The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) and Kogi State Governor Idris Wada yesterday urged the Supreme Court to dismiss an appeal filed by a chieftain of the party, Jibril Isah Echocho.
Echocho is challenging the legitimacy of the December 3, 2011, election, which produced Wada as governor.
At the hearing yesterday, INEC, PDP and Wada, represented by J. M. M. Majiyagbe, Olusola Oke and Chris Uche (SAN), faulted the competence of the appeal and urged the court to dismiss it.
Echocho challenged the legitimacy of the election before the Federal High Court on the grounds that it was wrongly held.
The Federal High Court declined jurisdiction, as the case involved governorship election issues over which it lacked jurisdiction.
Echocho went to the Court of Appeal, which upheld the decision of the Federal High Court, prompting his appeal to the Supreme Court.
Adopting his brief yesterday, Majiyagbe urged the court to dismiss the appeal because he said the reliefs sought by Echocho could only be granted by an election tribunal.
“The narrow issue is whether the Federal High Court can entertain electoral matters, especially in light of the reliefs sought by the appellant, one of which is that the court should set aside the election.”
Uche noted that the Apex Court on September 10, last year upheld the election.
He argued that having not taken part in the election, it was strange that he would seek to be declared the winner of the election he did not participate in.
“The appellant sought to rely on the primary election of January 2011, which he won, but was canceled. In the case of Sylva against PDP, the Supreme Court held that the cancelled primary had become no issue and no one could rely on it.”
Oke said Section 285 (2) of the 1999 Constitution vested exclusive jurisdiction in the election tribunal to determine issues relating to the conduct of elections and that Isah was wrong to have come to the High Court.
To him, the High Court and Court of Appeal were right in dismissing the case, and urged the Supreme Court to do same.
Oke told the court that PDP had the right to abandon a primary and conduct a new one.
Echocho’s counsel Wole Olanipekun (SAN) submitted that the case was novel because it raised issues that had not been decided before.
“This appeal has no precedent in this country. It calls for your Lordships’ intervention to protect the sanctity and potency of the judgment of the Supreme Court and the constitution.”
He argued that the December 3, 2011, governorship election was held in violation of the Supreme Court’s judgment, which terminated the tenure of five governors.
Olanipekun said his client could not have gone to the tribunal because his case did not fall within the grounds for filing a petition.
Justice Mahmud Mohammed adjourned till February 21.
Prof. Longmas Wapmuk, is Director-General, Industrial Training Fund (ITF), where he has been calling the shots since 2006. The ITF, which suffered a chequered existence following years of inactivity, has literally reinvented itself and is now fulfilling the mandate it is saddled with, which is producing skilled manpower for the country. In this interview with Bukola Afolabi, he shares the success story of the organisation among other issues.
Could you tell us how long you have been at the helm of affairs of the ITF and your experience?
Well, I was appointed specifically on August 2006. This means that I’m slightly above seven years in the organisation now. For example, when I came on board , many companies at the time particularly the foreign companies were not interested in training in the Industrial Training Fund thinking that our staff were not very competent, we addressed this problem by training many of our people overseas. And today, in Lagos you find out that we have so many training programmes being given to us to implement by the major companies.
A prove of the rise in training consciousness, on account of ITF intervention, is the increasing request for reimbursement by employers of labour registered and the remitting of training contributions to the fund. Reimbursement of training contributions is done on condition that ITF’s guidelines on training are met. Therefore, the more employers of labour request for and get reimbursed indicates that training consciousness has really increased and is daily increasing in the economy. One of the visions of the ITF, when it was established in 1971, was to be one of the foremost field training and development organisations.
I believe the organisation has achieved its aim. The ITF was little known before I took over as the Chief Executive. We have problem of poor funding. The budget of the organisation was around N3.6 billion, which is far too small to achieve all what we want to achieve. Also, the staff is not happy, there is no motivation and the salary was so poor. The relationship between ITF and organised body was not good. My management was also dissolved. These and many more are some of the challenges.
How did you address these challenges?
As at now, the ITF is a household name. First of all, I took a trip to Lagos. I met with the organised sector stakeholders. We discussed on the way forward. This, of course, enhanced our relationship. Like I said, my management was dissolved, so I had to set up a new management. Restructuring and re-organisation took place and today we have about six vibrant departments in the organisation. I was able to get new improved salary structure for the staff and all the outstanding promotions took place.
In terms of funding, the money available for training has been very low and we thought that there was the need to improve the level of funding. When I came, I started by soliciting for money from government. I drew up a plan and followed it up by going to the supervising ministry, the Education Trust Fund (ETF) and many other places and found out that I could not generate any revenue from my efforts.
So I decided to look inwards to see areas of generating revenue if we are to function properly as provided for in the law setting us up. I found out that in the so many countries I visited, they have similar laws but there is no reimbursement clause because they use all the money to train. But in our own case we reimburse 60 percent to the industry and 40 percent is left for us to pay our salaries and to do the training.
On assumption of office as the Director-General, I found out that there was a law establishing a Fund and, in this law, there was provision for collection of some money to sustain the activities of the ITF. And when I came in, the level of fund generation was very low as I said earlier. Apart from the fact that the budget of the ITF was around N3.6 billion, the law stipulates that ITF should collect one per cent of firms and government agencies annual staff salary.
You know, ITF is sustained by contributions from the organised private sector. But, you see, when they contribute this money, ITF does not keep all the money. We require them to train their own staff; so part of this training is done by them. When they train, in accordance with our new law, we refund 50 per cent of what we collected from them; so, we do not keep all the money. What is left is not enough to fund us, and to equip our centres. That is why, of recent, you see that we have been making a lot of efforts to collect revenue.
