She Who Dares

“Rayla! You don’t talk when your elders are talking!”

“How rude! What opinions can a young girl like you have?”

“What good is a sassy brat? Rayla, apologise now!”

"My dear daughter, a woman’s place is with her husband. Always. Without questions” Rayla's mother’s gentle voice penetrated the rowdy voices crowding her head as she curled up tightly in a ball to relieve the pain.

She wondered if she was really going crazy, as Ayombo had said earlier. Why else would she be hearing all those voices now? Even her dead father’s voice? Oh yes, she must be well on her way to lunacy.

But not now! Oh no! Rayla panicked as she remembered the reason why she couldn’t afford to be crazy for now. It was not allowed. Ayombo would be expecting his meals when he got back from his outing. She flinched as she heard him swear loudly in the passage. A thud sounded, and he swore some more. Rayla knew that their neighbour’s children had kept their stool in the middle of the passage again.

“Please, don’t let him come back,” Rayla whimpered silently in her prayers. Then she chided herself immediately. After all, that was not the right prayer for a wife to pray for the master of the house.

“Get off the floor and go get dinner ready,” her subconsciousness whispered urgently.

Her mind was fired up to go, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. The fall hadn’t been so bad after all, had it? It was her fault for being so weak and useless! If only she had stood straight enough when the back of his hand connected with her face, she wouldn't have fallen against the window. If only she hadn’t been so clumsy, she wouldn’t have pulled down the threadbare curtain on her way down.

After all, it was only her fault that she had struck her head against the edge of their dingy bed upon her descent. Who could blame Ayombo for repeatedly kicking her against the bed frame, with the boots she had saved up to get for him at Christmas? After all, a man needed to take proper charge of such a woman. Even Ayombo agreed.

“Get up, Rayla, and go do what will make him happy,” the insistent thought had her raise herself sharply, only to be incapacitated by excruciating pain. She tried to turn over so she could move to the wobbly bedframe to levitate herself, but a gut-wrenching pain ricocheted through her lower abdomen, and sticky liquid gushed out of her.

In a panic, Rayla held her laps tightly together and hoped the liquid had not yet stained their threadbare carpet. Her dear husband shouldn’t come home to find such a stain on their spotty carpet. Detergents are expensive, and her mother told her she shouldn’t be the type of wife who unnecessarily inconveniences her husband.

Rayla got jolted out of her thoughts as chills racked her body and her sweat glands seemed to be having a field day. Panic suffused her body as her insides went ablaze and her pains skyrocketed more than she had ever felt them. Confusion and a chilling realisation filled her mind.

“Something was wrong." This…this is not supposed to be this painful. All I ever needed was to curl up like this for a while, and it would all go away. But this isn't going away," she thought in despair as her vision greyed.

Her next attempt to lift herself off the floor was feeble, and all she managed to do was cause herself more pain. She thought of calling out to the neighbour but she remembered why none of them had bothered to come at all, even as the familiar sound of Ayombo’s switching belt resounded in their small room. She was certain that Kadi’s mom and the “corper” on the opposite sides of their room could hear Ayombo’s grunts as he expended himself in her after the beating, yet they knew better than to come over to help. That would only earn Rayla more beatings later, after all.

“Help me,” Rayla said faintly in desperation when she realised that this was different from the other times. “I... still need to cook. Somebody, please help me off this floor,” she said as a spark of rebellion ignited in her. She knew she was not supposed to call out, but this time she had to. She just knew that this time was different from others. “Help me,” she tried to call out again, her voice growing weaker. All that escaped her chafed lips this time was nothing but a mewling sound.

Just like an answer at the right minute, her phone started ringing somewhere above her head. She turned her neck to see her sellotaped phone tilted precariously like a drunk performer at the foot of the stool. It was a miracle that it was still in one piece after being knocked out of her hand earlier. Tears came to Rayla’s eyes as she saw her mom’s number flashing at her on the screen of the phone. It was almost as if it was saying, “Rayla, I raised you better than this. Crying just because of a little correction? Get up, my girl.”

Rayla strained her hand farther to get to the phone, but the sharp pain in her spine made her withdraw instantly. Her helplessness made tears gush out of her eyes in frustration. A spark of anger chased closely behind the despair she felt about her situation.

“Mother, I did what you asked, but it didn’t save me!” Yet she quickly squelched that thought. Her mother hadn't told her to complain when her husband asked for his rights after all.

The phone stopped ringing, and that even brought more panic to her. It started ringing again, but then lethargy settled gleefully in her limbs. All she could do was stare at her mother’s number, twisted at that odd angle on the floor, as more fluid seeped out of her. “I am sorry, Ayombo, but I will get up in time to clean…it up. I am sorry, Mother. I….I…didn’t listen to your…instructions well. I….I…” Rayla couldn’t decipher if her mother was still calling or if it was her ears that were ringing as she felt the sudden flash of sunshine through their bare window, which bathed their room in its rays. She was oblivious to the stark illumination of their little room, which consisted of Ayombo’s designer wear, shoes, and watches in contrast to her meagre wardrobe. Patched-up quilts, torn carpets, and the second piece of furniture in the room, the crooked leg stool, glared back in consternation as they watched the mumbling human.

“I…n….to….”

Even the sun wasn’t enough to conquer the approaching darkness as Rayla tried to claw her way out. “Maybe Mother was wrong, after all,” was the last rebellious thought that got hold of her mind before she was finally taken under.

When the door crashed into the wall as a figure barged in, Rayla was no longer of this world. Her broken body had no idea of the warm arms that wrapped around her as she was lifted out of the puddle of her blood.

