stop.
That crazy man asked me to marry him the very next day and the day after that I said “yes”! The crazy man showed up at my high school to give me a dozen roses and my engagement ring.
Three weeks later we married on Thanksgiving Day. We chose the date because I would be on school break. I moved into his garage apartment. It was so tiny. Too tiny! It was the size of a single car garage!
Two weeks after we married, my husband’s employer filed for bankruptcy and he lost his job. We scraped by. He took odd jobs and worked towards obtaining his Master plumber’s license.
By early March, I was pregnant. By September, we were parents to a very preemie little boy. The following week, my husband started his own plumbing business. We were so very broke.
I found a decent job as a bookkeeper and we moved to a rent-to-own-house.
Eighteen months later our daughter was born, and I had a hysterectomy. I was twenty. Two months after her birth, my husband broke his upper left arm in half. Two surgeries later and with a mountain of medical bills, we had to forsake our home and we moved to an abandoned, bank-owned, partially constructed home on three acres. It was barely livable. The idea was we would fix up the house a little at a time. It was a low point.
I found a better job and my husband healed and we put money into getting the house fixed up. Heirs to the thirty acres surrounding our house approached us to see if we wanted to purchase the land. We did.
I walked on the campus of a community college and began what would be an eight-year journey of night classes to obtain my accounting degree. I worked, attended classes, studied, parented, and barely slept and learned to let go of keeping a perfectly clean house. Sleep was more important.
College was interrupted for a bout with ovarian cancer. I was fortunate. It was caught early enough.
Sixteen years into our marriage, I was a college graduate and CPA and our children were in their teens! Now we had two kids to get through college. Staying on a strict budget, and with the help of academic scholarships, they earned their degrees.
On a balmy March day, in the year 2010, my husband and I peeped in to see our daughter and son-in-law. Labor had been induced. Our daughter had received an epidural and was relaxed and in early labor. We waited with the other grandparents in the waiting area. It was just the four of us waiting when we heard codes/alarms blaring and all the hospital staff on the floor running and I do mean running! We parents, soon-to-be grandparents, tried to run after the hospital bed being pushed as fast as it could go down the hallway of the hospital. Our son-in-law turned for just a second. The baby’s heartbeat had stopped, he said….
At that moment, I looked in the eyes of the man I had then been married to for twenty-nine years. In an instant, every moment of joy and sorrow, of sickness and health, of richer or poorer, passed between us.
I look back on that day and know this. Love starts small with a feeling of emotion and attraction. Love grows through the sharing of the ebb and flow of life. To give up on it too soon, is to give up on the treasure of looking into the eyes of a man or a woman whose shared your life with you. There is no replacement for the love that builds with time.
It was exactly 11:12 am when the hospital bed was hurried down the hallway. We four grandparents prayed. We would learn the umbilical cord was wrapped around our grandson and had caused his heart to stop.
In an eternity lasting minutes, we waited, then our son-in-law sent a text of our daughter holding our grandson. Our grandson was born at 11:22 am. Our anniversary is 11/22. That’s a good number.
Not every marriage is sustainable. We have had our share of fights and twice were on the brink of divorce. I am glad we didn’t give up.
Today, the first grandson will soon be nine and his younger brother is five.
We’ve been blessed to have moved from poverty to financial stability and to have survived and thrived after medical scares and to have each other.
I married a man I met at a store. We live in a farm house in the middle of thirty-three acres.
“If you are not going to be a girlfriend and wife, who is submissive, who follows the lead of a husband, then we got to deal with this now, because no wife of mine will rule my house, give me orders or go to a separate church from mine!”, said Tendai fuming, his voice was shaking from anger, l could see he was totally charged up and no longer caring to select his choice of words.
I was also fed up myself, and l retorted angrily, “fine, if you want me to be that kind of a wife and fiancée, then to hell with it, what are we even doing now? Let’s not waste each other’s time anymore. Have a great life”. I slammed his car door nice and hard as l climbed out and walked away into the dark.
So how did things get so messy?
Tendai and I had fallen in love with each other a year ago, he was all l ever wanted in a guy, ‘at first’ and l was his dream girlfriend too. Both of us at the age of 28 just thought this definitely was it. The search for true love was over.