Have you started collecting the money now (one per cent) and what is the level of compliance?
Yes, we have started collecting the money but the money we have collected so far is not much. This is because we are just implementing the legislation and there are so many things in the amended Act. If you look at section six of that law and subsection. The level of compliance is not high, but it has improved. For instance, the number of companies have improved from 5,000 to 20, 000. Our revenue has increased to about N18billion now. Mind you, about 800,000 companies are registered with the Corporate Affairs Commission (CAC). So, you can imagine 20,000 companies out of about 867,000 companies. If we can get hold of at least 300,000 companies, it will solve most of our problems. We still have a long way to go, though, but I know we will get there.
Can you tell us about your training centre? How are they functioning?
The ITF training centre, particularly our model skill training centre, which is located in this compound, has become a ‘Mecca’ for Technical Vocational Education. We have centres in Lagos, Jos, and Kano. We have a modern one in Abuja. We have been able to complete the one in Lokoja. When people come around we start to showcase our centre, which we built with technical support from the Institute of Technical Education Services of Singapore.
The ITF also is always at the cutting edge of technical vocational skills training in Nigeria. In addition to bringing people to training, the ITF takes training to the people, particularly, in the nooks and cranny of Nigeria by deploying a number of mobile training workshops decked with the state-of-the-art modern equipment tools and facilities in 11 trade areas.
We also proposed something to government which we presented to stakeholders known as National Industrial Skills Development Programme (NISDP) which is an aspect of the national industrial development plan for the Federal Ministry of Trade and Investment.
This plan envisages that we will have industrial skills training centres in the 36 states of the federation and Abuja. And in each of these centres we have provision for training people in 24 trade areas. We have also made provision in this plan for Centres for Advance Skills Training for Employment (CASTE) and these are bigger centres that have provision for about 45 trade areas and these will be located in the six geo-political zones of the country.
What role if any, is ITF playing in national economy, most especially, the Transformation Agenda?
The ITF is one of the major parastatals of the Federal Government. It is one of the organisations being used by the Federal Government to achieve the transformation agenda of this administration. If you look at the ITF, and the Act establishing it, you realize it has the responsibility to provide, promote, and encourage the acquisition of skills in commerce and industry, with a view to generating the manpower sufficient to meet the needs of the Nigerian economy. And you are aware that, over time, the ITF has been performing this function.
It is a harsh life for Nigeria’s child brides; besides the trauma of protracted labour on bodies too young to birth a child, the death of the child and severity of injuries sustained during labour, the child bride loses her role as wife and mother. This loss is nothing compared to the trauma of ostracism and betrayal she suffers by her parents and other family members, writes OLATUNJI OLOLADE, Assistant Editor
A victim of child marriage
Just off the highway that leads to Kubwa, an Abuja outskirt, twilight bounds softly on the path to Lima’s spot. Lima, in skintight pants and transparent sari, sits in a corner of an open bar. Unlike the other girls, she does not loiter too close to the entrance, neither does she try so hard to gain the attention of every male patron; she tries not to be too obvious.
“I am not a common prostitute…I don’t parade myself like bad tomato,” she explains. There is something instructive in her analogy of the “bad tomato.” It puts in a nutshell, the realities that shape the life of the 17-year-old divorcee and social outcast.
Lima’s predicament began eight years ago in Danjida, Kano State. Just before she clocked10, her mother told her that she would be escorting her to a traditional family festival; the party was allegedly organised by the family’s elders for pretty young girls like Lima, as an initiation into womanhood. The nine-year-old was ecstatic; she was going to be a woman and, according to her mother, she would receive a lot of expensive gifts from her family friends and relatives.
The evening before the event, Lima and her mother departed from their Kawaje neighbourhood for a large compound in Danjida, her ancestral homeland, where they sat all night with her first cousins, distant cousins and other girls whom she could barely recognise. The girls waited expectantly and watched with admiration as their mothers chatted animatedly and danced to the drumbeats.
They were there all night but at the first streak of daylight, Lima’s paternal aunt, Aunt Sajida, emerged from the backyard to lead her to her fate. “She told me not to cry and urged me to do our family proud. She said if I did, I would get a lot of gifts and grow to become a very beautiful woman,” says Lima.
The nine-year-old followed her aunt sheepishly to the backyard. there, she was led into a dark room occupied by two women. According to her, no sooner did she enter than the women grabbed her hands and held her in a tight grip, one of them locking her legs and the other her arms. While she struggled with terror and an intense foreboding of what was to come, a third woman entered the room and lifted her wrapper. As Lima was struggling, her pant was practically torn off; then she felt excruciating pain. Blood gushed from her private part and cascaded her legs. In seconds, Lima (who clocked 10 years overnight) passed out.
By the time she woke up, she had undergone the gishiri cut (circumcision) and has thus become a woman by cultural standards. But nobody told her of the pain; after her circumcision, the women sewed up her private part without anaesthesia, thus causing her great pains and she bled continuously from the wound. Panic-stricken, her mother and aunt screamed repeatedly at the women who circumcised her and the latter ran helter-skelter to stop the bleeding.
Eventually, somebody brought some black powder and applied it on the wound, but it only caused her to smart and squirm some more. Lima bled the whole day and as she cried, her mother and aunt applied the black powder intermittently on the wound, causing her more pain. “I could not pee. Every time I tried to, I felt intense pain in my genitals,” says Lima, adding that she fell ill from the wound over a long period.
The following year, Lima was forcefully married to 76-year old Baba Ahmadu, her father’s best friend in a hastily contrived marriage ceremony. The details, she says, were unclear to her but she remembers that money changed hands between her father and her husband. The first time she had sex with her husband, there was a lot of trouble; Lima lied to him that she needed to pee and thereby fled to her parents’ house but her father ordered her brothers to return her to her husband. “My mother slapped me and issued me a stern warning not to disgrace her. Then my brothers tied my hands and flogged me with horsewhip,” she discloses.
