I was never good at it. I was never good at Marriage. I don’t know too many people who are good at it; still, they tolerate the married life. In spite of all the aches and pains and tribulations and the confining nature of marriage, they endure, they persevere. It is not for me to say, but somehow, I suspect that most people who remain married, in spite of the allied pain and agony, have some form of psychosomatic injury. If not, how else does one explain several years of torture?
I have lived in all the regions of the country, and so I know. I know that in the Nigeria of my youth, divorces were very rare. Because of family reputation and sensibilities, people stayed married. Also, in deference to religious, cultural and economic demands, people stayed married. Especially the women. Most women stayed married even at the risk of their own wellbeing. In fact, women losing their lives or limbs at the hands of their husbands are not unheard of.
A man brings in a second or third wife, yet she remains married; he denies her her human rights, she remains married; he goes on to have kids out of wedlock, she remains married. He may even beat the daylight out of her, still, she remains married. Religion and culture aside, most of these women remain married because of the children. It is as if Nigerian women live just so their children can live and have a joyous and prosperous life.
As with most aspects of the Nigerian life, things are changing. The role and place of women in the society are undergoing changes. It is difficult to calibrate the speed of the change; still, the transformation is observable. As women become more educated, more self-assured, more financially independent, and more liberal in their thinking, they demand and grab the things they think belong to them. They do the things they think are in their best interest — including mind altering sex.
In the olden days, most women just lie there. It was missionary position all the way from their teenage years until menopause and beyond. For most people, sex served two primary purposes: procreation, and tension reliever. Some men also used sex to control their women. By and large, two minutes, six minutes or ten minutes and its all over. Off he goes.
Off he goes into another tent or another compound at a time of his choosing. He may or may not thank her. He may or may not care about her needs and feelings. He may or may not look into her eyes. He may or may not cuddle. He may or may not express his love and affection. Kissing? Heck no, forget it! Foreplay? Oh heavens, hell no! Pregnancy is his main goal and it is what affirms his manliness. Alone with fellow men, he may brag about the frequency and number of his conquests.
More so since the tail end of the twentieth century, things began to change for the Nigerian women. Men are generally slower than women when it comes to change. Most often, you have to take the men by hand; you have to lead them, stroke their egos, and explain to them that it is in their best interest to change. In public, they may be brash and arrogant and loud and may even thump their chest. Don’t panic! Such actions are well known amongst Nigerian men: na Shakara! He may buff and huff, na Shakara. In private, he is as soft as butter, and as amenable as soft clay.
You have to teach a typical Nigerian man. After a while, he becomes your lapdog and will do most things you ask of him. But after a while, he becomes the master of the game. Twenty five years earlier, a sizeable number of the women (between the ages of 18 and 40) knew what French kiss, fellatio, Cunnilingus, rimming and various other sex acts and positions were. The men were laggards, slackers. Today? Oh no, you couldn’t make some of them (those between 18 and 40) stop. They want butter on bread.
But in spite of the gradual transformation of the Nigerian men, some still treat women of different color and background differently. A typical Nigerian living in the western world still does not bring his woman roses and cards, he still does not give her hand-written love notes, he still does not take her for evening or morning walks, and he still does not give her backrub or full body massage. Kai, God forbid she asks him to suck on her toes.
But he will do the aforementioned plus more for the non-Nigeria, especially if the non-Nigerian is White, Asian or Latin American. There is a system to it, though. First, he complains to the non-Blacks that his religion and or culture do not allow licking and sucking the suckables and the lickables. He swears it is an abomination to do so. He swears thunder and lightning will strike him if he disobeys God and that his ancestors will shift uncomfortable in their graves.
Eyes wide open and with hardening nuts, that same Nigerian will murmur to the non-Black: “but I won’t object if you want to do it to/on me…it is permissible…only if you want to…” Should she oblige him, you couldn’t get that same Nigerian to stop moaning and praying: “Oh Lord, Oh Jesus…Yeparipa…Chineke…Egba mio…Yes…Yes…Yes…Ahhhh…Ohhhh…Mnnnn…Thank You…Thank You…!
If after the second or third episode the non-Black says ‘if you won’t come down on me, then forget it,” you will see the Naijaman with his tongue protruding, salivating, ready for action. Thereafter, you may never get him to stop licking the honey jar. Something else, he may never admit to his fellow Naijaman that he is regular visitor to the nectar jar. And even if he is caught with his tongue deep in the beehive, he will deny it; he will tell you he was searching for his lips
Wow, how did we get here? Now I know: I was telling you that I was not good at marriage. Six is enough. Still, I am willing to try it again if certain conditions are met. I don’t care if you are Black or Chinese or India or White or any other race or color in between. Heck, been there and done that. My doors are open…or page me.