If you haven’t read the first part of this story, here’s the link. Kindly read it before starting this one.
“What hurt me the most is the fact that one day you’ll end up in hell and God will ask me to account for the reasons why I lived with you and still watched you go astray. I can’t answer to God on that charge that’s why I’m doing everything for you to see the light. Don’t take it as me being pushy or forcing you to do things my way. God’s words can’t be disobeyed. I’m the head here and the Authority had been given to me to steer this family to the right path. You’ll listen to me. You’ll do what I say you should do. You’ll stop that work and get a proper job. It looks hard but if you think of where we are going afterlife, it should be easier for you. What do you stand to gain if you get all the material things of this world but lose your soul….”
It turned into a long lecture when I sat him one evening to talk about things. The first paragraph was his answer when I asked him, “What is really wrong with me going to work on Saturdays? Is it not the same money I use to help around here? Do you reject my money because I made it on a Saturday?” The answer you read a paragraph ago was just the summarized version of his lectures. For over thirty minutes, he talked non-stop while I sat and looked at his face. When he was tired, he asked me, “Do you understand what I’m saying?” I got up and left. He said nasally, “You won’t be the man of the house as far as I’m alive.”
I started seeing things differently. It wasn’t so much about religious differences. He was using that differences as a tool to put me down. Let me go a little bit deeper here. He’s a teacher. He would close from school and organize extra classes for his kids. He’ll come home around six and also organize extra classes for the kids in the vicinity. When everything is put together, I earn more than he does. I was paying bills in the house—light, water, buying gas, and even paying for repair works. The only thing he paid was housekeeping money. He would give the money to me on Friday and ask me to buy whatever we would need for the house before I come home. After that money, nothing else came from him. I didn’t complain. I didn’t use it against him until that day when I asked, “Is it not the same money I use to help around here? Do you reject my money because I made it on a Saturday?”
He stopped me from contributing to anything in the house. “If helping around the house is the reason why you don’t want to respect me around here, then stop it. We’ll live with what I make and it would be sufficient unto us.” So I stopped and watched him spread himself thin. You could see the frustration on his face but he couldn’t complain. I continued going to work on Saturdays when I had to. He continued fighting me when that happened. One day after church, I spoke to our local elder. He called for a meeting and we talked about our situation. My husband was so vocal and dismissive of my views. The local elder didn’t have much to say sensing that my husband was going according to the doctrines of the church. He said, “You two should seek the face of God. You’ll find answers.”
So I left the church and started going to my own church. On the first day at my former church, my friend looked at my face and said, “You look different. Something about you is missing.” I laughed. I knew what she was talking about. I answered, “I don’t have my earrings on…” She screamed, “Ow yeah. The church really changed you. Good to have you back.” That day, everything looked different. It felt like I was in a place where my heart can rest. The music was different. The preaching was different. I saw people dancing and jumping around and I knew what I was missing. When I prayed, I told God, “I’m back here for a reason. Let your will be done in my life.”
From that day, a certain calm descended on my heart. I went home and decided not to be angry ever again.
I will wake up, bathe and stand in the mirror and begin dressing. My husband would come and stand behind me and dictate what I should wear and what I should not. “Why are you wearing earrings? I thought we agreed you will no longer wear them?” Why are you in trousers? Is that how a woman should dress?” You’re putting on lipstick. You and Jezebel what’s the difference?” I would keep my calm. I will watch him say whatever he wants to say and do whatever he wants to do. I will leave the house dressed up the way he wants so he doesn’t make me late for work. One day, I looked around the room and all my jewelry was gone, including the make-up kit. Trousers were nowhere to be found. It was time to talk.
“Before we got married, we made a pact. I want us to go back to those arrangements. You’ll go to your church and I will go to mine. This was the job I was doing before we got married. You saw it and never complained. We are married. Continue looking at my job without complaining. If we are going to have peace and tranquility in this marriage, we have to go back to what we agreed on.”
He talked and talked and talked and landed on, ”I’m the man. The head of the family. You’re a baptized Adventist so you’ll live your life as such. We won’t argue about that.” He was right. We never argued about that.
I went to my church. He fought me but I never fought back. He would take my jewelry and hid them. I will buy a new set. I will break the sabbath and he won’t eat my food or touch me. I never complained. I cooked anyway. I lived a happy life while he was angry. In fact, I realized that my best days were the days when he was angry with me. He didn’t shout orders and he didn’t stop me from doing what pleases me. I liked it that way so I couldn’t wait for the sabbath to come so I could break it in peace.
We ended up in front of his parents one hot afternoon. He spoke eloquently about how I’ve changed and how I’ve gone wayward and how I’d become a habitual Sabbath-breaker. His father asked me, “Is everything true?” I answered, “Yes, it’s true. Before marriage, we had an agreement. We were to go to our individual churches. I agreed to attend his church because I realized that was all he wanted. I started attending his church and he switched up the rule on me. I’ve decided to go back to my own church. I won’t stop my work and I won’t stop my church for him again.” His father asked for calm and asked me to reconsider my decision. The basis of his argument was the fact that I’m the woman. His mother kept echoing at the back, “You see why I don’t like interdenominational marriages? They always come to this. My-in-law, soften your stand and let peace prevails.”
When we went home he started referring me to what his parents said. When I’m going to my church, he’ll say, “You don’t even respect my parents. You sat like a saint before them but decided to go against their word.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t even say a word. With time, I came to realize that my silence was killing him. Men with egos hate it when a woman talks back at them. They prefer you remain quiet as they speak. I’ve also come to realize that men with egos hate it when a woman doesn’t talk back t them. It confuses them. They don’t know whether it’s a sign of submission or a sign of revolt. They don’t like it when they can’t predict your next move. My husband was getting frustrated but I was more frustrated about the marriage.
My mom said, “Come home if you’re tired.” My dad added, “There’s no marriage in heaven. Once before the throne, we’ll all be judged differently. Come home if you think you’re tired.” I went to church one day and didn’t come back home. I called him in the evening and told him, “I’m staying with my parents to cool off my head. If you need me, I’m here.” That night, he insulted me and insulted my parents for taking me in without consulting him. Again, I didn’t fight back. I listened to him until he angrily cut off the line.
READ ALSO: My Husband Wants Me To Choose Between My Work And Church
A week later, he came to my house behaving like a dove, asking my parents to release me. My dad said, “She came here by herself. We didn’t ask her to so talk to her and take her home.” My parents left us alone. He snapped out of character and started throwing his weight around. I told him I wasn’t going back. He said, “Maybe you want a divorce. I will give it to you.” I didn’t respond to that. Two weeks later, he came with his father to meet my dad, to ask him to release me. My dad said the same thing he told him the first time. I told him, “I’m not coming back. I’m here thinking about the whole marriage.” His father asked me if I wanted a divorce. I didn’t answer to that.”
I’ve been living with my parents since November. He went around telling his friends that I had asked for a divorce. His local elder called to ask if that was the case. I said, “I don’t know anything about that.” Somewhere in January, his father called me. He asked, “Anas, you have to speak up so we know where to go from here. Do you still want the marriage?” I answered, “No, I don’t.” He asked, “Why? Since when did you reach that conclusion?” I answered, “Just a moment ago. It’s good for both of us. Our happiness depends on this so it’s better we let go.”
Traditionally, we are over. The rest is in the hands of the court. He’ll message me once in a while and ask how I’m doing. I will say I’m fine and it will end there. Recently, I heard the sound of maracas playing on the radio and I remembered how it played all day in his church. Somedays I miss his church. I’ve never missed him as a person.
–Anastasia
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