They delivered her at the tender age of 11 to her husband, feet and hands bound and legs held firmly apart so he could consummate the marriage. Before the consummation, an elderly woman whom Lima identifies as her husband’s younger sister came in to undo the stitches sewn on her genitals after her circumcision. Lima had to go through this without any form of anaesthesia, hence she was in great pains. Then her brothers held her in position for her husband to mount her.
“I was already in great pain and I bled profusely before he mounted me. I begged my brothers to release me; I pleaded with them to stop holding me down for Baba Ahmadu but they turned deaf ears. They kept telling me to shut up and looked away. After he (her husband) finished, I saw him dip his hands into his pocket and give them (her brothers) N1,000,” recollects Lima with a sob.
The next day, her Aunt Mariam came visiting and tearfully, Lima recounted to her, her gruesome experience in the hands of her husband but to her horror, the latter patted her on the back and told her to cooperate with her husband. “She said I was no longer a child and that the more I struggled with him, the greater disgrace I bring upon our family. She said our ancestors would curse me if I did not stop disgracing our family…when I told her that my genitals bleed and hurt me badly, she said if I relax the next time my husband lies with me, the pain would stop and the wound will heal quicker,” says Lima.
But the pain never stopped nor did the wound heal quickly as her aunt assured her. Lima claims she felt violated and hurt every time her husband had sex with her and for a week, she could not stand or walk upright. “I could not sit down or walk upright because of the pain. I hated my husband more every time he slept with me. He virtually forced himself on me and he was very rough. Eventually, I became pregnant in two months,” she says.
However, due to complications from protracted labour, Lima’s baby died at birth and she suffered a severe case of obstetric fistula. At the onset of the disease – vesico vaginal fistula (VVF) or obstetric fistula – Lima’s husband abandoned her. She says: “He took me to the clinic and abandoned me there. He said I was destroying his home with urine and faeces. Then he sent my belongings to my parents. He said he was no longer interested in marrying me. He said I had brought him agony and bad luck.”
To her chagrin, her parents sent her belongings to her at the hospital. According to her, “They sent my eldest brother to give them to me with a sum of N900. He told me that I was not expected back home since I had brought shame on my family. He said my father had chased mother out of the house and spat at me.”
It took Lima two years and a month before she got cured and when she did, she departed for the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Abuja, by the assistance of a nurse. The latter handed her over to a childhood friend who purportedly runs a food canteen in Kubwa, Abuja. With gratitude and optimism, Lima departed Kano for Abuja with her benefactress. But the truth didn’t dawn on her until she got to Abuja; there was no waitress job waiting for her at a food canteen, rather she was forced to squat in a tiny room at the back of her benefactress’ makeshift beer parlour in Kubwa. There, she survives by hawking sex for money, even as you read.
Lima says things are looking up for her; four months ago, her Madame granted her the freedom to entertain her own clients between 5 a.m. and 3.30 p.m. every day. Notwithstanding her predicament, Lima says: “I don’t fling myself at any man. I am not some cheap prostitute. I respect myself,” she says with the coolness of a sex worker who knows that patronage may be acquired by more discreet measures, like elegance and stubborn pride.
A suicide mission
A visit to Lima’s hometown heralds a pilgrimage of sort; the whereabouts of Lima’s mother and eldest brother is unknown and her father, Audu, currently grapples with old age. He suffers fecal and urinal incontinence brought about by age; he urinates and defaecates where he sleeps and his body is riddled with bedsores. None of the three wives he married after Lima’s mother stays with him. “they all deserted him as his condition worsened and it became clear that he lacks the means to cater for his household,” reveals Saidattu Mohammed, a bean and corn syrup seller who claims to be responsible for the 89-year old’s breakfast and supper every day. “Nobody pays me for what I do. I do it for God,” she claims.
Despite his predicament, the 89-year old betrays no love for Lima neither does he feel contrition for the way he treated her. His eyes widened and he got very agitated when the reporter revealed that he had spoken to Lima. Idrissu, a gangly youth, presumably in his mid-20s who identified himself as Lima’s immediate elder brother, ushered me out of their compound, muttering curses under his breath. According to my guide, any attempt to stay longer would have ended disastrously.
Five cows for a daughter
Like Lima, Hamida suffered the raw end of the deal from her husband and family. Hamida, 18, sells fruits at the Mararaba orange market in Nasarrawa. But that is her day job; at night, Hamida joins two of her friends at a popular roadside bar in Utaku, Abuja. At the back of the bar, she changes into tight-fitting blouse and skimpy skirt. Then she stands by the roadside to beckon on would-be patrons for ‘short-time’ sex or ‘till-day-break’ romp.
The 18-year-old’s journey to infamy began six years ago on a quiet afternoon in Kajuru, Kaduna State. According to her, she was just starting to heal from circumcision ritual when her mother and eldest sister, a widow, sat her down to inform her that they had accepted a marriage proposal on her behalf.
“When I protested that I was too young for marriage and that I would rather go to school, my mother told me that education is not meant for a cultured and dutiful daughter. Immediately, I rushed to ask my father why he did that. I told him he wouldn’t do that, if he truly loved me but he brought out a whip and started flogging me. He said he had accepted five cows for my hand. It was the first time my father flogged me in two years…I begged him not to marry me off, I cried that the marriage will kill me but he said I had become wayward and threatened to disown me if I failed to obey his wish,” reveals Hamida.
