I Want a Divorce!

18 Mar I Want a Divorce!

He had this faraway look in his eyes when I walked into his office and it took him quite a while to bring his gaze to rest on me. His face was flushed and intense; an aura I couldn’t place hung around him. They had told me that he was a holy man of God; that his counsel was like hearing from the mouth of God!

I sat down at the gesture of his hand for me to do so. The room seemed to be thick with something that I couldn’t place either. He had been praying when I arrived and I was made to wait for a long time.

“Excuse me!” he said. And I thought he was leaving the room but, he just sat there and I thought, ‘unwound.’ Suddenly, I noticed he was down with me! That was what I thought. Then, he smiled and said, “You’re welcome, Mrs … (He stared at my form)…Dada.”

“Dada,” I said helpfully thinking he was somehow unbalanced and needed some help.

This was discouraging to me for I needed help myself. I was dissatisfied with my marriage and searching for anchorage points for divorce, being too conscientious to just walk away. Besides, there were the children…they must be on my side.

“What ails you?” he continued.

I thought fleetingly, “I hate his eyes; they’re peering into my soul.”

“Okay,” I said shifting my butt to gain more balance on his straight back wooden chair. “I’ve a problem with my marriage and I think I should leave. Love has gone from my home. And this man I married in innocence is, so callous and insensitive and a-a- bastard.”

I bit my lips, holding back the tears. Talking about my marriage made me weepy. I felt sorry for myself and I was sure he would feel sorry for me too – he’s a holy man of God.

The man nodded understandingly. I gained some confidence.

“Now, can we have the facts?” he said shocking me.

I sat up. “What facts?”

“The things he does that earned him those titles in your mind.”

That I was shocked was putting it mildly, I became wary of him. Am I in the presence of a male chauvinist?

“Tell me the exact things he does for example, he doesn’t reply to your greetings in the morning; he doesn’t smile when you tell a joke, etc.”

“Okay,” I screamed silently and I made a mental note not to believe everything my hairstylist tells me anymore for she recommended him to me. “He hates me,” I said carefully, slowly. Surely words are explanatory in themselves or do I need to act them out for him to understand? “He wouldn’t bring money for food, he doesn’t take me out; doesn’t say he’s sorry when he does wrong. He’s hardened against us, me and the kids. He also spends all his time outside and when he comes home, it is to sleep. He’s hideous. He spends his money on himself and not on me and the kids.”
“Doesn’t he sleep with you anymore?” he asked with some concern.

I stared at him. I hate talking to dumb people. This counselling is not going the way I expected it to.

“I’m not interested in his lovemaking!” I said with exasperation. “I’m talking about practical things not some fairy love stuff.”

He nodded with understanding but, I was beginning to distrust this counselor.

“So, I take that to mean that you two don’t sleep together, you don’t make love anymore?”

“I don’t know, (and silently I said and I don’t care) I’m not interested in such things. I cannot bring myself to enjoy a love act with a hateful person. The children are in Secondary School and the fees are enormous. They also need the presence and attention of their father. I’m talking about more serious things than sex!”

He nodded gravely but I doubted if he understood what I just said.

“Do you know engine oil?” he asked.

Is he schizophrenic or what? ”Yes,” I said reluctantly.

“What does it do?” he asked. He wasn’t laughing.

It sounded like a joke to me. You mean I came here to be insulted? I was offended. For a few minutes, I could not say anything. Then, I gathered my wits together. I was already in the counselling session; I might as well, finish it.
“It’s a lubricant,” I said. It sounded foolish to me.

“So is sex,” he explained without any airs. “It lubricates relationship. God put it there for a purpose. Take it out and, you have a rusty relationship. God put it there for a purpose. It is not only for procreation.”

I said nothing. I had made up my mind: I wasn’t going to sleep with a man who didn’t love me anymore.

“Do you believe in a Creator God, Mrs Dada?”

“Of course, yes.”

“You believe that a being somewhere created the world, the people and all the things we call our own?”

