Domestic violence: Nigerian Igbo men beat their wives all the time

In the kitchen where she had gone to get some fried rice to feed her five children, the husband-turned-monster ambushed her with a single punch to the back of the head.

‘Don’t hit me, please’, the wife begged, ‘and what did I do to you that you hit me so hard and so many times?’

Angered at both her request for an explanation and her plea for mercy, the monster struck the woman again in the left eye and nose. He aimed for her teeth and hit it on the top of her lip.

Red blood ran from the woman’s nose and mouth and splattered all over the concrete floor, along the edge of the kitchen cupboard. She was missing two teeth behind her upper lip.

In addition to shielding her face with her elbows and arms, she was defenseless against the monster’s cruelty.

With the back of her right hand, the woman began to wipe away the blood that was dripping from her nose. In doing so, she exposed her cheek, and ‘the monster’, the woman later said, ‘she slapped me with the speed of the devil, seven times on the right cheek and three times on the left.’

The last blow had such force that it knocked her off balance and she fell. She quickly got up off the floor and leaned her back against the closed kitchen door. For the sake of her children, she stayed tough until the very end, when she suddenly broke down and began screaming. Her screams attracted the attention of the children.

‘Shut the door quickly,’ said the three-year-old, the smallest of the children.

‘What’s happening?’ asked the seven year old.

‘Dad is hitting and hitting mom again,’ replied the oldest of the five.

Silence fell over the children, an indicator to the mother that they had noticed the commotion. ‘Oh! My children! Oh my five hungry children,’ she cried.

On top of the kerosene stove, resting on the low kitchen cabinet, was a razor-thin kitchen knife. The woman thought of grabbing it and applying it to the monster’s throat, but she didn’t dare.

Sensing his vulnerability if his wife mustered up enough courage to grab the knife, the monster decided to finish her off. He kicked her with his shod feet into her abdomen and chest, forcing her double over, crouching by the kitchen door.

Satisfied that the woman was beaten to the point where she had no mind or physical strength, the monster staggered out of the kitchen, its voice menacing as it walked away, ‘Tell anyone, tell your family, tell your mother, tell to your friends. Or your sisters, and I’ll not only ridicule them, but I’ll beat you some more and kick you out of my house.

Despite the monster’s warning, this time the woman was brave enough to report the repeated abuse. She had had enough. Once the abuse came to light, the demon went on the run; persecuted, not by authorities since they don’t exist, but by his inner demons.

Police have been called in in the past to handcuff an Igbo man who had knocked out his wife with the brutality of his left fist, only for them to laugh and walk away, saying: ‘This is not police business.’

A parish priest has been called in to reprimand and sentence to hell an Igbo man who gave his wife two black eyes, only to be told by him: ‘You know, when you got married, you married for better or worse, including death. ‘.

You would be wrong to think that the court of law would differ from the police and the priest. A judge, in every case, would laugh out loud, stroke his beard, and say, ‘That’s a family matter, my young friend; Go home and agree with your husband.

Families of battered women, who should be the last resort for protection, often raise their hands in defeat and demand that the women go back and cook better food for their monsters.

This current culture of ‘looking the other way’ has allowed wife assault to skyrocket among Igbo Nigerians. However, back in the days when Igbo men had guts, my uncle Karl had to send my cousin CKG to rip apart an in-law who had assaulted my niece.

If an Igbo man beats his wife in any civilized country, he goes to jail, where he is beaten by real men; So why wouldn’t some paunchy bastard in Nigeria who beats his wife go to jail, where he would at least learn the true meaning of life?

One could posit forever why a man, an Igbo man, can punch any woman twenty-two times in the face, on the lips and on the nose, and not even stop to think about his actions when he draws the first drop of blood, or when two teeth fall out of your mouth.

Frustration, some say, is the real reason Igbo Nigerians beat their wives every day: frustrations that stem from poverty, frustrations that stem from personal failure, frustrations from unrealized expectations, frustrations from a bloated belly, bad breath, ugly teeth and impotence.

Others think that Igbo wife beatings would not exist if Igbo youth were a little more educated. They say wife beaters are half educated.

As such, it never occurred to them that life is not a bed of roses. It’s no surprise, then, that every time they step foot on the thorny patch of married life they go crazy. Had they been educated, they would understand that Igbo women have strong opinions, and trying to suppress them is like trying to suppress a growing pregnancy.

For clarity, let me point out that not all Igbo men assault their wives. There are Igbo men, poor and rich, educated and unschooled, who have impeccable character. They would never lay a hand on their wives or tolerate any man who hurt their beloved daughters, their beautiful sisters, and his amazing mothers.

But, you know, as the Igbo proverb says: “When oil dirty one finger, the rest of the fingers get dirty.”