Five years ago, we stood in front of God and declared our undying love for each other. We dated for almost two years without a fight, without acrimony, and without shuperu. It was my idea that we don’t do it until marriage and he agreed. I thought along the way we were going to break the vow but we kept it going until our honeymoon. It wasn’t easy. We came close to doing it on several occasions but we took a break, revitalized, and came back together stronger. So that day when I wore my white gown and stood in front of the church, there was this pride in my heart. I told myself, “I deserve this. I deserve this white because God knows I’ve remained pure in the heart just so I can deserve my white and veil.”
Our first shuperu wasn’t awesome. It didn’t last long and it felt like two strangers making love for the first time. I didn’t blame us. We’ve known each other in several ways but not in that way. We’ve learned about each other along the way. We knew our strengths and weaknesses but when it came to shuperu, we didn’t know anything about each other because it was our first time. We were strangers in that direction. I knew it will take time for us to learn and I was ready for it. But day in and day out, our shuperu life kept going bad. We grew in every direction but didn’t grow in that direction. I was worried. I felt I wasn’t doing so much. I felt I was failing my husband. Each time when we were done, he will turn his face against the wall and won’t talk to me until we both fall asleep.
We had to talk about it and we did. I asked him, “What’s wrong with us?” He asked, “What do you mean?” I answered, “There’s a disconnection. That disconnection is only felt when we are doing the do. You don’t come to the party as you should. You don’t pick the signals. It’s as though you’re not interested in what’s happening. Is there something I should know? Is there something I should learn that I’m not learning? Am I failing you? Am I boring? Tell me everything and I’ll learn to do it right.”
That day, he told me two or three things he enjoyed that I wasn’t doing. I also said my own. We agreed to make the next one great. But one of the major issues we faced was who to initiate the affair. We had been married for a year and I’d been the one to initiate all the shuperu we’ve had. He never did. Not even once. I remember telling myself, “I won’t be the one to initiate things again. If he won’t, we’ll both be there until we rot.” We went almost a month without shuperu until I gave up and initiated. We talked about that one too and he made a promise to change. He never did. In his defense, he said, “I’m really not into that. I can go several weeks without doing the do. It’s the reason I don’t initiate because I’m never in the mood. When you want it, come with what you have and I’ll meet you in the middle.”
So who to initiate shuperu became the foundation on which all our fights were built. It got to a point, I concluded that there was a problem with my marriage. I needed to talk to someone so I ran to our pastor and discuss things with him. It was embarrassing but I had no option. It was our pastor who referred us to a professional counselor to work on us. After several sessions later, nothing changed. I had to push him to initiate. I concluded again; “Maybe he’s cheating with someone else. I have to probe.” I went through his phones and went through his bag looking for evidence of cheating. When I didn’t find anything, I put it to him, “You’re cheating on me. Say the truth.” He laughed at me. He asked me to prove it. He made a joke out of my assertion and walked away. I didn’t have proof so I didn’t hang on to it.
He loved cucumbers and he often came home with a bunch of them every weekend. I don’t like cucumbers. I don’t like them in anything of mine. They are tasteless and too dull to cause a spark in my dishes so I avoided them. My husband could eat them raw. He’ll dip them in saltwater and start eating them. I studied a trend. He’ll bring three, eat two and throw one away. So every weekend we had a cucumber in the dustbin. I told him, “Why buy three when you can only eat two? Stop wasting money on it and buy what you can eat.”
I went to church one morning. He didn’t go. I had severe cramps in church followed by a runny stomach. My menses was coming so I had to rush home in pain. I got home, rushed to the toilet and he was there, a cucumber was lying on top of the cistern. He was sweating and his eyes were red as if he smoked something. I thought he was pooping so I said, “Hurry up, I’m suffering.” He got out without the sound of the toilet flush. I went in and started thinking about everything. “He comes to the toilet with a cucumber? He doesn’t flash? What was he doing here? Or…..Is my husband into….Eish, what am I thinking? Can this be the reason he doesn’t come to the party at night? Stop it, you’re going too far. How could he do that?”
I shut my mouth and opened my eyes and ears. Not too long afterward, I caught him in the act. He wasn’t eating the cucumber. The cucumber was rather eating him. I said softly, “I knew it. I wasn’t crazy after all. So this is the reason you don’t care about me? Is this the reason why you never initiate anything? Is this the reason you never come to the party?” He was quiet. Deflated actually. He was like a man stripped naked in public. No voice. No dignity. He looked straight into my eyes without answering any of my questions. As if to say, “Yeah, this is all I am. I have nothing else to say.” I tried for days, begging and asking him to explain things to me. All he said was, “I’m sorry. I don’t know I was hurting you.”
I went back to the counselor with tears in my eyes. I told him everything and he was equally shocked. He was trying to hide the shock on his face but the eyes don’t lie. So we started the sessions again and that’s where he spilled the truth. He had cheated on me once. With a man. A former colleague of his. I know that man. I met him once. He’s also married. I thought the friendship between two married men was safe so when he told me he was meeting him, I didn’t say anything. When he came home late and he told me he was with him, I didn’t say anything. When I saw him calling him late at night, I didn’t complain. It’s always those you see as angels who turn out differently. The devil you know will always be the devil. The angels change.
At some point, we had to bring our pastor into the sessions. He asked my husband, “Have you always been like that?” My husband recounted how it started. He was living with his aunt and her husband when he was a boy. Fifteen or so. His aunt’s husband had an apprentice who shared the same room with him. It was that apprentice who started it with him. They did it for over a year until the apprentice graduated and left the house. He said it didn’t change his orientation but once in a while he misses it and gets the urge to push something in there.
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Our marriage was three years old. I remember how I cried and how I wanted to give up and walk away. But he knelt in front of me, in the presence of the pastor and the counselor, and begged me not to walk away. “I’ll be a better man I promise. This would be the last time it will happen. If you forgive and stay with me, I’ll never turn back.” He turned to our pastor and said, “I need prayers. Please don’t leave me. Kindly plead on my behalf.”
For over one month, we went to our pastor’s house every evening after work and we’ll pray together. We continued with the sessions until he said he was ok. I was studying him. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt. I was careful not to trust him that easily. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes and ears opened. He’s now a better man as he promised to be. He’s very open about everything. I know his password to everything, even to his company emails and social media accounts. He doesn’t tell me that he has nothing to hide. He opens the door for me to look at the corners of his life and be a witness to whatever is going on. He calls Christ his salvation and the Bible his guide. He said, “I love the story of the prodigal son. After he lived a wasteful life in a faraway land, he realized his mistake and walked back home to his father. His father didn’t turn his back on him. He took him in, clothed him, fed him at a banquet, and called him his son again. It doesn’t matter how far we run away from the father, when we decide to come back home, he’ll always welcome us back into his unconditional love.”
It’s his favorite story but the metaphor in the story is not lost on me. We have a son together. Whatever we lost during the beginning of our marriage has been made double. Joy, laughter, care, compassion, and his providence have always been with us. We are whole—a whole family in the Lord.
—Abigail
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