A FRATURED LOVE: THE AGONY OF FEAR

 

Who is Joyce Banda?
Joyce Banda, the powerful and all-round badass former Executive President of Malawi. With fancy degrees from Columbus and the Atlantic International University, she wanted to change her world from a young age. Hence, she did what every young woman did in the 70s, get married and have children. Her husband at the time Roy Kachale physically abused her for what seemed to be the entirety of their marriage as most African men did without reprimand and it gave the impression that this would be the pattern for Joyce. The one alteration was that Joyce was unlike other African women. She was tired of living in fear of a man she no longer loved so she took her three children and left Roy. It was improbable at the time for a woman to just up and leave her husband because of spousal abuse that was considered a marital cross. Yet, Joyce was a grass-roots feminist who was resolute to make something of herself and show women around her that they could too but how could she do that if she was entombed in a marriage where her husband was ‘Lord Abuser’ and not a companion.
Marriage to Richard Banda
 She left Kenya and returned to Malawi where she upgraded to her current Husband who was a High Court Judge at the time, Richard Banda (retired Chief Justice of the Republic of Malawi and former captain of the Malawi National Football Team). She was leaving a scumbag for a man who acknowledged and loved her with the three children that came per the marriage.

With the burden of fright gone and the backing of Richard, she established various fruitful business enterprises, which became the bedrock for her to help other women achieve financial liberation, thus breaking the rotations of cruelty and poverty.

“I got married at 22 and remained in an abusive marriage for 10 years, I made up my mind that that was never going to happen to me again. I made a brave step to walk out in a society when you didn’t walk out of an abusive marriage. It was mental and physical abuse. Two years later I got married again to my husband who was a high court judge in Malawi. For the next two, three years I moved from zero to hero. I was running the largest business owned by a woman in Malawi…But when I look back His (Richard Banda) fingerprint was all over: If I wanted training, he paid; if I wanted a loan he came with me. Because of his status in society, everything was easy for me…And that’s when it began to worry me. I began to think about those that were in my situation that was not able to walk out of an abusive marriage, or maybe those that did not know where to go, that was in a single-headed marriage, or widows. I was thinking what I could do to reach out to them”. (Guardian Newspaper, UK)
What is fear?

The Wikipedia Online Encyclopaedia describes fear as “A feeling induced by perceived danger or threat that occurs in certain types of organisms, which causes a change in metabolic and organ functions and ultimately a change in behaviour, such as fleeing, hiding or freezing from perceived traumatic events”.

 In humans, fear might ensue as a retort in expectancy of an impending peril alleged as a risk to body or life.

In Simi’s experience, fear is a paralysis that leaves you agitated, filled with resentment and anger. Overtime fear gives way to resignation…the acceptance that He who wields the iron over you will always triumph.

1996...Simi's Fear

The first time she experienced fear, real gut-wrenching, heart deserting fear was when she was six years old. She came home from evening lessons and the living room doors were locked, which was unusual because the doors were always open until 10 pm. She knocked on the door and there was a loud bang followed by a tormented wail. Hold on a minute, wasn’t that the distinctive sound of her mother’s voice on the other side of the door? She hit the door with both of her fist balled up willing it to give way so she could go in and rescue her mother. As little as she was, her under-developed mind knew that her father was on the other side of the door doing harm to her mother’s body. She screamed at the top of her voice… Father, please stop! Somebody help me! Help! Help! The neighbours watched in silence. One of them even dared to smile as he observed her hitting the door in helplessness. Suddenly she heard her Father’s voice, Get away from the door Simi! Her mother retorted, don’t go anywhere Simi, please get help! He is trying to kill me! Fear gave way to sorrow and she cried, at the foot of the red door that signified home. She wept until he opened the door five minutes later. His fists were bloodied, sweat dripped from his chest to his groomed pot belly, she noted how he took in a huge gasp of air, trying to get his breathing to normalise, his bloodshot eyes, staring unwaveringly at her. They had been here before. It was almost becoming an uncomfortable routine. I thought I told you to go away! Why didn’t you? Huh! Why did you stay behind! Get out of my way! I am late for a trade union meeting.

She ran inside the living room along with her Sister and saw her mother sitting on the armrest of the huge brown sofa beside the black and white TV. Her shirt had been torn from her body during the fight, blood gushed from a nasty scar on the right side of her face, her wrapper was lying lazily somewhere in the room and she was clad in her white bra and underskirt. She remembered thinking how it was possible that none of the blood had gotten on the underwear. White, such an immaculate colour that she would come to associate with violence instead of peace. She wrapped her small hands around her mother’s neck, willing her body’s warmth to engulf her mother and somehow make her feel better. What did you do mum, why did he hit you so badly? Her sister Lola who was sobbing uncontrollably asked. I refused to bring him water to wash his hands after he had finished eating, so he beat me for being disobedient. It made no sense to Simi why her Father didn’t just go outside and wash his hands instead of beating her mum.