With time there emerged those nitty-gritty human imperfections. Tendai is traditional, old school and reserved on the other hand l am less cultural and a newly emerging activist for feminism and gender equality. He is the type that prefers to not touch alcohol, deems it unclean for his soul, he prefers the traditional kind of music, and he loves spending his days chilled, watching movies or visiting family and friends. It made me look like l was the wild one, so eager to try anything and everything, ready to live, never content with sleeping before 11 pm on a weekend, and definitely never one to repeat the same activities over and over again.
So as expected in such cases, we started getting into each other’s nerves. He began to think l was too independent, l had no respect for tradition and that l could just not make a good wife for him, but this was never said out aloud. I began to find him quite boring, and just not fun to hang with. But none of us could audibly say it out. We had just come a long way to quit because of what we thought to be a few indifferences.
In my culture, men pay lobola to show respect to the bride’s family and say thank you for raising your daughter well. The culture sort of sells women under the guise of culture. Lobola can be 15 cows including other cultural things that a guy must pay up, not to mention that after the lobola the guy must sponsor the white wedding ceremony as well. The bride’s family demands the amount of lobola they want, and the amount can even add up to 15000 us dollars, which is a 2-year saving for a typical middle-class guy who has decided to forgo buying a house, a car, and a decent living style. Lately, families have become overly greedy and are demanding alarming lobola prices. The fathers of the bride use the lobola to buy things like a fancy car or spend the money getting drunk. And in turn the bride has to leave her family, her religion, her lifestyle, her surname and almost everything else important is foregone by the lady as she follows her husband. It becomes the duty of the wife to clean, cook, take care of the husband and kids, as well as to get formerly employed somewhere and contribute to the new family income. If lobola was truly a cultural way of appreciating a partner l do not see why both partners cannot give lobola to the spouse’s family, or why a guy cannot give out what he has, but instead must toil for years to get to afford a wife.
And as you can imagine, l being a feminist, who realizes there is something seriously wrong with this culture from as early as 11 was totally ready to rebel. And certainly not prepared to be sold off, so l tried reasoning with the love of my life.
We were sitting in Tendai’s car, he was preparing to drive me home, after we had spent the day in the park, doing what we usually do, ‘Chilling’ in the relaxed way he likes. And poor I got bored; there was nothing new to say, no interesting conversation about the latest movie, or the hit song on the market. Just family talk about how we would chill like this, during the weekends once we were married.
Sol blurted out, “Tendi, love brought us together, l love you dearly, but there are a few things we should change love. For starts l would love to keep going to my church, l like it there, and l would love for you to take care of your siblings, but the family culture of a newly wedded couple living under the same roof with family relatives just takes the vibe off honeymoon phase, we can always share, but l prefer staying with you only and my kids, unless we really have to take in someone in need. Can we do that?
Tendai’s eyes grew big, as if they were gonna pop out of their sockets, all he could mutter was “whaaaaat?” Since l had kept this buried for so long in my heart, l thought, ah why not just let it all out, after all, he is my boyfriend, he is bound to see things more from my perspective if l explain well.
“Yes Tendai, l think women’s positions in the house are a bit unfair too, for instance a man gets to come back from work, sits at home, and watches tv whilst the lady who has also come back from a long day at work, breaks her back to cook, wash and do dishes as well as take care of the kids. It sounds more like slavery rather than marriage. I hope when we are married we can share tasks according to everyone’s capabilities, it would make married life easier for me love”.
Tendai looked at me long and hard, with clear bewilderment in his eyes. “Love a woman should be a woman, know your place, and know that it will always be behind me, your boyfriend and future husband, l will be the head of the family, l will make the final decisions, you will be my wife, what is the purpose of a wife? Is it not taking care of the husband? Talk to your mother, talk to your church elders, talk to anyone and they will tell you the same! The husband leads, the wife follows. Equal rights are there, but just not on this!” He ended, fuming with fury.
I guess in his mind he was thinking, oh this gal, what nonsense is this, women are women, and they should remain women. That was the moment when l finally opened up my eyes to the truth l had refused to see all the time; nothing was going to change in this relationship. Not me and certainly not Tendai. It was my purpose to actively campaign for women’s rights. So l took my leave from the car that had become stuffy and tension-filled from the heated argument.
This is the issue that has brought about the end of our so-called love to where we are right now, bitterness, regrets, anger, and anger.
We both think we are right; we both want the other to see how they are the ones who are wrong. And above all, no one wants to compromise.