“Of course, what do you take me for, a pagan? Is it because I told you I wanted a divorce? I am a Christian to the core. Let me tell you some of the faith things I’ve done: twice, I’ve gone on pilgrimage to Israel; thrice, I’ve gone to St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome just for mass. The last time I was in Israel, I visited the place where Jesus Christ was buried and I scooped a handful of sand from there. It is in my house today, under my…”

The look on his face stopped me. I saw his face cloud over and he said in a hush tone, “I beg your pardon?”

But before I could proceed any further, he said in a very grievous voice, “If you ever went to Israel and, to the place where Jesus was buried and took sand for whatever purpose, I’m sorry, you’re not a Christian. You may think you are but, you‘re not!”

I sat up. I’ve had enough of this man. In fact, I stood up ready to leave. “I’m a Catholic,” I said shaking with rage. “I don’t visit pagan shrines nor consult witchdoctors. I came to see you because I needed grounds for divorce like they say that abortion must be therapeutic before one is morally justified to have it. I was born a Catholic.”

“Dear, young lady,” he charged at me like a crazed man, “you can never be born a Christian. Christian is who you choose to be at maturity. It’s not genetically transmitted and, abortion which is the taking of life can never be justified. A Christian is a Bible-reader, a Bible-believer and a Bible-doer. There’s nowhere it’s written in the Bible, go to Jesus’ burial place, scoop sand and put it under your bed!”

I began to walk to the door. I was livid with rage.

“Why don’t you find out what the Author of marriage said about it in the Marriage Manual?”

I stopped with my hand on the door handle. Marriage Manual? I never heard of it. I was well-read. How come I never came across a Marriage Manual?

“Read the Marriage Manual and comply with it and you will have a fulfilled life.”

I returned to my seat. “Marriage Manual? Is there a marriage manual? Who authored it?”

“God. It’s called the Bible!” he said sagely.

I was suddenly weary. I sat down.

Truth was that I needed someone to talk to, to confide in; a friend, a helper. He was watching me and I saw his expression softened. His voice was soft and kind when he spoke next.

“Why give up the marriage when God can heal it? It may look like I’m passing strictures on you but the surgeon hurts to cure.”

I nodded, wearily. He continued in the same kind tone.

“If you want to maintain a love relationship, don’t correct your partner too much. Accept your spouse’s shortcomings. Allow him to be a human being.”

“But, what if he’s stupid and silly and ignorant and claims otherwise?”

“I don’t suppose you ever heard of a man called Smith Wigglesworth, a Welsh preacher, died in 1947?”
I stared at him rudely.

“This man was a godly man. One day, he was travelling by sea and shared a cabin with a man he couldn’t trust his looks so he went to the purser to keep his valuables. When he explained his reason for keeping his valuables with him, the purser told him that his cabin-mate had already brought his own valuables explaining how he didn’t like the look of Mr. Wigglesworth. Lesson in it? – People see you the way you see them. Sow what you want to reap! You can change people through love. Once people know or sense or feel you love them, they will allow you to steer them or change them. The tool for correction is love and nothing else. Once you’re armed with that weapon, love, you can do all things.”

“You know,” I said dejectedly, “I want a love relationship – warm atmosphere where there is lots of laughter…”
“How do you do that?” he interjected excitedly. “I mean give warmth, say and do things that bring laughter and joy in your home? I want to know, I want to practice it.”
I was still blank. Why was he asking me? He was the counselor, I was the seeker.

“I don’t do such things!” I blurted out and then I stopped. I saw it was a trap he set for me and I walked into it!
Our eyes met in mutual understanding. He nodded and said, “Go and put warmth in your marriage. Put your arms around him, talk to him kindly; joke with him and praise him. Think less of his faults and focus more on his good points. We all have some good points, you know. Win him over, gently. Love works!”

As I left his office, I felt armed like I was carrying a weapon, a secret weapon that I’d wield on my spouse without him knowing it and before he’d know it, bam, he’d be on his knees pleading for my love! About being a Christian well, I’ve never really had time to study the Bible let alone believe it or practise it. But now I‘ve heard that it’s also a marriage manual, well, well, well! I think I should give it a try. I don’t really need a divorce, I want love. Love is better than divorce. Then, there are the children – they would love to have ONE HOME! The counsellor said, to be a Christian, read the Bible, believe the Bible, and do the Bible. I’II give it a try.

Deaconess Lechi Eke contributes her short stories from Lagos, Nigeria