Eventually, she did her parent’s bidding and Hamida got married to Usman, a 65-year-old cow dealer at the age of 12. After the wedding, the newlywed relocated to Jibiya, Katsina State, where Usman sold cows. However, the matrimony was never as heavenly as Hamida’s mother assured her it would be.
“I had two senior wives and life with them was hellish. None of them had ever gotten pregnant and the fact that I got pregnant one month into my marriage made them hate me. They taunted me endlessly, claiming that I had charmed their husband and that God will deal with me…Eventually, their wishes came true; when I went into labour, my husband had travelled on a business trip, hence my senior wives invited a local midwife and abandoned me with her.
“They didn’t care that I had complications. The midwife said my waist was too tiny to birth a child and I had lost too much blood. After three days of painful labour, I was delivered in my room. I was there for about three days. I experienced serious pains and bled continuously. My baby never cried; I tried to breast feed him but he refused to feed. His breathing was barely audible. Worried by his state, the midwife prepared some herbal concoction and forced it down his throat; this caused his stomach and the left side of his chest to become distended.
“They said it was his heart that got bloated. At this point, the midwife stopped coming. When I sent a neighbour’s child to find her, they said she had travelled…Eventually my neighbours helped me to the hospital. When I got there, my son was confirmed dead. He died on the day that we were supposed to have his naming ceremony. While I cried, the doctor told me that I was very sick and they referred me for further treatment at the big hospital in Babbar Ruga (Babbar Ruga Vesico Vaginal Fistula (VVF) Centre in Katsina State). By that time, I was defaecating and urinating all over my body. The doctor and the nurses covered their noses and mouths while they attended to me.
“More painful was the fact that my husband at his arrival from his business trip, came to inform me that he was divorcing me. He accused me of killing his child and told me never to set foot in his house again. My mother came to see me in Babbar Ruga but she only came to give me two wrappers and N2,000. She said I should try to beg my husband and get back into his house. She said no one would welcome me back into my father’s house,” recollects Hamida.
After undergoing corrective surgery at Babbar Ruga, Hamida relocated to Abuja with two of her friends. Today, she survives by petty trade in fruits at daytime and a nocturnal trade in sex for money.
VVF patient dripping with urine
Customary disaster
The plight of Lima and Hamida illustrates the stark misery characteristic of the world of many child brides in the country. By its magnitude, VVF is a major public health problem in Nigeria. Prevalence estimations range from as low as 100,000 to as much as 1,000,000 cases. Health experts, however, quote 400,000 to 800,000 even as Dutch surgeon, Dr. Kees Waaldijk, who has worked with the Nigerian government in the past 25 years, to end fistula through his direction of the Nigeria National Fistula Programme, states firmly that the backlog is 200,000 to a maximum 250,000 patients.
The incidence is estimated at 20,000 new cases a year; while 90 per cent are untreated. This implies that about 55 women are infected by VVF and 18,000 cases are untreated daily. It is estimated that two million women suffer from obstetric fistula globally. In Nigeria alone, the north has over 85 per cent of these cases. The vast majority of VVF is caused by obstructed labour, gishiri (circumcision) cut and obstetrical trauma.
Fistula, the Latin word for “pipe,” is an “abnormal passage” between organs —in this case, between the vagina and the bladder, the rectum, or both. The hole makes the woman uncontrollably incontinent of urine or feces or both and transforms a healthy person into a leaking, reeking, “cesspit,” in the words of Lima.
Obstetric fistula results from obstructed labour, which occurs when the baby cannot pass through the mother’s birth canal because it either does not come head first or is too large for her pelvis. Prompt medical intervention, often including Caesarean section, permits a delivery safe for both mother and child. But thousands of times each year across the country, birthing women receive no such aid and their labour is a futile agony lasting between three and five days, with uterine contractions constantly forcing the baby, usually head first, against unyielding pelvic bone.
The unremitting pressure usually kills the child and prevents blood supply to the soft tissues of the vagina and other organs trapped between the baby’s skull and her pelvis. Eventually these tissues also die, forming one or more fistulas and the baby’s head softens sufficiently for the stillborn child to pass from her body. Should she survive, the mother soon finds urine, faeces or both leaking unstoppably from her vagina.
In about a fifth of cases, the woman also suffers nerve injury that can cause a condition called footdrop, which prevents normal walking. Constant contact with urine or faeces irritates and infects her skin and other tissues. Her kidneys, bladder, or other nearby organs may also be damaged. Her menstrual periods may stop, rendering her infertile.
If Lima and Hamida’s experiences are more favourable than most, their years of destitution and social banishment are disturbingly typical. The Nation findings reveal that the majority of VVF sufferers are abandoned by their families, divorced by their husbands, and forced to fend for themselves, often by begging, menial jobs and prostitution.
Hopeful interventions
Nigeria has a long-standing history of fistula repair: Dr. Sr. Ann Ward was Consultant Obstetrician and Gynaecologist and fistula expert and trainer at St. Luke’s Hospital, Anua, Akwa Ibom State. She recently retired after a 40-year career. She also was in charge of the vesico-vaginal fistula treatment at nearby Itam. However, the acceleration of surgical interventions began with the arrival in Katsina in 1983 of Dr. Kees Waaldijk, a plastic surgeon from the Netherlands. He came primarily to repair the leprosy patients but quickly devoted his energy exclusively to fistula repair and training.
In the early 90s, the National Foundation on VVF was created with Dr. Waaldijk as the leading surgeon. With the commencement of the Campaign to End Fistula nationwide, fistula repair in Nigeria progressed in higher gear. An extra boost for advocacy as well as repair was given through an event that still is the referral activity: the organisation of the Fistula Fortnight in four Northern states in 2005.
