The Odyssey of a Black Woman Married to a White Man in Mauritania

Homelessness is a pain so deep that it cuts through your soul like machine cuts through glass, so smooth and so fast, leaving a gaping wound, blood and all parts of you scattered on the ground.

I never wanted to go to Mauritania but my ex husband, an American convinced me to do so because anything that looked white was a target in Nigeria and a good catch for ransome.

For most black criminals, all whites are rich so we decided to leave in a country that was affordable and he could study Arabic since we were both muslim converts but along the way, our fairy tale romance turned to tales of narrcissim, lies and the desire for my white ex to have a black wife who worshipped him like white was the color of God.

I was tired of the abuse so divorce was a relief as long as I could get my deferred islamic dowry and buy a flight ticket back to Lagos; to the dreary home of my family but home no matter how tattered will always be home especially when it contained my nine year old son who was to join my ex and I in Mauritania and then to America, the land of the brave and free.

But here I was, with a pathological liar for an ex who could not bear the thought that a black woman could be intelligent and would do his best to make me feel less of a person so his white self could feel smart. He wanted me begging, crying, to feel me humble and acknowledge that I am useless without him but what he did not understand is that the lives of Nigerians have always been hard.

I have been discriminated for being a Nigerian because some fools from my country brought shame to us all. I have faced rejection in foreign remote jobs like other hard working Nigerians like me and one thing we have learnt is that we can never give up or hold on to something we have lost. If it is lost, we move on and search for something better.

So although it was hard to survive as a housewife with failed business attempts because Mauritania was a racist country who hated the sight of a black woman walking the streets with her muslim white husband, happy to be alive, I was ready to face whatever hardship came square on.

If you've ever heard the song "hit me like a wrecking ball...", that was exactly how it felt when rent was due and my ex refused to send my dowry we deferred because he was broke back then.

He was in the states working for Temp agencies, sleeping away his work hours and getting fired every week for coming in late or taking sick leaves three times a week at places he worked. There was no me to wake him up to go to work but the good side was the SSI money kept flowing so as long as he could crash out on a friend's couch, he never had to work or take care of responsibilities except food.

So, I dragged my bags, left my properties for the rugrats Mauritanian haratines tribes in the capital city, Nouakchott to struggle for the property I left behind.

I was in tears, and on my period but I knew I wouldn't cry or break down before my neighbours who had watched me and my ex with hate, praying for our downfall with the look in their eyes for months and were laughing to my face as I dragged my bags.

The shame, overwhelmed me till I couldn't breathe and till fate took a shocking turn... More like a mix of a good and wicked turn at the last hour...

To Be Continued....l