Things were different when we first fell in love. He was twenty-seven. I was twenty-three. His proposal was the simplest proposal I’ve ever had in my life. He asked, “Do you know what I like so much about you?” I asked, “What?” He answered, “Your buttocks. If you give me one chance to sleep next to this buttocks, I swear I would never look at anything else again. Who will even look at anything when they already have this before them?” I thought it was funny so I laughed it off. I said to him, “You men and little things…” Before I could land he retorted, “Eiii, you call this little? This is a whole mountain. I can hide behind it and my enemies would not see me. It’s a whole refuge.” When I said “you men of little things,” I wasn’t talking about the size of my butt. I was talking about why men would fall in love based on little things—based on something as little as butt, breast, and flat tummy.

When the evening ended and we were about to leave, he asked me, “So Baaba, what do you think about my proposal?” I was lost. “Proposal? What proposal?” He answered, “Oh, what were you thinking when I was there talking about your butt being a fortress that can hide me away from my enemies?” I asked, “Are you serious? You call that thing a proposal? I don’t even consider it as a compliment. Just leave me alone.”

He didn’t leave me alone so a week later, I said yes to him. Different people have different reasons for falling in love. As crazy as his reason may sound, I didn’t have any better reason to fall in love. “He has to be tall,” and he was tall. “He has to be of good character.” As to what makes a good character, I didn’t know. “He should have a sense of humor.” He had it. In fact, he was the funniest guy I’ve ever met. When I accepted his proposal I asked him, “Now that you have it, what would you do with it? Lay your mat and sleep on it?” He answered, “Just watch me.”

Lovers hold hands when they walk. Evans never held my hand. He preferred to put his hand on my butt. It would wiggle and he would smile. “That’s what I’m talking about…” He would say. When we get to public places, he would move his hand up a little to my waistline. He would look left and right and say, “No one is looking at us.” He would bring his hand back to where it used to be and start singing praises for my shaking butt.

It didn’t take long before we started doing shuperu. He had a crazy level of energy when it came to shuperu. He could do it morning and afternoon and evening and still ask for ‘for the road.’ He ran to my place one dawn because he said he had a dream and saw a guy admiring my behind. He came to sleep next to me and coiled inside my arms like a baby— a baby who needed the embrace of her mother before he could sleep. 

We dated for nine months and got married. On our wedding day before he took the mic to speak, I warned him, “No matter what you say you should never say anything about my behind. Respect yourself. My parents are here. They don’t like that.” He got up, said a lot of beautiful things about me and how I’d changed his world and how he wouldn’t have married anyone if he didn’t meet me. Before he ended his speech he said, “Who will see a mountain and still run to the hill for cover? She’s the mountain I hide behind when my enemies are running after me. When I’m behind her, no evil eyes can see me.”

Everyone there took his speech literally so they clapped. They didn’t get the metaphor so they found the speech alluring. I could imagine a lot of people saying in their heads, “Awww how romantic.” I heard some friends shouting, “Goals! Goals!” They didn’t get it. If they knew his speech was an ode to my butt, they might have felt something different.

We came from our honeymoon with my first pregnancy. It was tough for me. As early as four months, I felt so heavy I couldn’t do anything. I nearly resigned from work because waking up each morning and going to work looked like carrying the whole world on my shoulders. I was in pain most often. Abdominal pain, joint pain, body pain, back pain.I felt pains in places I didn’t know existed. So we stopped doing shuperu as early as the first trimester. The next time my husband had access to me, our baby was almost five months old. We had gone almost a whole year without access to his favorite thing. 

He grew impatient but he wasn’t angry. He couldn’t sleep at night because his favorite position next to me was taken. Our baby was also the crying type. He would cry at night for nothing. It was like we were connected through an invisible magnet. When he is asleep and I move slightly off him, he would wake up and cry. My husband got so frustrated that at a certain point, he had to do it while I was breastfeeding the baby. He was behind me busy doing the do when he stopped abruptly. I asked, “What?” He answered, “I don’t like how the baby is looking at me.” I looked down at the baby and he had stopped breastfeeding and was looking directly in the direction of his father. He didn’t even blink. Stern look. As if to say, “Why is this man going up and down behind my mom.”

Our baby turned into a monitoring spirit so shuperu became far and few. He was barely learning how to talk when I got pregnant again. That too wasn’t easy for me. It was even worse than the first pregnancy. Apart from the joint and body pains, I was engulfed by a wave of severe nausea. I threw up at any given opportunity and spent a lot of days in the hospital bed than in my own bed. 

Our second baby is currently six months old while the first one is four. These two kids have combined powers to ensure that nothing goes on between me and my husband. At night when the second born is asleep, the first one would stay awake asking for my phone to watch cartoons. I would pet him, sing for him, do all the things that would make a baby sleep. Immediately he falls asleep, the second one would also wake up. They would be running shift on us all night.

You don’t have to look hard on the face of my husband to see how frustrated he looks. He talks to himself often. He comes home from work to continue working in the corner of the hall. When he’s not working, he would be playing with the kid. He switches off very often. At one time he would be smiling. Just within some seconds, he would be quiet and thinking. He doesn’t eat well. I know him and I know his appetite but these days he leaves most of his food untouched. I asked him, “Is everything ok?” He nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine.” He’s fine but there’s no spark in his attitude.

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One evening, the second one was asleep and the first was watching cartoons on the phone so we sneaked out of the room to go to the hall and do the do. It didn’t get to a minute until we heard the second one screaming. My husband asked, “He’s awake already?” I said, “Forget about them, keep going.” The cry was loud and intense but we didn’t bother. We were busy doing it when the first one walked in on us. He didn’t look surprised or anything. He simply said, “Baby is crying.” And then he turned away. My husband asked, “We agreed to have four kids right?” I said yes. He said, “It’s ok. Two is enough. At least the world knows we are capable of giving birth. We have two to show for it. Let’s end it here.”

I thought he was joking but everything he does now shows he’s serious. That’s not even my problem. My problem is how I can satisfy him without the interference of these kids. He looks miserable. He looks like a starved man. He tells me he’s fine but I know him too well to know he’s lying. Sometimes I’m scared he would cheat. I trust him not to do it but I can feel his frustration and it gets me thinking wild thoughts. Our parents are nowhere close to help us out. So we have to soldier on like that. As I write this, the last time we did it was three weeks ago. Just imagine. This is a man who could do it thrice a day. This is a man who takes all his time to explore and fidget with things. Now he has to rush through it like some thief in the night because of his own kids. Even the rush-through one doesn’t happen as often as he wants it.

Parents on this platform, please come to our aide. How did you manage? How did you cross this bridge when you got there? Did you jump or crawl? Any advice that would give us just five minutes uninterrupted moment would be deeply appreciated.

—Baaba

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