Currently, there are approximately 20 centres providing VVF treatment on a regular basis in the country. According to Dr. Waaldijk, 11 of these centres are part of the National VVF Project. By 2008, the National VVF Project had performed a total 25,000 VVF/RVF repairs and related interventions since its inception.
The exact number of fistula repairs carried out annually in Nigeria is, however, unknown. Most VVF treatment centres collect information on the number of interventions carried out, but recording and reporting is incomplete and non-systematic. A centralised recording and reporting system is not in place either. It is, however, estimated that approximately some 2,000 to 4,000 fistula repairs are done every year.
But even as studies enumerate anatomical, matrimonial, and demographic factors that increase risk, experts emphasize that the basic reason for fistulas lies not in women’s bodies, social lives, or diet alone, but in the failure of health systems to provide the resources needed to ensure safe childbirth. Many studies lay “undue emphasis…on early marriage as the aetiology of the disease,” states Dr. Mohammed Kabir of Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital in Kano. According to him, the lack of skilled supervision, of childbirth and adequate emergency facilities are to blame.
Further findings reveal that the prevalence of obstetric fistula is embedded in a complex network of social issues, including socio-cultural perceptions of the status of women, the distribution and availability of health care resources, perceptions about the nature and importance of maternal health problems, and the social, economic and political infrastructures of affected societies.
“Three stages of delay,” according to medical experts, prevent victims from get-
ting the help they deserve. First, embarrassment, tradition, cost or misplaced optimism delays the realization that labour has gone awry. Second, distance, bad roads, or lack of a vehicle delay the journey to a clinic or hospital where the situation could probably have been salvaged. Finally, crowding, understaffing, or lack of resources may delay the needed services when the woman finally arrives at the clinic. A Caesarean section performed within the first 48 hours of labour will generally prevent fistula, although it may not save the baby.
An affliction of the poor?
Fatimatu Saliu, a Zaria-based nurse and social worker, argues that a greater percentage of VVF patients usually fall within the low income and impoverished economic divide. “You hardly see the rich marrying their underage daughters off for money. Many of the victims come from poor homes and their parents marry them off at a tender age for economic gain,’’ she says.
One perception too many
Marriage historians have noted that it will take more than a couple of decades to rewrite a marital playbook that is thousands of years old. The institutions of child marriage are a remnant of medieval marital culture. Men who practise these types of antiquated marriages adamantly resist and reject contemporary notions of marriage as a partnership of equals based upon mutual love and free-will. The practices of child marriage rely upon the historical, social and cultural assumptions and beliefs that support marriage as an economic transaction, whereby a woman or girl, is merely an object for exchange between one man and another.
These practices inflict great harm upon women and girls. According to Milda Okonedo, a social psychologist, it traps young girls in relationships that deprive them of their childhood and education while making them vulnerable and at risk for abuse, disease and even death; this impact negatively on the woman they eventually become.
Nigerian VVF patients waiting for treatment at a local VVF centre
Social constructions of the child bride
As a married partner, her new social set is supposed to be other married women, but being a mere child, most of these women will be older and not likely to be an easy social fit. Consequently, married girls straddle two worlds and frequently find that they are alone and isolated in their new marital homes. For instance, interviews with victims reveal that they are isolated and under the control of their husbands and co-wives. Their isolation compounds their diminished access to information and services, making them not easily reached by conventional mechanisms such as youth centers or peer education.
The federal Government has attempted to outlaw child marriage. In 2003 it passed the Child Rights Act, prohibiting marriage under the age of 18. But to correct the anomaly, Janet Essiet, a Kano-based lawyer and ‘women’s rights activist’ suggests more government interventions at the grassroots. “Research findings persistently reveal that child marriage is perpetrated mostly among impoverished folks in the country’s rural areas. The government needs to make its presence felt at these local levels. Government could bolster its efforts by improving agricultural support and facilitating more income-generating opportunities for many families at the grassroots. If parents can adequately cater for their children’s needs, they won’t be forced to marry them off at ridiculous prices for survival,” she says.
The government also needs to cooperate with non-governmental organisations (NGOs) committed to the eradication of the problem, argues Zulaykha Habib, a guidance counsellor and owner of Muslim Sisters Development Foundation. “Efforts should be geared to sensitise parents on the need to delay their daughters’ marriage and instead pursue their educational and psychosocial development,” she advises.
Higher levels of education significantly decrease the risk of child marriage, with secondary education, especially strong in stalling age at marriage until a girl is 18 years or older. Governments and NGOs fighting against child marriage may focus on education and making parents aware of the benefits of allowing their daughters go to school. They need to know that education provides alternatives for their daughters that can lead to employment, earnings and an economic future that will benefit not only their daughters, but their family and community as well.
But as the government and other stakeholders return to the drawing board, they will do well to include severely damaged and disillusioned divorcees and former child brides like Hamida and Lima in their loop of schemes. “Leaving such kids to their devices forebodes greater doom for them and the society at large. The misery and disillusionment they feel destroys their psychology and inflicts upon them a jaded view of the entire world. They have lost hope in the society and average human’s capacity to be good. This is a horrific way to see the world, particularly for teenagers and future mothers,” argues Okonedo.
Okonedo couldn’t be too far from the truth; a journey through Lima’s mind for instance reveals world-weariness characteristic of the aged who considers hope inconsequential after suffering through many tragic disappointments in her lifetime.
Lima hurts severely every time she remembers her first time in the dimly lit room where Aunt Mariam hushed her to sleep with promises of pleasure and folk song. Aunt Mariam had been sent in to calm her after she got restless and hysterical at the prospect of ‘lying’ with Baba Ahmadu, 76, her father’s best friend.
