Trespass is illegal everywhere, including Nigeria. Becoming a public nuisance will only worsen the state of your mind. You are the one in charge of the headquarters; don’t belittle yourself by going to fight for or in a branch office. Those who will hail you for doing so are like your followers on social media. They won’t follow you anywhere. You are just momentary entertainment, a short skit to distract everyone from their financial aggro. You are just creating content for the side chic’s neighbours.
Oh yes, they will gather openly on the balcony to sneer or cheer. Their children will watch through the windows. Their maids and drivers will choose that ugly moment to start washing cars, changing tyres or sweeping the compound, just to get a closer look and record the juicy details. There will be noise, plenty of noise, disgraceful cacophony.
In the olden days, the ‘busybodies’ hissed, clapped their hands in derision, tie and retie their wrappers in glee and eventually return to their chores and lives. Not today, when everybody is a content creator and online in-law and counsellor. Their gossipy nature is always camera ready. In seconds, they will whip out their phones, record your weakest moments and follow that with hare-brained advice.
Imagine people whose private pains are worse than yours profiting from your tears. Where they can’t get a clear video, they will get a few lines which they will embellish and exaggerate for good effect. To them, your pain is of no effect. You are just content. Worse part of it all, the internet does not forget. All of us will refer to it 10 years from now. Your children, your in-laws, when those children get married, your employees, when you finally make it in business, will all be able to find the show of shame details, years later, forever.
I am yet to hear a story that ended in praise where a wife went to physically confront another woman in her branch office, her territory. If you have any happy ending story of such, please share. I promise to doctor and use it for all of us to learn from.
From all I’d ever heard and witnessed, the losses to the wife are always huge. Apart from snide remarks and ‘corner-eye’ that the side chic’s neighbours will deploy to appraise her, what else would the combat Madam achieve? They will gather and turn up their noses:
‘Come and see what has befallen your friend’
‘You should have seen how she was thoroughly beaten’
‘I even leant she lost two teeth’
‘The owner of the property has come to take her thing away.’
‘What will she now do?’
‘How will she raise her head in the community?’
Side chics have a way of moving on from scandals like this. Wives have the misfortune of not being able to live it down. The side chic can move to another neighbourhood, while Madam has to go back home to face the consequences of her action by which time her red anger would have simmered down. Of course, the online family will continue to sit on her matter. They will come up with new angles and versions for their analyses. They will keep the scandal alive.
It’s painful to see one’s husband slip away, spending more time (and money) with his side dish. No woman prays for that scenario, but shit happens, babe. Brace up. Brave it. It’s a storm. It will blow over.
An irate wife once decided to disgrace herself and her Pastor husband by storming the church during choir practice to attack the choir leader who she believed was sleeping with her husband. Family scandal, right? Pastor Mrs. grabbed the front of the choir mistress’ kaftan and exposed her nakedness. Phones came on, cameras went on click-click-click and every shameful detail ended up on TikTok in no time. Guess who trended for days? Guess whose husband’s ministry and marriage was shredded. Everything ended in tears, premium tears.
For Biola, the tears were immediate. Driven by blind rage, she took on her husband’s girlfriend on the latter’s turf. Madam was beaten black and blue by the girlfriend and her friends who Madam didn’t figure would be around. They tore her shirt and bundled her back to her husband.
Mero is a big girl side chic. She lives in a luxury bungalow somewhere in Abuja. She knew her man’s wife and the Madam also knew her. So when Mero saw Otunba’s wife through the CCTV that Saturday morning, she knew trouble had arrived.
‘I saw her force her way into the compound, visibly angry. I called my gateman on the intercom to lock the gate and bring me the keys. She followed him into my sitting room and thus began a long venomous tirade. She accused me of a dozen dark sins including using ‘kayamata’ and juju to make her husband hate her. I still can’t explain how I stayed calm that day. Maybe I felt sorry for her or it was because I was too shocked to react and respond.
I just watched her vent. When her anger was spent. She decided to leave but I refused to let her. I grounded her. She shouted, ranted, begged. I called her husband to see me briefly on his way home. I did not let him know the hot drama he was going to walk into.
Both my guy and his wife were shocked, ashamed even. I warned Madam never ever to repeat the nonsense because next time she did, I’d have her taken off my property in handcuffs.
But wait, has any woman been able to rescue her marriage by fighting with the side chic? Sometime, the confrontation emboldens the man to come out of his closet and marry the side dish. Many times, the man roughens up the wife both physically and financially for daring to disgrace him. A few men have been known to move out of the matrimonial home and or move in with the other woman.
It’s painful to see one’s husband slip away, spending more time (and money) with his side dish. No woman prays for that scenario, but shit happens, babe. Brace up. Brave it. It’s a storm. It will blow over. Just don’t let it blow away your home, your self-worth and dignity. Do not let an unfaithful man put you in a padded ward or turn you into a plaything for Facebook and TikTok merchants. There are better, more refined ways to get your man back. Don’t let those two sinners send you into depression, or worst still, an early grave.
•Egbemode (egbemode3@gmail.com)
