Let us tell this story as it is

MAKE WE TOK DI TORI AS E BE

When Lum-Limunga’s parents told her to marry Atangana the security officer from Freca, she did not foresee the drama that would ensue their union. Atangana was robust and had a face that hardly smiled. He didn’t seem to want her. He wasn’t pursuing her, buying her roses or anything like that. He was definitely not one of the sweet romantic guys Lum-Limunga had read about in the romantic novels. When he walked, he oozed an air that said, I am self-sufficient. I need no woman. He was not her ideal man.

In fact, if there was even an ideal man that was Lum-Limunga’s type, she was yet to find him. She was not ready for marriage. As a fresh adolescent, she had other dreams. Like she wanted to try new hairstyles rather than being stuck on low-cut hair as she was forced to do in her secondary school days. She also wanted to attend a professional school to become a lawyer. She had ambitions. Marriage wasn’t one of them.

Her parents were strict. Sir Williams Copperfield and his wife, Anne nurtured Lum-Limunga from when they adopted her from a German orphanage till now she was all grown and lived with them in Brisouca. She was their baby, their little girl. They had their own dreams for her. They didn’t want Lum-Limunga to go into the world on her own. They wanted her to be with a man. If she didn’t want Atangana, she could choose Emeka.

Emeka was short, had a permanent off-putting smile on his face and had a son out of wedlock. He was a rich business man and seemed to want Lum-Limunga more than Atangana did. But she didn’t want him. He seemed too pre-occupied with raising his son that Lum-Limunga thought she would be the most insignificant aspect of his life.

“Do I really have to get married now?”

She asked her parents as they sat to eat dinner one evening.

“Baby,” her mother said, lightly stroking her hair.

“We are your parents. We know what is best for you. Just trust us with this. We have chosen two of the best men for you. Just tell us which of them you want and we will send you to him. Trust us, you will be fine.”

Lum-Limunga gave her mother a look filled with uncertainty. Then she managed to let out an “okay”.

A story about forced marriage - Precious Core

February 11, 1961. That is the day Lum-Limunga had to pick her man like a child would pick a toy from the toy shop. Only this time, the child neither liked the toy shop nor any of the toys.

Lum-Limunga wanted to be a Miss Independent. She had heard horror stories of how women got into relationships with men and their lives took sour turns. Stories of how men literally whipped life out of their women. How they didn’t allow them be individuals in their own right. How they made every decision for them. How they assimilated them like colonial masters assimilated territories in those days. How the women merely existed rather than lived because they had gotten attached to those men. Lum-Limunga had heard those stories. And she knew two friends in this exact situation. She watched them die every day though they still breathed. Her heart bled for them. She didn’t want to be a similar statistic.

She wanted to be on her own, live life on her own terms and do whatever she wanted. If she was going to get married, she wanted to make that choice on her own. She didn’t want to be zoomed off to a man’s house like she was a well-priced good in the market.

Her parents assured her that her marriage would be nothing like the horror stories she had heard. They said her would-be husband would protect her and make her more stable in life. The said they wanted nothing but the best for her.

So on this cold day, in the February of the early 1960s, she had to make a choice. She had to choose either Atangana or Emeka. She stood before her parents panting. Her left eye released a tear. Anne, her mother stood up and put her arm around her,

“Honey, you will be okay,” she said.

With more tears coming out this time, Lum-Limunga looked at her foster mother and nodded her head in approval. She then grabbed a napkin from the side cupboard and cleaned the tears from her eyes and the watery snout that oozed out of her nose.

“It is Atangana. I will go live with Atangana.”

Lum-Limunga made her choice. She chose Atangana over Emeka. Emeka had baggage she didn’t want to deal with. Atangana seemed very unappealing but was was she to do? She was asked to choose between the devil and the big blue sea and she chose the big blue sea. She could not deal with “the devil” but at least she could swim in the sea.

Marrate oh, marrate oh

Oh marrate!

Marrate fine, marrate sweet

Oh marrate

(Marriage oh, marriage oh! Oh marriage! Marriage is fine, marriage is sweet. Oh marriage!)

The women in Lum-Limunga’s hometown sang and wriggled their waists as they celebrated Lum-Limunga’s decision to marry Atangana.

Her parents told her she was going to start living with Atangana, right from that day. Lum-Limunga obeyed them. So with no marriage certificate or church blessing, she packed her things and moved in with him.