I take a taxi, and head home, with deep sorrow inside of me, hoping someday, the society will see life in the eyes of a woman because for now, life is just far from being fair where men and women are concerned. I don’t blame Tendai though; he was born in this world, where culture and tradition plays a major role in people’s lives, even if the culture clearly weakens another party and gives the other all the power. It’s the way it is, and everyone has a choice, to do away with the bad culture, or keep it alive and running for the next generation to copy.
But l know my stand on point.
I’m here to narrate a story of a women who is a victim of violence. Are parents itself enemies to a women?
A poor parents gave birth to 9 children. Now,our story revolves around the 5th person. During her childhood she was not that pampered, only because of her looks. She was given less importance among the 9 children. She was sent to a government school where others to private. Her father thought that investing on her would not bring any profit. Her mom was also not that caring.
She was graduated with a B.com degree, still she wasn’t happy because no one was there to appreciate her success. She spent a lot sleepless nights and filled with depression. Later on when she was at the age of 21, she wanted to marry a person who understands her. According to her faith, she has to face problems because of her husband too.
She got married on 22-03-2018 and it is a dark day for her. Her parents were in search of selecting a groom for her as soon as she was graduated. She never gave a thought of marrying a handsome guy but she wished to marry a person who understands and respects her.
During her matchmaking process, her father got a call by the priest. Then her father immediately went to groom’s house for a matchmaking interview. Groom’s mother told her father about the affair of her son that he married other caste girl without their acceptance and now they wanted their son to get married to their caste girl. That cruel father didn’t even think about future of his daughter and immediately agreed to their proposal and he didn’t reveal about groom’s affair to anyone.
She was very happy and thought that she is marrying a person of her dreams but, she never thought that the dreams would fade out one day. Naturally after marriage she got to know about her husband , she immediately went to her parents and questioned them but there was no response. She alone faced all the problems in her life. She was beaten brutally by that drunkard husband. Now she sacrificed her life and adjusting for her children
Over thousands of women are facing this problem around the world.In India, government introduced many schemes for the welfare of women but there is no use. It depends on the mindsets of the people.Is there no solution for this problem? Yes, there is a solution. The best way to stop this violence is to raise your voice against the people who are troubling you,never adjust for each and everything, fight back.
“Before telling your daughter not to go out alone,Tell your son not to harass any women.”
Kia is a kind-hearted, sensitive and a charming girl. She loves her family a lot. Her parents encorage and pamper her. She had graduated in Biotechnology from a reputed Institution. She had worked as a Lecturer and everyone loves her, because of her helping tendency. Kia loves adventures and she has lots of ambitions in her life.
Kia wants to pursue PhD, but she gets married at the age of 26. Her marriage is a pure arranged marriage and it takes place in a small town in Tamilnadu. On 9th May 2016, she got married to Krish. Kia’s dad hold her hands and walk towards the aisle. Everyone’s eyes get fixed on Kia as she walks on the red carpet. Kia looks adorable in her beautiful white gown.Her marriage takes place grandly with her friends and relatives.
Krish is an employee,working for IT sales in Mumbai. He is the only son who is loved by his family a lot. Krish is a well of and male egoistic person. He values people based on their money and fame. Kia gets relocated to Mumbai after marriage. Everything seems to be fine and good at the start and she gets conceived and gives birth to an adorable bary girl named Ria, on May 8th,2017. All the members in her family becomes happy.
Days passes and Krish’s parents torture Kia both physically and mentally. They beat and abuse her.Kia bears everything for her daughter, because she does’nt want Ria to separate from her dad.Krish’s mom says to Kia, that she is not capable for her son. Kia’s heart gets broken and she cries terribly. Krish is always busy in his life with his work and watching football matches at night,without even considering Kia. Kia remains all alone in that home. Kia informs this to Krish, but he tells her to adjust and live.
One fine day, Kia makes her mind and comes to her dad’s house with Ria. Kia’s parents support and encourage her to become an author and she finally becomes an author.Kia works hard to fulfill all her child’s needs. Kia made up her mind that she will not go back to Mumbai to her inlaws house.
When Kia was alone in Mumbai,she used to pray a lot and she believed only god can heal her wounds. Kia wants to give Ria a good life with good moral values and manners. Kia lives for Ria and she hopes Ria would take care of her in the future.