Previously on 88,000 Acres of Bad Shit.


0600hrs, Sunday Morning.

He wouldn’t let me touch him, not even look at him. A month ago we had had an argument that escalated to depths I couldn’t even begin to fathom. In my blind rage, I slashed his shoulder. I wondered when I was reduced to that. When did Nneka become a violent person? Such questions tormented my mind every time I tried to take a step in the right direction. I didn’t know which direction was the correct one. My North hadn’t been well aligned lately. I had pushed both of us to the extreme. He largely blamed me for his car being writen off.

A few years had passed since I got married to Akala. Many at times I saw exits along the road. But I stuck on the main course. There were so many ways to go about it but I couldn’t just leave. I was an orphan. I had no family nor parents of my own. Akala’s mother, Mrs. Francesca Kudzu showed me kindness and let me in her family. I never liked the idea of an arranged marriage. I however quickly realized that I could use it as an anchor of somewhere I could belong. I swore and stuck to the traditional vows that I’d protect my marriage. Lately the sunshine didn’t seem to radiate it’s warmth within our darkness.

We were never taught how to love during the first three years of marriage. It was more of a “convenience.” We used our pain to comfort us. Each of us confronted their own insecurities in the best possible manner. We never practiced what we preached. I can see that clear now. He has been showing signs that he wasn’t comfortable.

“When did the rain start beating me?”


Akala had never wanted to get married, but he caved in so that he could quel his mother’s never ending naggings of wanting a daughter in law and grandchildren. Her mother found me while I was in the depths of my woes and despair. She didn’t think twice about it. She immediately decided I was good for her son. I didn’t seem to mind.

I didn’t get along with Akala. We fought over little unnecessary things. And instead of embracing our differences and trying to see how we could rectify our mistakes, he found someone else to teach. The more I became furious and asked questions, the more he became devoted to his newly found “student.”

We didn’t try to see with our eyes how far we had fallen. Instead we would show up to corporate events and other business dinners arm in arm with dozen of lies filled in our plate to fool people into thinking we were a happily married couple. Akala loved flaunting me to his pals. We tried so hard to keep it in and maintain the happy smiling plastic facade. And after each and every event that had passed, Akala would run off to tutor extra curricular exercises that didn’t involve me.

We both turned a blind eye to what layed within us.

We became splintered and rotten to our own very fundamental cores. I found fault in whatever he did. The fights became full blown. I was insecure, desperate and nagging. Deep within the walls and confinement of our marriage that would perhaps offer us a safe haven, I saw all the answers to our never ending problems. It lied within the one who always tried to dodge them.

Back to the present.

My head has a throbbing ache. I’m afraid to be alone. I’m tired of hoarding my pain and calling it home. It’s true that I’d fight for what’s mine. All I wish for at the moment though is that he would turn and look deep into my eyes. He’d promise that he wouldn’t run away and I wouldn’t have to dry my eyes every now and then and run after him.
We have died Akala, and only pretend to live. We have to stop the life from leaking in. We have to turn away from what’s leaking in.

We are splintered.

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