When my grandmother was about 13 years old, she was introduced to the man that had been chosen by her parents, for her to marry. Even now, my grandma is nowhere near 5 feet, and then this man towered above her. As she told the tale to me, she was bending over some washing during the introduction, she looked up, and his head was in the rafters, AND he was exceedingly old. (He was probably in his late 30s though!) What do you do? She was extremely intimidated by the thought of marrying this old giant, so she told her parents that times were a-changing and a good wife should at least learn to read and write. So, they sent her to school to learn to be a good wife. That is where she met my grandfather, and married him. Nigerian men often complain about how devious Nigerian women are, but often do not consider that deceit is the only way of escape from the unnatural evil cages of societal oppression and deprivation that we have been forced into. But this is not about Nigerian men. This is my grandmother’s story.
My grandmother probably did not have an easier life with my grandfather than she would have had with the man chosen for her. Apparently, he (her chosen intended) was quite well-off. My grandfather on the other hand, was a poor schoolteacher, in a time when cocoa farmers were the big moneybags. As the wife of a school teacher, my grandma trekked more miles across Nigeria than you could ever imagine. Carrying all her belongings on her head, and her children on her back. My grandfather was always being posted somewhere. Mention a town in present day Okunland and my grandfather has probably taught there. My grandmother buried three children. One died as she carried him on her back and raced to the hospital at Egbe to get him treated. He died before they got there. Trekking. She became the arbiter of family quarrels, the mother to all my grandfather’s students/pupils. The rock he relied on for sustenance. No, she has not had an easy life. But she had the life she chose. This is her story.
When we talk about women’s rights, or equality, this is what we mean. Ensuring that girls and women can choose their destiny. That they are not hindered by the irrational expectations of social mores that are nothing more that the fruits of the tree of dominator culture. We hope that we live our lives as the fulfilment of our grandmother’s dreams. And this is why I write. This is my grandmother’s story. This is my story. I am my grandmother’s dreams. Being fulfilled. Daily.
Picture taken August 2016.