Aunt Mariam was convincing: venomous threats and thinly veiled lies leapt from her lips in measured cadence; the effect was frightening, it kept Lima from screaming and attempting further escape from the dark room. Although she eventually escaped, seven years on since the sad incident, she is still in the dark room.
It would appear that the lifestyle of the girl-about-town, Leah Abiara, has been reshaped by marriage. The controversial daughter of Pastor S. K. Abiara of the Christ Apostolic Church got married late in 2011 to Ibadan big boy, Omotunde Nero, much to the relief of family and friends.
The claim that marriage imposes a lot of responsibility on people appears to have found complete expression with Leah. She has not only adopted a quiet lifestyle since she got married, there are also speculations that she may turn fully to God and follow in the footsteps of her father in no distant future.
Before she got married, Leah was always in the news for the wrong reasons. It was so bad that her father appeared to have given up on her fast-paced lifestyle. Now happily married, the leggy Ibadan socialite has been keeping it so low that she is getting off the social scene.
Not a few would agree that Shina Peller’s grip on the social scene in Nigeria has more to do with his very deep pocket than his family background. Shina is the son of the late Prof. Abiola Peller. That the former, who has been resident in the United Kingdom for many years, is extremely wealthy is like stating the obvious. His flamboyant lifestyle is more than enough proof of his vast means.
A favourite of many musicians who have sung his praises, Peller further entrenched himself in the social circle when he acquired a part of De Luxe, a famed retreat established by Abiola Adegoke.
Celeb Watch gathered that Shina, who is also the Chairman of Aquilla Oil and Gas, is currently working on a night club intended to be the biggest in Lagos. The new fun spot, Quilox Restaurant and Bar, is sited on Ozumba Mbadiwe Street, Victoria Island, Lagos. Informed sources told Celeb Watch that the new fun spot would be commissioned before the Yuletide period.
It is indeed a happy time for the National Coordinator of Oodua People’s Congress (OPC), Otunba Gani Adams, and his family. The OPC strongman added another feather to his cap on Monday, November 18, when HRM Oba Oyefusi Salawudeen, the Ayangburen of Ikoroduland, conferred on him and his wife, the title of Akinrogun and Yeye Akinrogun of Ikoroduland.
With the title, it seems it is Aluta continua for Adams, who promised the large crowd that attended the ceremony to continue in his quest to “ensure that the Yoruba race is not relegated to the background in Nigeria.”
Among the dignitaries that added colour to the event were the Ikorodu Council of Chiefs, Comrade Debo Adeniran, Comrade Jubril Ogundimu and Otunba LAM Afolabi Gbadamosi, among others.
Popular fuji act, Sefiu Alao, treated guests at the event to scintillating music, as the guests danced late into the night.
Three years after the former Broad Street colonial prison was transformed from an old and abandoned prison to a place for relaxation called Freedom Park, Okorie Uguru visited there and relates his experience.
The irony of a place of repression and curtailment of man’s freedom by the state becoming a Freedom Park, a place that gives full rein to man’s creative freedom, has always appealed to me since it was opened. That was the thought running through my mind as I made my way to the Freedom Park in Marina.
It is one of the few tourist and leisure sites in the country that impact one with a deep sense of history, appreciate the whole gamut of art and still not compromising the aesthetics and the leisure content of the complex.
The uniform of the attendant at the gate brought vividly some of the old black and white pictures of colonial law enforcement agents to mind. The long dark grey knickers complemented by the double-breasted khaki shirt with bibs, the normal security forces mode of attire.
What was missing to complete the dressing was the long round cap or something close to that. But the first impression of trying to take any visitor back to the Nigeria’s pre-colonial era is from the walls of the park.
There are still the ancient red burnt bricks that although had been hardened by years, are still standing.
The attendant at the gate collected the sum of N200 and issued a ticket. Just by my right, loud rap music was blaring from a speaker.
A group of teenagers, five in number, three boys and two girls, were practising some dance steps. It was an admixture of intricate steps, a kind of robotic movement mix with swivelling acrobatic display.
Just beside where they were dancing is an inscription: Prison Cell Block C. About three years ago, when I visited the park when it had just opened, the greenery unfolded before my eyes was not as lush as what I was seeing.
The model cells just facing the entrance used to have a kind of bright sunlight inside , but this has been covered by ornamental plants. Except for the small size of the cells, many might volunteer to be offered these prison rooms for accommodation. Some of the staff of the park could be seen putting together plastic chairs and reclining on them to have a rest.
On the way to the amphitheatre, there is an ancient tree with some of the chains used for prisoners by colonial warders. There is also a fountain gushing out water. The geese stable is further down. There is a mart with rows of shops.
There are bars displaying choice wine, beer and non-alcoholic drink. As I passed through a shop,the aroma of food was in the atmosphere. I then looked in. At the back of the shop which is a kitchen, a male chef was preparing a meal. He was manipulating and waving the greenish rice. If one could judge by the aroma, it would be a delightful culinary experience to dine there. Although it was on a Wednesday, canopies were being set for a programme. Behind is the main theatre. There were no activities going on there. It used to be a place for condemned criminals in the colonial prison, but now an arena that gives wings to creative imagination.
However, for me, the biggest addition to the Freedom Park in the last three years are the works of art commissioned by the Omooba Yemi Shyllon Foundation. The works are statues painted black with fibre class as the medium. They are almost life-size statues that capture the Nigerian way of life from different ethnic groups of the country.
A Northen flutist blowing kaakaki, a kind of royal flute to announce the presence of royalty; a woman displaying her kolaunts in a wooden bowl; a blacksmith working on a material; and an appreciative Urhobo groom with his in-laws. There are others in the park that take one on an imaginary trip to different parts of the country.
