I dropped my mobile phone in total disbelief. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks; and this really was not supposed to be happening. At least not now. If Oreoluwa or Kayode came in now, they’ll weep profusely. Poor children, I thought. Today was the wake-keep of their late father, and my husband who had died four days ago. His death was a nightmare to me, to the children; no one expected Richard to go this soon. My Richard. My loving husband. My rock. My happiness. Now, he was gone. How was I going to raise the children on my own? I barely made a #100,000 per month as a Government worker, and the children’s fees were about #160,000 put together. Richard had earned much better, so my salary was basically for myself. If I was earning #100,000 per month, how was I to pay #160,000, together with the money for the house upkeep, food and the house rent? I had had sleepless nights over this issue.
Worse still, and the reason for my brooding, Richard’s family had turned their backs on me and my children. Every single one of them. His mother claimed I had killed her child, that I used him as my “contribution” to my witch group. That I wanted to inherit his properties. I laughed, hearing that. What properties did he even have? Only a plot of land at Magodo. So who kills for a plot of land? Tell me. They said all sorts, and refused to eat or even come to my house. I could go on and on.
The eyes of a widow in Nigeria sees many ugly things, I’ve come to find out. In the eastern parts, they are forced to shave their hair off, and drink the water used to wash their late husband’s corpse. Wickedness at its peak. Its three years and two months since Richard died. As expected, none of his family members ever call. They don’t even call to ask about Ore and Kayode, who are meant to be their blood. Kayode had cried home one day, saying his classmate called him a bastard because he didn’t have a father. Admist his tears, he begged me to marry another man so he won’t be called a bastard again. After consoling and putting him to sleep, I wept the whole night. These children were too small to see life in its true cruel form. I wasn’t going to re-marry again of course, I didn’t want any man to come and start raping Ore, or even raping Kayode as there are homosexuals, bisexuals, transgenders, paedophiles, and all sorts of monsters out there today. I even got to know that Richard’s mum had cursed anyone who tries to help me and the children financially. So much hatred. I don’t care anyway; I’ve got the husband of the widow. Oreoluwa is now in a university that pays a yearly fee of #520,000 and I make only #100,000 per month. How I get to pay the fees I really don’t know. I just know God has always been providing. We have always had food to eat, clothes to wear and a roof on our heads. God has kept us, and he’s still working for us.
So whatever my late husband’s family tries to do, I’m not moved. Now, my goal is to see my children successful and happy years to come. I live basically for them. I do all the things their father used to do for them. Today is Good Friday, and we’re headed to a shopping mall, after which we’ll go to an eatery and have a nice time. These kids are my life; and I’ll do anything for them to be successful and happy in all life ramifications.
Thank you for reading.