What could I do to help? I had taken to buying things for her children. During celebrations, when I bought clothes for my family, I bought for them. I looked in on them at their grandparents place every once in a while, taking various necessities to them. Sometimes, I bring them to my house to stay the weekend. Oh! Such lovely children now left orphaned. How they must have missed their parents. Once when they had come to stay the weekend with me, Sofola, the youngest had come to meet me in the kitchen, clutching her doll.

“Aunty Ronke,” she called me.

“Yes, Sofola my lovely daughter,” I replied.

“Does mum know that Aunty Funke calls us idiots and does not give us any food when we return from school? She says lunch is for lazy people and spoilt kids.”

My heart went out to the little girl who was only five and was in nursery school. Were she alive, Alani would not stand for these. Her own children starved of lunch? Would Alani not pawn her prized wrappers and jewels to make sure her children fed? Oh! AIDS is a terrible thing.

“Don’t worry, Sofola. Mum does not know, but know that the angels of God are watching over you. They will make sure you don’t come to harm. Only try and be a good girl,” I said to her, taking her in my arms and cuddling her for sometime.

God! She was the split image of Alani, bless her soul. I made a mental note to talk to Funke, who is Bayo’s youngest sister. Having not married yet, she was an old maid

Remembering all these, I realized how so vulnerable I was. Would Alani’s fate befall me? Would I not do something? Did not our fathers say that a black goat should be sought when it is yet daylight, before dusk sets in? What do I do? Do I leave my husband? I still love him. Besides, what will I tell the society? It is a man’s world. Society condones a permissive man. People will think me stupid for leaving my husband because I thought he had cheated on me. Will I be able to withstand the stigma associated with being a divorcee? They would say I have left my husband to play the harlot. Women would avoid me lest I snatched their husbands. Men would be wary of me lest I teach their wives the negative attitudes for which I was put away by my husband. How about my children? If I leave them, they would suffer. If I took them with me they would blame me for depriving them of their dad. Besides, how would we survive? I was an ordinary housewife with no means of livelihood except totally depending on my moderately rich husband. Ah! What do I do? How do I battle against vulnerability to AIDS?

                                                      ***

The next morning I paid a visit to Barr. Mrs. Idehen Onalaja, vice president of the Women’s Advocate, an NGO dedicated to the fight for women’s rights. I have seen her on the television many-a-time.

“You are welcome,” she said to me smiling.

Instantly I was put at ease.

“Thank you ma,” I said, sipping at the Pepsi she’d had her secretary bring for me.

She made small talk, narrating the story of a recent case she’d handled in court.

“Men!” she exclaimed, shaking her head angrily.

I was reminded of a newspaper article written about her by the Herald columnist, Mr. Adadevoh. She was accused of being a man-hater and was said to be responsible for the breakup of many homes, encouraging wives to divorce their husbands, and depriving the husbands of their kids whose place was rightfully with their fathers.

“Can you believe it? Twelve years of marriage, yet he was going to send the hapless woman away, empty-handed. The woman, a trained teacher, had given up her career to marry him. He’d been making her life miserable. The only day she’d dared answer back to him, he’d packed a few of her things and thrown her out, keeping for himself the five children of the marriage. All entreaties to take her back fell on deaf ears, as he had already commenced the taking of a new wife,” she concluded, sighing.

“Poor woman,” I sympathized, greatly touched.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Forgive me. I was ranting away. What can I do for you?” she asked, controlling her rage.

Weeping, I told her my story. She listened attentively, not making even the slightest sound. I concluded with:

‘Ah! What do I do? I’m confused.’

She handed me a piece of tissue paper, and spoke sternly, her voice hard.

“Would you say your marriage has irretrievably broken down?”

“No,” I unhesitatingly answered. “I still love Koso… I love him so much!”

“Good,” she said, smiling. “You must know that the life of a divorcee woman in Nigeria is miserable. Better a widow than a divorcee, though none is without its sorrows. The lot of women is bad, very bad,” she said, frowning.

“What do I do now?” I asked, exasperated.

“I don’t know,” she replied, grinning. “Why did you come, anyway?” she asked.

“I’ve heard of how you’ve been helping troubled women. I thought you might be of help,” I answered.

“Well, I do know, for one, that women have a right to the safeguard and control of their sexual and reproductive health. However, how to assert it is a different thing altogether, especially for a married woman,” she mused, thinking hard, her left palm on her chin.

“Hm!” I groaned.

“Where is your husband now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“You mean he’s not returned since he left yesterday?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“This is serious. Experience has shown that once a man starts to dance in another woman’s laps, he’s no longer controllable,” she said.

“Ah!” I began to weep.

“You say you don’t want to leave him?” she asked again.

“Yes,” I replied.

“All right. You must take your destiny in your hands. You must protect yourself,” she said.

She whispered to me what must be done.

“Perfect,” I exclaimed.

                                                            ***

Dr. Nike Osaro adjusted her glasses, “it is a very serious situation,” she mournfully said to Koso, who sat beside me, in her consulting room.

“What’s wrong? … Is she going to die?” Koso asked, holding my hands.

“Well, she certainly would if she gets pregnant again,” the doctor said, her face expressionless. “Your wife has severe hypertension.”

“There’s no problem with that,” Koso said, a bit relieved. “We have three kids already, two boys and a girl. We do not need more children.”

“Well, that’s not the only problem. Your wife’s body system does not tolerate such contraceptives like the pill or IUD. This leaves her at great risk of contracting a pregnancy,” the doctor said.

“What do we do then?” Koso asked, terrified.

“Well, you have to use a condom each time you have sex,” the doctor answered.

“Ah!” Koso groaned.

“koso please,” I begged, talking to him with my eyes, entreating him.

“All right,” he said, shrugging. “My wife is important to me and the children. I shall do as you say.”

“That is good,” the doctor said, smiling at me in a knowing way.

I gave her the thumbs up sign which Koso did not see, and hooked my arms into Koso’s as we headed to the car.