Muslim child bride– Wasila Umaru who killed husband and friends |
We are in a season of abuses. A 14-year-old girl from Kano on Friday confessed to poisoning the man she was forced to marry using rat poison. Three other people died in the incident while another ten who ate from the same food were taken to the hospital. Wasila Umaru’s husband was three times older than her. She never wanted to marry him. The marriage only lasted for a week before the tragedy.
The same day, a banker who murdered his wife and burned her body after she threatened to expose his homosexuality was sentenced to life in prison with a minimum term of 21 years.
Jasvir Ginday and Varkha Rani |
“Jasvir Ginday stared down at the floor as he was told his decision to throttle Varkha Rani and set fire to her remains in a home incinerator in his back garden was ‘unbelievably casual and callous.’” Ginday murdered his wife a few months after their wedding. Rani (24), a master degree holder was from
But the one that has continued to regale the whole world is the trial of Oscar Pistorius for the alleged murder of his girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp on a Valentine day.
Before I continue, please oblige me this necessary digression.
I was hiding in the village of Umunze in Anambra State where I had gone for incubation in preparation for the assignment God had given me for the year 2015. (Not politics oh!) But Omawumi found me out. There are very few people in this world who believe in the power of purpose and truly pursue it. Omawumi is one of these few. Yes, purpose, and that’s one element that seems to be confused in the abusive relationships mentioned here.
I don’t know about you, but I have followed this trial with keen interest. Most of Pistorius responses to prosecutor Gerrie Nel’s questions leave little to be desired. This is not a continuation of his trial; of course I know that will be subjudice. But there are just too many holes in his account of the shooting that shattered the head of his girlfriend of three months.
First, he couldn’t see the person who was in the toilet yet he was able to pump bullets from his pistol into her head. He must be a sharp shooter. Second, he felt threatened by what he thought was the presence of an intruder, rather than flew with his ‘lover’ from this intruder he ran towards him. Of course it’s his personality not to run away. If he truly loved Steenkamp as he wants us to believe, how come he was not concerned about her whereabouts during the alleged invasion? I thought the obsession to protect is the proof of love.
The deceased, Reeva Steenkamp with Oscar Pistorius |
There are many holes to be picked but for want of space. More so this is not the crux of my concern.
My question is why do people go into such relationships in the first place? Friends have testified that Pistorius was a gun runner. a shooting lover.
Pistorius is sick. Ginday is sick. Wasila is sick. What is the purpose of being in a relationship with someone that is this sick? Nobody needs to die like this.
Wasila’s senses were distorted by hatred for the man she was forced to marry. This must have affected her countenance and in turn their fellowship. Yet, the husband failed to see it. He paid the ultimate price. Ginday never loved Rani. He is a homosexual. He had a relationship with Rani – they were husband and wife – but there was no fellowship. Rani paid the price.
Pistorius never loved Steenkamp. He was a self obsessed maniac. I feel that they shared what could be called a class relationship, but there was no communion. Steenkamp paid the price.
Communion (or fellowship) is the joy of any relationship. It is fellowship that makes relationship productive and rewarding. Fellowship in turn thrives on knowledge and love. I could imagine Steenkamp running away from Pistorius into the toilet scared for her life. I could imagine the mortal pain that raced through her body as the bullets pierced her brain. I could imagine her futile screams for salvation. I could imagine the cold hands of death dragging away her soul.
All I can say is, nobody needs to die like this.
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