1997....terror

Oh my God! Her father shrieked from the bedroom. They were watching an Indian movie in the living room when they heard his scream. They all rushed to the bedroom to see what he was blaring about and to everyone’s surprise her little sister was on the floor eating a fist full of body cream and laughing her tiny head off as if the cream was delicious. There was a look of terror that passed through all their faces as they looked at each other wondering who had left her alone in the bedroom. How did she even climb the bed before reaching the vanity where the body cream was kept, she wondered. Her father’s face contorted in rage and for a second she looked at her mother and saw the look of the pure fright there, another beating coming up for leaving the child unattended even though her mum had just walked in alongside her Father. He was the type of man to mete out punishment when he couldn’t find a culprit. In a rare twist of fate, his anger was focused on Simi, her five-year-old brother Tokunbo and her elder sister Lola. He dragged all of them to the living room and one by one, thrashed them mercilessly on the buttocks until there was a red coloured swelling from the top of their back to their laps. She recollected feeling like she deserved the flogging, it was her fault that mama, as the baby was fondly called, had been left alone. She didn’t figure that she was seven years old and her little brother was only five so babysitting shouldn’t have been their job. They should have done better darn it! After he had left for his shop, her mother gathered them in her arms one after the other and massaged Robb balm in their buttocks as she sang to them to ease the pain. As she cried in her mother’s lap she was at least thankful, better her than mother…this was one beating they would always gladly receive to relieve the grief that came with defencelessness every time he beat mother.

1999...Christmas, Father of the year

It was a good day, Father had surprised all of them at the children evening service when he bought drinks and food to surprise Tokunbo who was clocking seven years old that Friday evening. Waow….your father is so awesome! Her friend Raji said with an excited gleam in his eyes as he stared hungrily at all the rice and chicken Father had brought to church. She looked at him in surprise trying to decipher what the trick was. He never did anything out of the goodness of his heart and he sure didn’t turn up with the gift of food and drinks to play Father of the year. He noticed that she had refused to touch any of the food shared with the kids so he came to sit beside her. She tensed up as soon as she felt his weight on the bench. Simi my precious, he started. Her eyebrows lifted till it almost touched her hairline as she sneered at him in disgust. I know how much you distrust everything I do and I accept that it has entirely been my fault. No father should have his child look at him the way you see me. This is me trying to better. I want to show you and your siblings how much better things can be between us so please, I beg you my darling, eat some of the food I have brought. She hated that her heart skipped a beat as she looked into his eyes as saw what she had always wanted to see… love, compassion, kindness. Okay..I don’t believe a word you have said but I will eat some of the food if only to ease Tokunbo and Lola who are staring at us right now. They don’t know you like I do but for their sake, I will eat the food. Now please leave, you are making me uncomfortable by sitting so close to me. He smiled at her with so much happiness glistening in his eyes. You won't regret this sweetheart! I promise you that I am going to be the best Father from here on.
A Leopard never changes its skin

They all came home in the best of mood. There was electricity, a Mexican telenovela was airing on TV and mum had made the perfect dinner of garnished noodles and coke to celebrate Tokunbo’s birthday.

Epinmi oooooh!!! They heard their mother’s voice coming from the bedroom. By the time they got there some of the neighbours had already barged into the bedroom and were struggling to pull their father off their mother where he seemed resolute to knock her out before rising. The men were thankfully stronger and managed to tug him off her. There was blood on the bed, everywhere she looked there was blood, how did he manage to do so much damage in such little time! As he passed her she turned her eyes away in shame but the stench of alcohol on him was hard to miss. Her mother had turned from the small crowd that gathered in the bedroom, folding her body into itself as she wept on the pillows, sobs wracking her mangled frame as she cowered in shame from having everyone see her at her worst. She turned and left the room packing a pair of slippers to take to her Father who had walked a kilometre away to cool off.

You walked away barefoot. She spoke to him without any emotions in her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable.

