Christmas at the Grillo’s was always the best and most interesting. Each year was bigger and better than the last because they constantly tried to outdo themselves.
Chief Abiodun Grillo took great pride in the fact that he shared his birthday with our Lord and Saviour, so every Christmas was a double celebration. His home was open to everyone and guests were always encouraged to invite friends.
Christmas at the Grillo’s also felt like a reunion. Over time, many of us had moved away from the neighbourhood but we gathered every year at the party. It was always something to look forward to.
Now, this is where my story truly begins.
Riyah and I had mutual friends and we met at the party three years in a row. We became cordial, nothing serious, mainly because she lived in another state and only came to Jos for the Christmas holidays. She loved the cold weather and the calmness of the city and often talked about moving there someday.
That someday came when her company offered her a transfer either to Port Harcourt or Jos. She chose Jos.
When she arrived, she called me and we went out for lunch. One lunch turned into another and then another. I began to notice that she always wanted to be around me. She was kind, friendly and easy going but for some reason, I wasn’t ready to pursue a relationship with her.
Then one night, as I was drifting off on my couch, I heard the doorbell ring. I was surprised to see Riyah at my door at that hour. I can’t even remember her reason for coming but she was there. That night, it rained heavily and she got stuck at my place.
It was a cold night. One thing led to another and Riyah ended up in my bed.
We never spoke about what happened until two months later, when she told me she was pregnant. I was shocked. It wasn’t planned, and it wasn’t what I wanted, but I had to accept it. She was a good woman, so we decided to get married.
When I went to her family to inform them of my intention to marry their daughter, their joy was overwhelming. They were extremely happy and even offered to handle every detail of the wedding. I declined but they still ensured she had a wedding everyone talked about.
Before the wedding, my family wanted to carry out what they called an “investigation” into Riyah and her family. It was a tradition in my place to learn about the family one was marrying into. I told my family it wasn’t necessary since Riyah was already pregnant.
The wedding went well and we settled into married life. Riyah gave birth to our beautiful baby girl and not long after we had a baby boy. That was when I began to notice changes in her.
She became a completely different person. Her temper was alarming and her behaviour was erratic. At times, it felt like I was living with a stranger. It became so bad that her company laid her off and she had to take up a teaching job. I grew worried and began to ask questions—the same questions my family wanted to ask before the wedding.
Whenever I reported her behaviour to her family, they were evasive. They always asked me to be patient with her. Shortly after, they would credit my account with a large sum of money, saying it was for my troubles. I must mention that her family was quite comfortable. but giving me money each time I complained about their daughter felt strange and suspicious.
Then one day, while travelling to Warri on an official assignment, I sat next to Riyah’s cousin on the plane. The conversation took a serious turn when he asked how I was coping with my wife’s condition. I played along as if I knew what he was talking about.
That was how I found out the truth.
Riyah had a mental health condition. She had been admitted to a mental health facility twice in the past and had been on medication for years. She stopped taking her medication because she finally got what she had always wanted—a husband and children.
Her cousin was very talkative. Looking back, I believe he knew I had no idea about her condition; he just wanted to spill the beans. He even hinted that Riyah’s pregnancy was planned. Sadly, I think he might be right.
When I returned from Warri, I confronted Riyah with what I had heard. She became furious and asked if she was the first person to ever have a mental illness. I had no issue with her condition as long as it was properly managed. What hurt me was that she never told me and chose to stop taking her medication.
I confronted her parents as well. They had no defence. Instead, they credited my account with an even larger amount of money. I didn’t understand their intention. Were they trying to buy my silence and keep me married to their daughter? The thought was ridiculous.
Riyah’s condition continued to worsen. She had already received two warnings at her workplace and her job was hanging by a thread. Her behaviour towards the children and me became frightening. At any moment, she could smash a plate, throw a cup or scream at the top of her voice over nothing.
I feel deceived. I don’t know how much longer I can endure this. My in-laws’ money cannot buy my peace or my safety. I have to think about myself and my children.
This Christmas is another reminder of how I met Riyah and it comes with pain. While everyone else is having a Merry Christmas, I honestly don’t know how mine will be.