So, within the Freedom Park, one could see and experience history, the creative imagination of some of Nigerian leading artists and have an experience of the culture of the country. Prince Yemi Shyllon, an art patron and one of the avid collectors of works of art in the country must be commended for deepening further the mental and physical experience of visiting the Freedom Park.
The park is located on the site of the colonial prison where prominent Nigerians had their jail terms during the colonial era. The park, which is now a peaceful place for individual and collective contemplation and interaction, is open to the public daily.
The park is a brainchild of a Lagos-born architect and visionary, Theo Lawson.He transformed the colonial prison to a symbol of freedom.
This prison was used by the British colonial masters to torture, imprison and hang those who opposed the colonial rule in Nigeria, including Herbert Macaulay, Chief Cbafemi Awolowo, Chief Michael Imodu, Sir Adeyemo Alakija and others.
Freedom Park is a memorial leisure park to preserve the Lagos colonial heritage and history of the old Broad Street prison.
Even though it be a cross that raiseth me, nearer my God to thee, nearer to thee “. There is no denying the fact that the foregoing line of a popular hymn is having more than a soothing effect on the life of Elizabeth Atuche. From the way events are playing out, it appears that the beautiful lady has chosen close affinity to the Almighty as the only way out of the emotional stress she is passing through.
The wife of former Managing Director of Bank PHB, Francis Atuche, has suffered some hard knocks occasioned by her husband’s travails, which have forced to flee her comfort zone in the party arena for church. Today, Elizabeth is an ardent church attendant.
She is even said to have deserted the friends with whom she painted the town red when her husband held sway as the MD of the defunct Bank PHB.
WHEN it comes to wardrobe and fashion, many guys don’t realize that clothing does indeed “make the man.” What you wear is just as important to others as to yourself. To be taken seriously in today’s society, a first impression does matter significantly.
If you want to be noticed favourably by both women and men, here are some basic fashion and style tips to help you dress up to your potential. Keep in mind that the most expensive clothing line won’t flatter you, if you slouch. Stand up straight and carry yourself with pride. If you respect yourself, others will too.
It wasn’t just my mother who was opposed to my union with Frank. Expectedly, his wife did not want anything to do with me and swore that it would be over ‘her dead body for her to share her home with that husband snatcher’ as she referred to me.
But I was not concerned about her for Frank had assured me, he would sort things out with her. It was my mother that bothered me more. She remained adamant in her opposition to my marrying Frank. She distanced herself from the marriage preparations and refused to play her role as the mother of the bride-to-be. I felt bad at her attitude, seeing her as a bad mother who did not want her child’s happiness. ‘Enemy of progress,’ I grumbled to myself on several occasions.
To make matters worse, on the day Frank and his people came to my house for the engagement and payment of the dowry, my mother was no where to be found. She simply disappeared! It was one of my aunties, her younger sister who stood in for her as the bride’s mother.
The ceremony went well, however and Frank and I became man and wife. I immediately moved into my new home with my husband and a new life began for me. What about his first wife, you might wonder. Well, the woman had in anger, moved out of her matrimonial home with her daughter. Frank told me that she had declared she would rather stay under the bridge than share her home with me.
To me, it was ‘good riddance to her’ and I happily took over the house as the new ‘madam.’ By this time, I was already about six months pregnant. A month before my due date to deliver, Frank sent me abroad to stay and prepare for the birth. It was there I had my beautiful baby boy whom Frank named Philip after his father who was late.
To mark the birth of his much longed for son, Frank threw a lavish party at our home on my return from the U.K. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. I felt so happy, so proud as I held my baby in my arms, with the numerous guests trooping in to congratulate me and drop money and gifts for the baby.
As for my husband, his love for me seemed to have increased a hundredfold and he couldn’t do enough for me. He gave me so many gifts including some very expensive jewelry. And to top it up, he bought me a house. I was at home one day, nursing the baby when he arrived from the office with a large brown envelope which he dropped by my seat.
“What’s this?” I asked, looking at him curiously.
“Why don’t you open it and see,” he replied, smiling as he sat in a nearby chair.
I hurriedly opened it and when I saw the deeds to the property in my name, I almost dropped the baby out of shock.
“Hey, careful! Don’t drop my little boy,” he said, coming over to take the baby from me. He had fallen asleep so Frank placed him in his little crib.
“Oh, Frank! Is this really for me? So, I’m a landlady now! Thanks so much, honey! I really love you…!” I said excitedly, going over to hug him so tight, he jokingly said I should stop before ‘I broke his bones!’
Losing my baby
Little Phillip was about two years old when the tragedy that turned my otherwise happy life upside down occurred. We had a swimming pool behind the house as Frank loved to swim. Though I could swim, I preferred sitting by the poolside in a deck chair with a cold drink, watching as he frolicked in the water with a friend or two that usually came over at weekends to hang out with him.
That day, I was alone in the house as my husband had gone to work. I went down to the pool, not to swim but just sit and read a magazine. Later, Phillip, who had been taking a nap upstairs woke up and the maid brought him down to join me. I played for a while with my baby then went into the house to do something, I can’t remember now. The maid was with Phillip so I felt he was safe.
Some minutes later, I heard a piercing scream and abandoning what I was doing ran quickly downstairs. It was a horrible sight that met my eyes: my precious son had drowned in the pool!
From the incoherent statement the sobbing maid made, I gathered she had left him briefing to get something from the kitchen and he had fallen into the pool in her absence.
I could remember screaming and shouting, and I was even ready to drown along with him if I had not been restrained by one of our drivers who was around. Though he quickly rushed the boy to the hospital, it was too late. He was already dead!
