Every time I get up to get dressed after sleeping with this man who is not my husband, this man I seduced into committing this act of momentary pleasure that Allah (SWT) has clearly stated to be amongst His major sins, the shame rises in my stomach. Shame of facing Allah when I pray, my husband, my children, and my parents. Zina is described as one of the major sins but there is always room for tawbah. But do I deserve it? Should I? Because I know how wrong it is but I still persist. Allah says that anyone who conceals their sins from Him out of shame, He will conceal them as well, both in this world and the hereafter. Flaunting one’s sins is considered disrespectful towards Allah. But I am weak; the sin has taken control over me.
It has been six months since this started, and every time the weight of the sin and the accompanying guilt feel heavier. I married at a very young age—barely seventeen—and knew nothing about sex or its pleasures. My husband was older, and sex was seen purely as a religious act to satisfy our most intense desires. So, for me, sex was what it was and I knew nothing better. But then after five children in nine years, my body began to change in a way I did not understand. As I watched more sexually explicit television and got access to social media and its perverted content, I found that I looked at my body in a different way. Every touch when I took a bath felt different—I was finding pleasure points that I never knew existed. Pleasuring myself became an obsession and I did this every day, imagining the hand of a man on my body, tracing and discovering all my pleasure points. Whenever I did this, I was filled with shame, and when I stepped out, I could feel eyes on me, that feeling that everyone knew what I had done.
My husband had stopped having sex with me—it had been over a year since my last child and he barely touched me. Maybe I was too old for him now; he needed a younger woman who had not experienced sex. Maybe he could sense my changes. Then one day he employed Abdullahi as a cleaner in the house. Immediately my body sensed the danger and, looking out the window one day, I saw him washing our clothes. He had no top on, and I could see enough to know he was aroused—which sent me into the bathroom to pleasure myself.
From that day on, I immersed myself in seeking forgiveness from these forbidden thoughts. Allah had become my solace and every day I read the Quran and made du’a for forgiveness. I made sure I was almost always in wudu, but found myself having to make multiple wudu during the day because my body was uncooperative to the control I needed.
I kept trying to get my husband to sleep with me but he always had an excuse, increasing my frustration. I knew I had the right to ask for divorce because when a husband denies his wife without cause, Islam permits her to seek release. But shame held my tongue—what would people say about a divorced woman with five children?
One day everything came to a head. Mallam had travelled and it was a Sunday. Most of the help had the day off, so I usually took my time before coming out of my room. This day I wanted some tea and without thinking. I walked into the kitchen in my nightdress with no underwear. When I opened the door, he was standing there. I saw how his eyes pierced through my night wear with desire.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to get my breakfast.”
“At eleven?”
“I was ironing and forgot the time.”
He quickly picked up his cup of tea and bread and walked out.
But the rush I felt with his eyes on me was unlike anything I had ever felt before. This was more than my hands on my body as I pleasured myself. It was different—this was imagining what he could do to me. The thought made my body shiver in anticipation.
I lay in bed all day, trying to recreate that moment but nothing came close. I picked up a copy of the Hadith to read up on zina, its various forms and the punishments attributed to it. My punishment was worse because I was married, and even though there were no four witnesses as required to condemn me, my body and mind were my witnesses. There were many instances in the Quran where zina is strictly prohibited but Allah also said that if you sincerely repent, He will show mercy. My fear was that my desire might make it difficult to sincerely repent.
One story resonated with me, and it involved the woman who came to the Prophet (PBUH) asking to be punished for committing zina. The Prophet kept sending her away until after she had given birth and weaned the baby, and even during her punishment he asked that her body be covered well so as to protect her modesty even while being stoned. He then led the funeral prayer for her, showing that even in sin, Allah was ever merciful.
I could see that the Prophet (PBUH) had done all he could to provide succour to the woman before the punishment was meted out to her. Could I give myself up to be punished if I committed zina? What shame would that bring to my family and how would I face Allah (SWT) on the Day of Judgement, knowing that I went against His doctrine and committed one of the major sins?
But the desire remained all through the day, and around eleven P.M., when everyone had gone to bed, I asked my guard to call him under the pretense that I was looking for one of my clothes that I had given him to wash. Once he stepped into the house, I stood up and “accidentally” dropped my wrapper. I now stood naked in front of him. He could see that even after five children, my body was still that of a young woman and was still desirable. We looked at each other and when I made no attempt to pick up the wrapper to cover myself, that was the moment of realisation—the trigger. He knew—he must have known since this morning, but this was the confirmation, and given the thrill of the moment and the fear we might get caught, he was deep inside me before I knew it. The moment we were joined together was different, unlike anything I had ever felt—raw, illicit passion that ended in collapse and tears. He quickly got up, got dressed, and left the house. I lay on the floor and cried. What had I done? I had sold my soul for my pleasure. Was it worth it? My body seemed to be telling me it was. I could still feel the tingling in my feet and I began to weep. But even then, my body betrayed me again, a final tremor I could neither welcome nor stop. So, this was what illicit sex looked like—the intensity was indescribable—my body wanted more.
This increased in frequency—in my room, on my bed—and since my husband was in Abuja during the week, it became a constant liaison, no more pretense, just sex. I usually put away all my religious books; even in sin, I knew I had to respect Allah, but every time the intensity of the pleasure had only increased, not diminished. But could this continue? My soul was fighting with my body and for now my body was winning. As he got up to leave, for the first time, he spoke, calling me by my name, “Ramatu, we need to stop this before our sin overwhelms our faith.”
Hearing him call me by my name made it all too real—this was my life, and as the weight of his words hit me, I looked to my prayer mat and tears welled in my eyes, realising that in my moment of desire, I had forgotten to put away my books. I asked him to leave and went into the bathroom, performing the ghusl bath whilst crying uncontrollably. After performing wudu, I prayed two rak’ahs of nafl and cried on my mat for hours, asking my Lord to forgive me. In an instant, I realised that the strongest part of faith was controlling our innermost desires —only then can we find salvation and be closer to Allah.
As I lay on my mat, I realised: I chose secret sin over public dignity. I chose zina over divorce. I must be one of many who have chosen this path of sin over salvation. Whilst the crime is mine to carry, my husband’s neglect had been responsible and he will share in my punishment on the last day when I will testify against him. But that might just be a comfort, for I had a choice and I chose wrongly. On that day, every part of our body will bear witness and testify for or against us and my fear was that mine will have a lot to say against me unless I overcame my desires.
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Image: Ilham Akbar Fauzi Unspash remixed