Let me set the record straight. Before I married your daughter, I had other wives—women I had taken as partners in good faith. Your daughter knew of them, met them, and still chose to join me in marriage. My other wives welcomed her with open arms, yet now she seeks to impose rules, declaring that I must stop marrying and that she should be the last. It’s almost laughable, considering the grace my previous wives extended to her.
You sit there weeping, warning that I’ll be held accountable if anything happens to your daughter. But where was this outcry when I was sending you 30 million Naira every month? Did you tell the world about the luxury you enjoyed, the comfort my generosity afforded you? When your daughter stood in my village and swore an oath—vowing to stay by my side and never betray me—did you broadcast that to the world? No, you remained silent then.
If your daughter wishes to end this marriage, there’s a proper way to proceed. Let her return to my village, where we will formally undo the oath she made. She must also return everything I’ve ever given her—every gift, every token of my commitment. Only then can she walk away freely. Should she fail to honor this process, she risks inviting consequences far beyond her control—madness, as the traditions warn, will not spare her.