DAYS LATER

Rayla opened her eyes to a ceiling that looked nothing like the water-stained, spot-marked one she had gotten used to in the past years. The scents were different, and the sounds coming faintly to her were unfamiliar, especially the soothing voice of the smiling woman who came up to her, as she turned gingerly to her side.

“Oh, you are back with us now." Thank the Lord,” the sweet-smelling woman said just before Rayla felt a flurry of movement at the edge of her vision, and she was enveloped in a familiar scent before she could react.

“You are awake? Thank You, Thank You, my creator. Ah, my daughter. You are with us now. Your husband has been…”

“I thought we discussed this, ma’am?” The smiling woman’s voice took on an edge of steel as she turned to Rayla’s mother.

“But her husband is still...”

“The only thing her husband will do is rot in jail. We have enough evidence against him. And if you like your daughter, you will let us do the right thing for her”

“Ah, I love my daughter o. What kind of a mother will not love their child? Of course, I love her, but a woman’s place is...”

“...Is where her well-being is!” the woman said sternly, shutting her mother up.

Rayla had no idea what was going on, but she knew she instantly admired the smiling woman. What was her name? A woman like her was what Rayla had always wanted to be like. A woman who wasn’t told to toss her career aside to keep her home. A woman with an opinion. A… a splitting headache interrupted her thought, and she grimaced.

“Don’t task yourself too much, dear." We will talk later. Let me get the doctor. I am Magdalene, by the way,” the smiling lady said before she went to get the doctor.

After ensuring Rayla once again that everything would be alright and she should concentrate on getting better first, the smiling, formidable woman left the hospital with the assurance that she would be back soon enough. She told Rayla her name and asked her to see her as her friend from that moment on.

Rayla still couldn’t wrap her head around how she had ended up in the expensive-looking hospital bed with polite nurses tending to her but at the moment, her mind was too fuzzy with fatigue for her to bother much about that. In no time, she slipped back into sleep. With the thought that she might as well get all the rest she could now before Ayombo gets back from his outing. Rayla liked Magdalene and her dream was filled with scenarios of how she also became a woman like Magdalene. A woman that Ayombo wouldn’t be able to kick and call a trash and a good-for-nothing.

*************

She was rudely pulled out of her dreams as pain lanced through her bruised face. Rayla’s eyes widened with terror when the drunk, sneering face of Ayombo slammed into her vision. His cruel grin was chilling before he muttered.

“How dare you leave the house and come here to lie down like a moron? Where is my food, you bitch?” he yelled as he struck her face again with his fist.

Rayla’s eyes rolled back in her head as all the soothed wounds on her body went aflame again. She almost choked as his alcohol-reeking scent bathed her face when he leaned close to her and held her frayed collar tightly in his hands.

“You must be stupid if you think I will let you off easily for this rebellion of yours. You are my wife! My property! And you will do as I say! Now get up!” he shouted again. His voice louder this time in the semi-dark room.

“My son-in-law. I know you have the right to discipline your wife but this is the hospital and you shouldn’t do this. I only tell you where she is because I want you to resolve your issues. Let her go”

Something akin to hatred flared inside Rayla when she suddenly realised that her mother had been in the room with them. She called him here?!

“Mama, stay out of this!” Ayombo shouted at Rayla’s mother; who was busy wringing her hands with anxiety on her face as she watched him rough-handling her daughter.

Rayla could see that she wouldn’t get any help from that angle but for once in her life, she was not about to follow the path of the woman who birthed her. She summoned all her strength, while Ayombo’s face was still turned towards her mother, and sunk her teeth firmly into the hand still on her collar.

Ayombo yelled just as the door to the room opened suddenly. A fuming doctor strode in with his eyes on Ayombo’s raised fist.

“What is going on here?!” he shouted in anger as the nurse behind him rushed to Rayla’s side to calm her.

“She bit me! The bitch dared to bite me!” Ayombo shouted in an aggrieved tone. Surprise evident in his voice.

EPILOGUE

Magdalene turned out to be the founder of a foundation, that helped abused women fight for their rights, find their voice, and find their purpose. The youth corper in Rayla's house was a volunteer in the organisation. He had been on the lookout and silently investigating Rayla’s situation since he packed into the house a month earlier. He was the one who saved Rayla the day she had almost died from Ayombo’s beating.

Ayombo got what he deserved after the doctor caught him beating Rayla that night. The doctor had him detained by the hospital security and he called Magdalene immediately to inform her of the situation on ground. Police officers were immediately informed of the situation and they arrested him.

The evidence of Rayla’s bruises and testimony from Rayla and their neighbours earned Ayombo two years imprisonment, an immediate divorce and the restraining order that he should never be seen within ten feet from Rayla for the rest of his life. Violation of the order would earn him ten more years in prison for the amount of time the order was violated.

Rayla’s mother was taken in for questioning as well but Rayla pleaded with Magdalene to have her released since she believed her mother was only acting according to her mantra of “A wife belonged to her husband and must always do his bidding”

Rayla was nurtured back into full health, and though it took tremendous work and perseverance, she was finally able to let go of the instilled guilt that had been embedded in her through gaslighting, body shaming, and years of abuse. She devoted herself to getting her life back on track while actively volunteering for the "HerOpinionMatters" Foundation and helping those in a similar situation. Just like Magdalene, Rayla became the woman with the bright smile, just as Magdalene had once been to her.

One thing that Rayla would say to anyone today is, “You are not alone. You have a voice. An opinion. As my sun sets to rise again, so do you deserve a rebirth.”