Man tells court: My wife goes through my phone, calls, abuses and threatens my female customers
By: Abudu Olalekan
Every morning begins with tension, since he found messages were read without asking. Because she reacts loudly whenever a female customer reaches out about work matters. Outbursts arrive suddenly, filling rooms before anyone sees them coming. Clients hear sharp replies mid-call, though their questions seem harmless enough. After brief chats, warnings show up like echoes nobody wanted. Personal space shrinks each time the phone lights up. When fights ignite, remarks land harder than expected. Mistakes pile up when doubt never leaves. Now he waits in front of those who decide, hoping things shift
Odd, really – how one story can freeze your mind right there. Truth is, it does.
Facing the panel was Wasiu, accompanied by Memunat, inside Mapo’s customary courtroom – this one ranked top tier in Ibadan, within Oyo State. Things shifted sharply when daily routines grew hard to endure, blame pointed toward her conduct. Now separation stands as his request before those who decide such matters.
Stillness took over once his voice faded. Wasiu told the room about effort – petals left on pillows, gentle phrases at dusk, hours spent leaning across kitchen tables – but trust keeps crumbling anyway. Closeness does not stop doubt; even breath on skin feels questioned. Her eyes track every shift, convinced a second self waits behind his ribs. Proof never shows itself, yet certainty roots deep.
One moment you’re just looking at words. Then – snap – the whole thought changes. Not because someone says so, but because it simply does. That shift comes quick, always. No waiting around, never held back.
Breathing grows slow, that is when it begins. The device comes into her hands after his eyes close longer than usual. Tapping follows, each touch soft and planned. First messages appear, followed by saved numbers, eventually uncovering past talks tucked far down. Nothing slips through. He sleeps without knowing any of it.
Still unsaid, what truly hurts hasn’t come near surfacing.
When that name appears – any woman’s name – the phone sounds. Right after, calls rush in, clipped sentences slicing through. Shouting kicks off soon afterward. Promises of harm arrive without notice, blunt and heavy. It could be an aunt, a cousin; none of it matters. Even unpaid wages for work finished years back won’t shield anyone. Most times, the people speaking aren’t family at all, only customers.
Things fall apart for Wisiu now. The court learned the count ran wild – too many had left. Fewer calls come through lately. Old methods rest unused, silent. Belief fades, slipping out like breath at dawn.
Out of the blue, words twist sideways when he talks to her. His warnings? They pile on pressure rather than ease it. A snapped comment here, a sigh there – suddenly voices rise. Quiet moments crack open at odd hours: dawn light, dinner time, long after dark. Right now, it’s hard to imagine anyone seeing eye to eye. Equilibrium faded quietly, sometime back.
Time moved on, nearly twenty years now. Their lives began connecting when 2006 arrived. That year, their ways met unexpectedly. Soon after came a quiet ceremony, done without fuss. After that, boxes appeared at his door – hers – and stayed. As for paying bride price? Not once did anyone mention it. One child follows close on their path each morning. Behind, the years pile up like old letters tied with string. Two more step quietly through afternoons that never rush. Time drags slow, marked by small feet and tired shoes.
He told the judge “I have never once been unfaithful to this woman. I go out of my way to make her comfortable, to please her, I loved her more than anything. But she never believed a single word I ever said.”
“She will fight me for no just cause at all. Everyone on our street knows about our fights. I am ridiculed everywhere I go now.”
“Last month she seized my phone completely. Family have intervened. Everybody has begged her. She still will not give it back.”
“I am tired. I am so tired. There is no way to live like this. I cannot do this anymore. I earnestly beg this honourable court to dissolve this union so we can both go our separate ways.”
Failing to show up in court was on her terms. Through those doors, not a single step taken by her. Even though the officers gave her the summons two times – delivery confirmed each time. Appearing there? It just didn’t occur.
She might have reasons you do not know. Perhaps there is something real behind it – though just as likely, nothing matters much after all. Things come out when they want. Most often that happens without warning.
Few days from now, come March third, activity resumes – so claimed Mrs S M Akintayo, having held back the details only briefly. In charge she stands, shaping how every phrase that follows lands with meaning.
Moments before publication, calls to Memunat got no reply. By midweek, a source within the courthouse had confirmed details face-to-face with Reportersroom.
