III

Aisha was given out. Forced to marry an Alhaji, one who could father her grandfather and her father. She was absent at school today. The init girls didn't hear me walk past, didn't recognize my presence. But I heard it, the breathy whispers, punctuated by multiple hisses and exclamations.

I felt bad, she had become a victim of the patriarchy, the same one that reduced their females to nothing more than baby makers. The same one which crippled the future of the girl child. The same one that permitted she to breathe, and reprimanded her if she breathed in a way beyond the pattern stipulated for her. But, she was also my oppressor. The same one who condemned my views and made me feel so stupid. But then, how happy is she about this. She accepted it after all. But I am fully aware of the fact that she planned to elope with her long term boyfriend.(Don't ask me how, news spreads.)

But then, I could, and would never fault her for her kind of thinking. After all, she grew up with such a belief, indoctrinated in the worship of the male and all his flaws. So, I walked past the inits. But as I got to the doors of my classroom, I could feel the buzz. One that could never be replicated easily, the kind of buzz that came with a once in a lifetime kind of gossip. It was in the way my classmates strutted into the classroom, it was shown in the way their eyes glinted.

"Kehinde was hit by her boyfriend. Imagine, a common boyfriend. Not even her husband, if it were him, at least you'd know that he had some sort of claim to her." That was the summary, but I remember having to strain my ears so hard to get something tangible from their conversation. It is sad, so so sad. The fact that she was hit, and the fact that the girls feel that the blow would have been softened if she was married to the idiot. Why insult yourself, why try to justify the actions of your oppressors, why place tags on it. Why not just say it's bad, and agree with the fact that it is terrible. "What you just said now. That's plain idiocy. A man has no right over a woman whatsoever. We're our own people. Don't sell yourself short." I heard my voice, and I took note of the expression stuck to their faces. I was the nobody, the person who was absented from conversations. "And who the hell do you think you are. Did anyone call you over?" She was vexed, really vexed. I could see it in the tightening of her jaw, she was royally pissed. " I didn't say anything out of turn, I simply told you the truth. Aisha has been married of for a few currencies, what do you think is next. We've been suppressed for too long. Why are you so accepting of this. Our mothers are treated like dirt, a large majority of them are. And yet, all you can do is sing praises for the man. You insult yourselves, put yourselves down, underestimate yourselves. When anything that really involves hard work is brought forth, when a beautiful opportunity is handed over to you, you reject it. You keep telling yourself that you are incapable of achieving. You let the stereotypes of the town stop you. If we all stay docile and accepting. They will take, and take, and never stop taking. And our daughters, they will suffer, and so will many after them. So, what is wrong with the idea of starting a rebellion, for our lives, and also, the lives of our children, why remain so meek. You think it's a good thing to live your whole life for the sake of a male, pining over him, and continuously stroking his ego. That is not life, that's imprisonment."