Of subtle signs that we turn blind eyes to

Her parents tell her to keep pushing; it takes patience to keep a man. Right from the days and years of courtship, her mother tells her, “Change is constant. With prayers God will touch his heart.” Nobody remembers, in their series of admonitions, to tell her that change is only susceptible to those who make themselves available. Like the common Yoruba adage (translated to English): A pot that desires to eat pepper has to consider getting its bottom burnt.

She also thinks about it. About how she is desperately in need of a husband. About how men who are ready to settle down are hard to come by these days. About how she has no time left. Besides, a woman sun sets before the batting of an eyelid. She cannot afford to lose what seems to be a life time opportunity. How can she throw away what some ladies frequent Shiloh for? How can she throw away the donkey years of courtship because of subtle signs that do not hold water? And this is how she gives in, says yes, and watch as subtle signs grow to become countless of bouts of blows to the forehead. Blows that gradually reconstruct the beautiful contours of her face, and turn her into a caricature of a being.

Then the sermons and pieces of advice changes. A woman has to endure and overlook myriads of things to keep her home. Does she want her kids to become products of a broken home? Can she stand the travails and upheavals that come with being a single mother? it's no longer about keeping her man now; its now about her home and her children.

Her parents reiterates how no daughter of theirs will ever come and ‘da'le mosu’ in their house. Even the religious folks are not left out: “The bible is against divorce. A wise woman builds her home.”

And so she obliges, and keeps up with the punches and slaps, forgetting that little drops of water are what make a might ocean. Does she think her body is concrete on which blows hit and bounce back? Her body accommodates every hit and would one day give account. But no, she's bent on keeping her home. Until she breathes her last, and the home she has given her life up for refuses to harbour her corpse. And she ends up sealed six feets beneath the ground.

And this how our dear daughters are being led blindly to their early graves—push from the society, the will to fulfil family demands, the desire to meet up with mates. But is it worth it?

The signs are always there, no matter how subtle. The ability to detect on time and flee while there is still time is key. Do not despise the days of subtle signs lest you ending up running into the claws of domestic violence. Shine your eyes. Flee from all appearances of evil, one of which is domestic violence.