I was grief-stricken and nothing anybody said could console me. I wept all day and refused to eat. But even in my grief at losing our son, I could see the effect on my husband. He took the boy’s death badly. For days and even weeks after, he would stay in his room drinking and listening to very sad, melancholy music.
When my family heard about what happened, my father came to see me without my mother. Two of my siblings were with him. My mother’s absence showed she was still angry with me over my choice of a husband. I felt bitter that she could not even put the past behind and come to see me in my time of distress.
Later, we recovered somewhat from the tragedy and forged on with our lives. Before my son died, I had discovered I was pregnant again and the doctor, our friends and family kept reminding of that- that I needed to be strong for the new life growing in me.
I had a baby girl some months later. We were happy for the new arrival in our home and I was hopeful that things would return to the state they were before we lost our son. Three years later, I gave birth again, to twin girls. Though my husband tried to hide it, I could see he was not too happy that I had had girls again. He had so desperately wanted a son, another boy that would take Phillip’s place.
•To be continued next week
•Send comments/advice/suggestions to psaduwa@yahoo.com, psaduwa007@gmail.com or 08023201831. The best feedback will be published soon!
•Names have been changed to protect Nichole’s identity and other individuals in the story
I consoled myself with the fact that I was still young and fertile enough to have more children especially sons. I was ready to do anything in my quest to give my husband male issues as I felt instinctively that our future happiness depended on it. I confided my worries to one of my aunties and she promised to help. She said she knew a powerful man of God, a prophet who could help ‘turn my womb so I can only give birth to sons.’
One day, she took me to this man who prayed for me and applied some funny smelling ointment on my stomach. He assured me that my womb would only produce males from then on.
I believed him so much that when I became pregnant again some time later, I bought clothes for a baby boy. So, you could imagine my disappointment when I had another girl. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughters and I think the world of them. But we live in a society where the male child is highly sought after and a woman who can’t give her husband males is deemed a failure, one who has not fully fulfilled her role as a wife.
This time around, when Frank heard I had given birth to another girl, he did not even bother to show up at the hospital. It was one of my elder brothers who came to pay the bills and take me and the baby home. And it was two days after, that he came home from wherever he had gone to. I noticed immediately that he was quite withdrawn. He did not show interest in me or the baby unlike in my previous deliveries.
I tried to find out what was the matter, but he refused to say anything. Then one day, he simply flared up when I asked him to help me keep an eye on the baby while I took a quick shower.
“Am I now your baby nurse that I should carry the baby? Take her with you or leave her there! Don’t bother me!” he said.
“But Frank, what’s wrong with your helping me with the baby? She’s your daughter afterall!” I pointed out.
“Yes! She’s my daughter and that’s the problem! There are just too many of them! You think I married you to fill my house with girls? Woman, you better wake up to your responsibilities or else…! with that he picked up his car keys and hurriedly left the house.
I knew I had to give him a son or my marriage would be in jeopardy. But try as I could, I could not conceive again. It was as if my womb just closed up. Worse still, my relationship with my husband continued to deteriorate. Before, he would come home straight from work as soon as he closed to spend time with me. Now, I hardly saw him. Sometimes, he would stay out for days and return without explanations. To keep the peace in our home, I did not ask questions about where he had been.
Later, I started hearing stories of his escapades with other women outside. A friend of mine even saw him at a swanky hotel in town one day with a lady and told me how he was all over her. I ignored all these stories and focused on taking care of my children, all the while praying that God would remember me and give me a son.
Things got worse, however. We had been together for about seven years when Frank simply walked out on me one day. I had gone out that day and returned to see him dragging some suitcases downstairs. His driver was standing nearby to help load the bags in the boot of his jeep outside.
“Where are you going, Frank? You didn’t tell me you were traveling,” I stated, eyeing the bags.
“As you can see, I’m leaving,” he said shortly.
“What do you mean, leaving? To where?” I asked, my heart beating fast with fear probably.
“Can’t you get it? I’m going away! I’m leaving you! And for your own good, don’t bother looking for me!” he said, as he moved outside to the car park. I followed quickly, shocked at the turn of events. I knew we were having problems but not to the extent of abandoning me and his family. How could he?
I was not ready to lose my husband so going down on my knees, I pleaded with him to reconsider.
“Please, Frank, you can’t do this to me! Don’t go, honey! Think of the children! They need you. And I can’t live without you!”
But he ignored my pleadings and hurriedly getting into his car, drove away. It’s been over a year now and I have not set eyes on my husband. We only speak on phone when he calls to enquire about the children. I’ve pleaded and sent people to him to give me another chance but he remains adamant. Worse, I heard he has started living with another lady in one of his other properties in town and he is planning to marry her.
To be fair to him, he still takes care of us by giving me money for our upkeep. But that’s not what I want. I want my husband back. Some people might think what happened to me is the law of karma or nemesis considering what happened to Frank’s first wife. Or I should have paid attention to my mother’s advice as they were words of wisdom from an elder. Whatever.
Truth is, I still love and want my husband and I will do anything to get him back. He is not actually a bad person but his obsession for a son has beclouded his judgement. So, what should I do to win him back? Thank you.
What do you think Nicole should do next?
Send comments/advice/suggestions to psaduwa@yahoo.com, psaduwa007@gmail.com or 08023201831. The best feedback will be published soon!
Names have been changed to protect Nichole’s identity and other individuals in the story
ns of child marriage are a remnant of medieval marital culture. Men who practise these types of antiquated marriages adamantly resist and reject contemporary notions of marriage as a partnership of equals based upon mutual love and free-will. The practices of child marriage rely upon the historical, social and cultural assumptions and beliefs that support marriage as an economic transaction, whereby a woman or girl, is merely an object for exchange between one man and another.