The first few days of her marriage were bliss. Lum-Limunga could govern her own life. She only consulted Atangana so that they could plan together as a couple. She had some degree of independence. She wore her hair the way she liked. She even started attending law school- her lifelong dream. She was beginning to like the man. Maybe her parents were right, after all.

Then one day, Atangana slapped her. Because she asked him what he did with all the money in her account. The money meant for her tuition. The money she made from the oil business her parents handed over to her. He used his hand and applied pressure to her cheek.

Lum-Limunga ran to her kitchen to cry. She was livid. How could a man who professed to love her inflict hurt on her? That slap was the beginning of things. A series of evil things that characterised their arranged union.

In the years that followed, Atangana excessively controlled her. He told her how to wear her hair, what friends she could keep, who she could visit and what she could cook.

He controlled how she used the money she made from her lawyer job, forced her to speak, cerf, his traditional language instead of silgne, her own traditional language. He took over the oil business her parents handed over to her. His ways were simply despicable.

Any time she opposed him, he tortured her. He withdrew privileges from her. Like taking away her car keys and forcing her to take taxis to work. Like withdrawing every iota of compassion he had for her.

Sometimes, after treating her badly, he would go to an expensive store and buy her gifts. The gifts made her smile but that smile was often short-lived because in no time, Atangana launched another episode of torture.

This went on for years and years. In those years, Lum-Limunga was beaten, scorned, mocked, raped and maimed. Maimed. So maimed that she walked with her head down. She lost her self-confidence. She lived like a stranger in what was supposed to be her own home.

Yet every year, Atangana celebrated that day in the second month of the year. The day when Lum-Limunga got into a relationship with him. Such a paradox, it was.

One day, when she had had enough, she decided to write a note to Atangana:

“My dear husband, I would like us to talk. These years with you have been pure hell for me. I want us to go back to the way it used to be. To how I could make my own decisions, speak my own language and keep my own friends. Please let’s talk about this. I want this union to work. I love you.”

She slipped the note into Atangana’s pocket as he left for work that morning. The note was the first thing he read when he got to his desk. He read it and then he laughed. He laughed so hard that his co-worker leapt from his desk to see if he was okay.

“I am not done with you yet!”

Atangana spoke to the piece of paper in his hands as though it were the woman in his house.

He did not say a thing about it to Lum-Limunga when he got home that day. He continued life as usual, violating the very essence of her existence. Lum-Limunga watched him everyday, hoping he would say a thing or two about the note she had left in his suitcase. He said nothing. She sent a second and a third note, with the same message, hoping to get him to talk with her. He didn’t make an effort.

Then one day, as he got home from work, he met her waiting for him at the door.  She grabbed him by his balls.

“You must talk today!” She exclaimed.

Atangana looked at her, feigning shock.

“What is it with you this woman? What do you want this time?”

“Wulilililililililililili!” she screamed.

The volume of their voices attracted neighbours who came into the scene

“Lum-Limunga, what is it?.”

An older woman asked from the crowd that was gradually gathering to watch the man-and-woman-drama.

“Mama, ask her oo.” Atangana said with an innocent-looking face that was a sharp contrast to the villainy that characterised his life with her.

Lum-Limunga released his balls then looked at him with shock written all over her face. She looked at the crowd and felt like crying before them. But what came from her heart was resilience.

“Wulilililililililililili! Whooosh!” She screamed, running around like a woman that newly lost her sanity.

“Make we tok di tori as e be!” (Let us tell this story as it is!)

She exclaimed in pidgin, her lingua franca, looking at the crowd with wide open eyes.

“50 years ago, my parents forced me into a relationship with this man!”

She pointed at Atangana who now had a face that looked like it wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

“This man was supposed to love and cherish me. He was supposed to protect me. But what did he do? He beat me up. He broke my bones. He raped me. Yes, he raped me. He took away my car keys. He controlled the money I made as though it were his. He made fun of me. He laughed at me. He treated me like trash. And when I begged him to talk with me, he ignored me.”

“Wulilililililililili!!!”

She screamed even louder this time.

“Look Atangana, your end is here. I will not allow you treat me as a lesser person.”

“Give me back my life! Give me back my peace! Give me back my money! Give me back my everything!”

“I am done with you. I do not want this union anymore. We do not even have a marriage certificate in the first place. I’m going to move out of your house and live my life free from your wicked claws. A caged woman needs to liberate herself”

“No be so?” (Isn’t it?)

She asked the crowd.

“Na so!” (It is!)