He seemed so alone, out there in the cold without a shirt or footwear, legs dangling off the ledge he sat upon as he focused all of his attention on her. She went to sit beside him and they didn't say a word. She couldn’t leave him alone knowing how much he was loathed in that moment. They sat side by side, for 30 mins until his cousin came and she left. Her mum was sitting on the veranda, someone had helped clean her up but the blood under her chin wouldn’t stop spurting. She took a damp towel and gave it to her mother. Here, hold it under your chin to help with the bleeding. Her right eye was barely visible under the swelling, there were ugly red marks on her neck from where he had strangled her and she clutched the left side of her waist in visible pain from the blows he rained down on her. What did you do this time, mother? she asked in a monotonous voice. Her mother paused for a second, perhaps considering whether to tell her nine-year-old kid why her father had hit her once again. I was in the shop, helping him close for the day, a customer walked in and sat down on the bench and we got talking, he placed his hand on my lap briefly to get my attention and your father saw. He didn’t say anything but as soon as we got home he crushed me. Suffice to say that no one spoke a word to Father for the next two weeks and nothing is more lonely than being ignored by your own family.

2003...the breaking point

She was very tired when she walked in wearily from school with her siblings that Tuesday afternoon. They had barely taken off their school bag and shoes when her parents sauntered into the living room screaming at the top of their voices. Another fight was looming, she could feel it but what she didn’t sense was the determination burning in her mother’s vein. He slapped her, a resounding sound that echoed around the room. She gasped and they turned to suddenly notice the presence of the kids. Her mother clenched her cheeks, anger visible in her eyes along with something they hadn’t seen in a  very long time…defiance. She looked around frantically and her eyes caught on the triple deck iron beside the single sofa. She picked it up and smacked him upside the head, using all of her body’s weight to gain maximum impact. He fell to the floor without making a single sound. Tokunbo was looking at him with gleeful hope in his eyes. Maybe he would stay down and never stand up again, perchance he was dead. It was the same thought passing through their minds as they watched blood spring from his bald head and colour the new rug that had been laid down two weeks ago. Nobody went to give him a helping hand. Two full minutes went by and just as they were starting to smile he got up slowly. His eyes were dizzy from the shock of the hit and the blood had started to coat his white shirt. That is the last time you ever hit me! Do you hear me you miserable drunk and sorry excuse of a father! If you ever touch me again I will cut your genitals in your sleep! She saw something that she had never associated with her father colour his eyes. Fear. With the iron still in her hands, she ushered Simi and her siblings out of the living room as the eleven-year-old Tokunbo’s laughter rang throughout the passageway at the event that had just transpired.

2015... we are one voice

It has been over ten years since her mum faced her tormentor in a move that surprised everyone. He never hit her again after that day, however drunk he got the recollection of that fateful Tuesday afternoon mellowed out his aggressiveness as he kept his hands to himself and focused all of his abuse of the power of words. He was getting more aggressive of late, lashing out at everyone till they completely avoided him. Simi’s mother seemed to be once again at the brunt of his frustration. His business had taken a downturn and he blamed her for his failures. He came home around 10 pm, as usual, had his bath and came into the living room to watch TV. He quietly took the remote and changed the station from African Magic to CNN, balanced his leg atop the coffee table and settled in to watch tv. Did you not see that we were all watching the station you just removed. I understand that you have been out all the day but the least you could have done was ask our permission before changing the station. Ask your permission! He screamed, Woman, are you mad or stupid or just a plain excuse for an imbecile. This is my home, I pay the darn rent in this place and make sure all the bills are cleared and you want me to take excuse before I watch what I want. He stood up and loomed over her, his hand extended into the air as he readied to give her a bank handed slap. But what he didn’t expect was for Simi to rise quickly and hold his hand back. Enough! She said with barely controlled rage. Your children are right here and you dare to hit our mother! We are not kids anymore and I will not stand by and watch you abuse my mother, physically or with the vile words you speak. He turned to her with surprise. Do you dare to hold my hands? She stood in his face, the same defiance her mother had worn as a garment some 12 years back clothed on her back. We will all do more than that if you ever touch or insult her in our presence again you weak and pathetic excuse for a man! Her brother and sisters stood and congregated behind her, hands folded akimbo as they stared him down daring him to challenge their words. He looked at each of them in shock. His own children come from his loins were not only talking back to him but were threatening to beat him if he flouted their instructions. He walked away into the bedroom and didn’t come out to watch tv for the next one month. They laughed as he turned because the relationship had shifted. From that moment on, none of them looked at him in fear. When he spoke they merely tolerated him, taking his words at salt value. It would never be the same dictatorship where fear was the feeling that caused them to tremble and cower in his presence. For the first time, they saw him as he truly was. An ageing 5ft 3inch man, mortal like the rest and whose words could no longer hurt because it had lost the efficacy of the past.

The agony of fear can only be overturned when you rise to face your fear. You can’t walk away because the memories are just as powerful as the physical effects of the fear and just like Joyce, Simi’s mother didn’t truly start to enjoy life until she rid herself of the authoritarian fear she had let her husband display over her life.