The Boy Child With A Difference: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE
It was one of those regular morning.
A school day to be precise. Tricia and I had just finished preparing for school and we were relishing our bread and fried egg with steaming tea richly prepared by mom as breakfast. Everything was in check. Our school uniforms, well ironed with a can-cut-through-a-paper type
of crisp. Our assignments were intelligently done and well placed in our Ben ten and Barbie school bags.
As earlier said, it was one of those regular morning which was marked by the greeting of the morning sun.
As it pierced it’s head from the east side of our house; signaling a new day. It happened that this regular morning turned out to be not-so-regular after all. It turned out to be the day I became a judge who would decide the fate of a loved one. My name is Samuel, I am nine years of age, a pupil of Kings Luther Primary school, and the son of Mr. and Mrs. Emmanuel Onwuka.
“Oya you, write wetin happen that day. If I find sey you lie, I go flog you koboko”
Officer Tunde commanded as he handed me a pen and paper to testify. I have always dreamt of becoming a lawyer, a Just one to be precise. Even with all enthusiasm I have shown towards my dream profession, I have never ventured to enter a police station until now. The station was located at the outskirt of the city. A building with an almost washed out cream colored painting surrounded by fleets of police vans; both those in a good condition and those in need of spare parts and scraps dealers.
‘It was exactly 7:15am on Tuesday, 2nd June 2020’ I began my statement.
“My mother Mrs. Cecilia Onwuka had been up since 5am preparing our breakfast and lunch for the day. She had just finished preparing our lunch which was Jollof rice with fried fish and was hurting to heat up the water for our breakfast when we had just completed our preparations for school. Tricia and I sat at the dining table waiting for our mum who happened to be six months pregnant to dish out the breakfast.
My Dad, Mr. Emmanuel Onwuka joined the table. My dad is dark in color with a six feet and five inches heavily built body. He is the General Manager of a reputable real estate firm. Since he was rich enough to cater for us, he ensured mum’s job was to manage the home.
As we were done with our meal and waited for mom to clear the table (Please don’t call us spoilt
children, we were just obeying dad’s orders), she accidentally spilled the little tea I had remained on dad’s white shirt.
Out of sheer rage and anger, he pounced on mum and dealt her with blows that would have won him awards if he had registered for a boxing contest. Mum pleaded and begged dad to show mercy. She didn’t know that I had remained a little portion of my tea on the cup but all pleas fell on
My Little sister, Tricia and I watched with tears and the occasional ‘’Daddy please forgive mummy” plea as dad exercised his franchise on mom.
We are not new to this type of Public Display of Affection again. On so many occasions, mum have been hospitalized for crimes as little as not waking up exactly 5:00am (she did wake at 5:02am that day), not serving dad his tea at the right temperature, and up to crimes as heavy as not answering promptly when he calls. She had always told us that since we were kids, we should not interfere whenever dad was exercising his franchise.
“It was the adult way of showing love and care” was all she would say to me and Tricia.
On so many occasions have I heard her cry over the phone to Aunt Patience; her best friend, discussing the way my dad treated her. She didn’t know that I learnt the word ‘Miscarriage’ secretly from her as she discussed with Aunt Patience. Aunt Patience had encouraged her to seek for the Government or NGO’s aid but she debunked the idea, she believed that marriage is for better and for worse and that they (my dad and mum) would
settle things amicably.
My dad on the other hand is a loving and caring husband, he visits her regularly with flowers whenever she was hospitalized. After she’s been discharged, he takes her shopping and then does lovely things like handle chores, gifts her new things and tell her bedtime stories.
To be honest sir, Tricia and I always look forward to such events. It was like having to endure being robbed so as to enjoy a new phone.
As dad kicked and boxed mom in different plausible styles, suddenly, Mummy stopped pleading and started bleeding.
Like a phase, dad stopped exhibiting his skills and started shaking mum gently till it escalated but mum laid still. Dad picked up his phone and called the emergency number of St Margret’s Hospital.
All these happened at exactly 8:00am
With that I dropped my pen and handed my
Please can we talk to our parents? I asked.
”The one wey don die abi the one wey go die later?”
Officer Segun replied sarcastically.
‘I don’t understand sir?
”Who’s dead and who’s going to die later? Definitely not our parents right?”
”Please tell mum that we’ll buy her the best flower this time and maybe travel for vacation after’’
I asked amidst the tears and utter confusion. Tricia just sat quietly beside me sobbing. We had always known her to be the reserved one in the family.
‘’Let me tell you something, Samuel” Officer Tunde began.
“Your mummy is dead, she has gone to
heaven with your little baby too.” He said.
”They would send you and your sister the best flower no one has ever seen. I know it would be hard for you to understand this but your father won’t be visiting you anytime soon. We have contacted your uncle to come and take custody of you and your sister for the mean time. With your statement, we’re able to find a solid reason to charge your dad with first degree murder, countless charges of domestic abuse and lying to the law via his statement. What he wrote in his statement contradicts your report which not only matches the evidence collected in your home but
also the report of the autopsy carried. I am sorry, you might not be seeing your dad anytime soon or
maybe you might see him behind bars. I urge you not to be like your dad but treat women with
respect. You shouldn’t lay hands on a woman no matter the condition. If you’re skilled in boxing, get a punch bag. There are better ways of solving conflicts” Officer Tunde concluded and left
the waiting room.
Uncle Tony later came with his Toyota Camry car and took us to his home. It was a day that I would
never forget in a hurry.
Written By @SAMMY_KAYCEE For DerivingJoy TBCWAD
THESE STORIES ARE WRITTEN TO HELP KICK AGAINST SOCIAL VICES COMMON AMONG OUR SOCIETY – WITH FOCUS ON ILLS MOSTLY METED ON THE FEMALE GENDER BY MALES