There is a couple living in the compound house I live in. The information I had when I rented this place was that they are the longest tenant in this house. The original owner of the house has died. The children don’t have time to manage the house so they had given the management of the house to them. They take rent and see to it that every tenant has paid their utility bills. I got here through the son of the original landlord so I didn’t deal with them directly but immediately I took occupation of this place, it became very apparent that the tenants here hold them in high esteem.

The man should be in his forties and the woman should be in her early thirties. They have four kids who wander around here after school because both parents would be out there doing their business. I learned the man is a steel bender and the woman has a shop in the market. I hardly see them in the morning unless I wake up very early. My door is next to their door and it’s only a wall that separates us so mostly when they are too loud in their room, the sound finds its way into my room. I’m not talking about that sound that came into your head when you read that. No, I’m talking about sound that comes from things such as knocking on a wood or stepping heavily on the ground, or playing loud music. Yeah, those sound.

One late night I was asleep when I thought I was hearing voices. At first, I thought it was a dream so I didn’t bother. I continued sleeping. It started getting louder and then it became clearer. I could hear the voice of a woman screaming. Then I could hear thumping beats coming from what I didn’t know. I opened my eyes and strained my ears to catch what was going on. It was that couple fighting in the middle of the night. I heard, “Kill me…do it. You’ve always been meaning to do it. Go ahead. I’m watching you.” Then the sound of a slap followed. I could hear them battling it out. Things were falling down and then finally I heard the voices of their kids screaming at them to stop it.

I stayed up and listened to them until they finally went quiet. I looked at the time and it was around 1am. I couldn’t sleep again. I was thinking about them. I was thinking about their kids and the horror in their eyes as they watched their parents fighting. I started having flashes of my younger days when I was living with my aunt Baaba and her husband. Those two never stopped fighting. My aunt was thick and tall. Her husband was lanky and tall. I didn’t know what went on in the mind of my aunt but she always felt she could match her husband pound for pound. 

They fought every day. They didn’t care whether or not we were there. They fought with anything they could find. I remember one day I was dressing their bed when I saw a kitchen knife under one of the pillows. Her husband had traveled then so I could safely assume the knife was for my aunt. “Why is she keeping a knife under her pillow? What is it for? Is she planning to do something?” I couldn’t ask her all those questions. I just made their bed and left.

One dawn I woke up to find them in a scuffle. Her husband was trying to hold onto her neck. She was trying to break free. She slipped and hit her head on something. She went unconscious. She spent weeks at the hospital but she never made it back home. She died. That night when those two were fighting, those were the memories flashing in my mind. I wish I could get up, knock on their door and tell them something. I wish I could have the opportunity to tell them what my aunt went through because of such things. I stayed up all night thinking about my childhood days in my aunt’s house until the cock crowed for the morning to begin. I woke up very fast before they could open their doors. I was sitting next to the tap when the wife came out to fetch water. I looked at her face but she avoided my gaze. Her face was swollen. Her lip was broken. I still didn’t say anything. I saw her husband too. He had scratches on his face and a mark on his nose bridge. My heart went running. 

There is this co-tenant I vibe with very well. She was the one I spoke to. I said, “Nights ago this couple didn’t let me sleep. They fought all night. They woke up the next morning bearing the marks of the fight. Is that what they do here?” The co-tenant burst out laughing. I was surprised she found it funny. She said, “Oh those people? That’s what they do ooo. At least once every week you’ll hear them fighting so you better start getting used to it. That room you are in was being occupied by Jay. One tenant left and Jay moved from there to occupy where he’s now. Jay left that room because of their incessant fight.” I asked, “And you’re not doing anything about it?” She said, “Do anything about it? Don’t even try it. They’ll shame you.”

I didn’t see the kind of shame that could come from trying to genuinely help someone in trouble so I started getting closer to her. When she came from the market and she had too much to carry, I helped her. When her kids come from school and they are hungry, I give them something to eat. When she washes and they are not around, I will take the laundry off the line and fold it for her. She noticed my kindness and drew closer to me. Every evening, she’ll sit outside with me and we will talk. I started buying from her so we could have more time to talk. For so long that I was closer to her, this woman never raised any conversation about her marriage. Even when I subtly brought up general issues of marriage, she found a way to kill it.

One evening, the fight happened in the open. everyone saw it. We witnessed how the husband was slapping her and how she was trying to block off the slaps by throwing some up. The men went to separate them. I pulled her inside my room for her to cool down. She cried in front of me. She later apologized to me, “Sorry I disappointed you. It won’t happen again.” I said, “No you didn’t disappoint me. You were defending yourself and that is proper.” She answered, “It’s all my fault. I’ll apologize to him and make peace.” I retorted, “I don’t know what happened that brought the fight but your husband had no reason to hit you. He’s a man and he had to exercise restraint.” I used the opportunity to tell her what happened to my aunt Baaba. I told her, “I haven’t been here for long but I’ve witnessed more than ten fights between you two. I know you love your husband. You can’t divorce him but you can separate from him for a while….”

READ ALSO: Am I Wrong To Start Thinking Of Divorce?

I was in mid-sentence when she got up and started leaving. The look she gave me felt like I was outstepping my boundaries. From then on, this woman started cutting me off. She didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Even when I had gone to her to buy from her, she’ll give me a signal that she wasn’t ready to talk to me. When I greeted her, she responded and that was all. I told my co-tenant and she said, “I told you. If you try, she’ll report you to her husband and they’ll collectively hate on you. Allow her to suffer. She enjoys it. Other than that she would have been gone long ago.”

Of course, I understand abuse in a different way than she does. I understand how the victims act sometimes and I understand the reason they act the way they do so I was more sympathetic to her situation than anyone around. I didn’t force the relationship again. When I heard them fighting at dawn, I put my pillow over my head and try not to hear until one dawn I heard a knock on my door after they had fought. I opened the door only to see her face bleeding. She couldn’t talk well. I rushed to another co-tenant next door and we rushed her to the hospital. When they asked her what happened she said, “I took a wrong step on the staircase and I fell.” 

We were shocked. The nurse treating her came to look at our face. She could see hand marks on her but this lady had the courage to lie. We didn’t even have a staircase in our house. The nurse said, “You can lie to the world but not to the nurse treating your wounds. If you do that, one day you’ll die a silly death.”

Everything shows she’s not ready to leave the marriage. Recently I thought about reporting the situation to the police. I’ve thought of taking the issue to DOVVSU. I’ve even talked about it with a friend who’s a lawyer. Her situation hurts me to the core and I want to do something to help yet the person suffering from the fire looks ok and she’s carrying her cross with a smiling face while I sit here gnashing my teeth. I want to know, is there a way I can bring authorities into the issue, or is there a special way I can help her make a decision? Or you say I should mind my own business and stop crying more than the bereaved? 

This is what keeps me awake at night while everyone is asleep and snoring because I’ve been a witness before. I don’t want to witness it twice.

–Farida

Do you have any relationship experience to share? Email it to [email protected]

NOTE: NO PART OF THIS CONTENT CAN BE REPUBLISHED OR REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT THE EXPLICIT CONSENT OF THE EDITORS OF THIS BLOG.