They answered.pre-signature-pro

27 Comments

  1. Interesting read! I enjoyed the pidgin part more.
    We still have this same scenario playing out this present day, parents making their children go into marriage without them being ready for it.
    Marriage is sweet but can be draining if one isn’t psychologically prepared for it, if you now marry someone you ain’t attracted to at all, then the relationship is dead on arrival.
    We should start committing everything about our children to God’s hand right from the womb, and prayerfully guide them to make right choices in life, without enforcing anything on them.
    Have a blessed week Precious.

    • “Marriage is sweet but can be draining if one isn’t psychologically prepared for it…”
      So much wisdom in that statement and in your entire comment, Bola.
      Thanks so much darling. Enjoy your week!

  2. Very nice and interesting story.Hope you will continue writing

  3. Yaaassssss Pré another mindblowing piece. You are a writer extraordinaire. Look at how you used real xters to explain the Southern Cameroon and LRC came we stay. Enough is enough. Atangana leave us alone ooh ei don do.
    Welldone dear. I enjoyed everybit of it.

  4. Precious! Where will you submit this for publication??? This tells the whole story in a very visual way! This could be a perfect script for a movie to tell the Anglophone crisis.But don’t sell the script cheap oh lol. The choice of names Lum-Limunga, Atangana, Emeka… is just great.This is for sure a good read! Well done

  5. Woside part two dehhhh, how you just lif me hav way so Preshy??? I di wait.

  6. Na so o! Na wa for some men o.

    I was so livid when I read ““I am not done with you yet!” Imagine the wickedness.

    Lady Presh, I hope there’s part 2? This well-written tori really sweet. Lol 🙂

  7. Ndenge colette

    Precious, this is a hit…..my God. It tells the story just in the right way, exactly as it happened. Perfect choice of words… Hahahaha, I di wait d part 2 with blood. Lum-Limunga beta fight for ya rights till d end ooooo.

  8. Hi Presh. You are just perfect in all that you do. Be it cooking or writing.
    I enjoyed this write up. That left me wanting for part II. I would like to see Atangana give her back her life! Give her back her peace! Give her back her money! Give her back her everything.
    Your eloquence is great!
    Looking forward to it Presh!

  9. Oh wow! What an interesting read. Great write-up Precious! Really great! I enjoyed every bit of it.

  10. This is a heart-wrecking scenario, marriage should not be arranged for any woman or man,marriage should be a choice and not a business affair. after all in today’s world some women and men want to achieve some certain standards in life before committing to marriage. parents,guardians and even pastors in church should stop arranging marriages. it’s detrimental to our society. For those women who are victims, don’t be afraid to speak to the right sources. I say ENOUGH IS ENOUGH TO FORCED AND ARRANGED MARRIAGES. BTW Dear Precious this could be published in a national newspaper. good job sister

  11. Tapinui John!

    Very beautifully crafted to tell a story -a story that happens to be current and recurring. Only this time we will see. Good job.

  12. Very smooth read; I see what you did there…hehe. Those who know, know. The imagery is very poignant, like most truths are. May God help Southern Cameroon. Keep up the good work. May the ink of your pen never dry out. Amen

  13. Honestly, I thought it was just a story but I had to go back and read when I saw the comments. It’s interesting how you were able to weave in history and contemporary issues which reminds me, I need to even google the situation in your country and educate myself.
    Great post. Reminds me of the Precious I first met and loved her writing instantly. That Precious whose prose flowed masterfully and I connected to her instantly. I was like ” na here I go siddon”.
    Not that I don’t love all the other ( Precious’es ) but the Precious that wrote this, was the one I loved first. Great work. You should submit to newspapers, online journals in your Country for publication and even internationally. You are telling the story of your country, and it needs to be heard.

  14. Finally I can drop a line here. I have not stopped thinking about this post ever since I read it and my phone did a trick on my comment! I can’t remember the exact words I wrote back then but I remember noding as I read yes make we tell the tori as yi de!
    Your use of characters to paint this messy part of our history makes the whole situation so real and alive. Na man whey no know oh!. Analogy is on point! Atangana bera deal justly with Lum-Limunga or let her go!
    On the surface you see the down sides of forced marriages but reading deeper, you see the history of Cameroon in all its murky glory. This should be published dear and if possible look for someone to do a short film documentary to get the story out there it needs to be told!
    Our own Shakespeare we await that book oh!
    More Manyanga to your finger tips.

  15. Pingback: THE STRUGGLES OF LUM-LIMUNGA | Precious Core

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