DINMA- The Novel. Chapter Seven


DINMA- The Novel


Dinma was applying ointment on her face- in the bedroom- when she heard Chike’s car drive into the compound. Minutes later, she heard him open the children’s door to check on them. They were already sleeping but he always checked on them- no matter how late he got back home. He walked into the bedroom door with bags from her favorite boutique.

“Welcome honey.”

He kissed a spot on her face she had not covered with ointment and excitedly handed her one of the bags.

“Try these on. I want to see them on you.”

A huge smile took up her entire face. “What are we celebrating? It’s not yet my birthday.

Dinma looked into the bag, there were three dresses in it. It didn’t matter that she was bone tired and didn’t want to take off her nightie. Her lips were in danger of splitting from her very wide grin. She pulled them out and regarded each dress. The finishing on them was amazing. He regularly bought her stuff from Nurse Sheri’s sister’s boutique- Mindy Boutique. It was a first class boutique with quality stuff. She noticed the other shopping bags in his hands and knew without a doubt that he also got something for the kids. She planted a kiss on his lips in gratitude.

“Go ahead and try them on. We can return anyone that doesn’t fit you.”

She wriggled out of her night gown and tried on the first dress. It was a blue, off shoulder, floor length dress. It was beautiful and she felt like a princess in it. Dragging her gaze away from her image, she saw Chike regarding her with speculation.

 “What? What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” Her eyes rounded, eager to please him.

He spun her around and took some steps backwards to get a better look at her- a frown on his face.

“The dress itself is lovely but I don’t think …..” He gesticulated while trying to come up with an appropriate statement. “…the dress is ….your neck is looking too thin in the dress.” He said finally. “I don’t like how your collar bone is sticking out.”

Dinma, suddenly self-conscious, reached for her neck. Chike smiled and placed his fingers in her sunken collar bone. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have bought you an off-shoulder dress.”

The muscles on her cheek ticked involuntarily as she tried to hold up her smile.

“You should return the dress.” He said as he spun her around again to unzip the gown.

The second dress was a beautiful, red flared gown that fell slightly above her knees. It had lace trimmings at the neck line and a big bow at the shoulder. Not pausing to form her own opinion on the dress, she quickly looked at Chike to find out what he thought about it.

“Hmmm…. This is good. Yes, it’s good.”

Dinma caught his eyes and smiled.

“Your neck is still standing out though but this thing,” he touched the bow, “will take attention away from your neck.” Once again, he stepped back to admire the full package. “Don’t wear heels with this dress. You may look too tall and gangly, if you do.”

She hastily took off the dress and wiggled into the third, her now robotic smile struggling to remain in place.

“It’s nice but looks too drab.” He gave her a once over and quickly unzipped the dress. “I saw a lady try on a similar dress at the boutique and she looked stunning. I don’t know why this one looks like a funeral attire on you.” He kissed her neck to take the sting out of his words. “My wife is gorgeous, it’s the dress that is wrong for you. But on a more serious note, you are becoming too skiny.” He touched her collar bone again, then helped her out of the dress.


Three years earlier.

“Is that what you are wearing?” Chike asked, frowning slightly when Dinma walked into the living room.

“What’s wrong with it?” She looked down at the dress.

Their very good friend from the university was getting married and they were running late. Dinma’s cousin, Esther, was going to watch 4-year old Ezinne and 7-month old Nnamdi till they got back.

 “You look, I dunno…..fat…. in that dress.” He switched off the television set. “I can see the bulge in your stomach and those love handles on your back are very unflattering.”

“Chike, I have had two kids. Nnamdi is not even one yet. I’m pretty sure it will be understandable that I am not as slim as when we newly wedded.”

His facial expression was still contorted in a frown. She sighed and dropped her purse on the table. “If you want me to change to something else; I will.”

“No there is no time for that. Just use a shawl to cover up yourself.” He picked his car keys. “I can’t wait for you to start the dressing process over again.”

“The weather is extremely hot, a shawl will be very uncomfortable for me.”

“Then STAY HOME. You won’t go with me dressed like a sumo wrestler. I don’t need you embarrassing me in public.”


“Would you prefer if I act like I don’t know you when we get there? Look, it’s not a hard task. The ball is in your court; either get a shawl to cover up those unflattering parts or stay at home. The choice is yours.”

She hurriedly got a shawl and draped it over her dress.

The tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. It didn’t help that the car AC hadn’t completely evaporated the sweat pouring down her face- now she felt like a pig. She pulled down the shawl, making sure to cover her stomach from Chike’s scrutiny.

“It’s not like you are FAT fat. It’s just that most of your clothes don’t fit like before. I’m just worried that if you go shopping for your current size, you may not bother losing that baby weight again around your stomach. You really should sign up at a gy….”

“I have put on the shawl, CAN WE PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT MY WEIGHT?” She yelled. “You make it sound like I got fat by sitting in front of a TV, eating junk food everyday. Try having two kids and tell me how that goes.”

“You are easily offended…too sensitive.” He revved the engine and sped down the express. “What’s wrong with what I said? If I were getting out of shape, I would expect you to tell me too. We are supposed to have each other’s best interests at heart. How would you feel if start growing a beer belly? It won’t be fair to you because I know how you hate that.”

Dinma remained unresponsive, turned the AC flip in her direction and dug out her lip gloss from her bag to complete her makeup process. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Chike steal glances at her as she applied the lip gloss.

“So you are trying to completely disarm me, right?” He said, a smile in his voice. “You know I love that shade on you and I always find you irresistible when you wear it.” His words failed to put a smile on her face as it usually did.

“Honey, come on. Don’t be mad at me na.” He turned his attention back to driving as he tried to maneuver through a very bumpy road.

Dinma put her lip gloss back in her makeup bag; a lone tear slipped down her cheek.


“So which ones do you want to keep?” Chike startled her out of her reverie.

She looked at the three gowns before her but for the life of her could not figure out which one to pick. She really liked the long blue gown but Chike had a differing view on it; the red one was too frou-frou for her tastes. She also liked the chic, black gown. It had a classic elegance to it.

Turning her attention to him, she said “I’ll keep only the red dress. I can return the other two next week.”

The smile on his face confirmed she had indeed made the right choice.


-that emotional abuse is a silent destroyer? It’s not as easy to pin-point as physical abuse.

-It’s sometimes so hidden that both the perpetrator and victim may not even be aware it is happening.

_emotional abuse can be found in many aspects of relationships: between lovers; parents to children; children to parents; friend to friend; boss to employee; colleagues; among family member.

Are you in an emotionally abusive relationship OR are you an abuser (sometimes abusers are not even aware of their abusive tendencies.) Click this link to read 30 SIGNS OF EMOTIONAL ABUSEhttp://liveboldandbloom.com/11/relationships/signs-of-emotional-abuse



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DINMA- The Novel. Chapter Six


DINMA- The Novel


It had been a busy day at the hospital. Dinma stopped the nurse from bringing more files to her consulting room as early as 11:00am. Usually, she stopped accepting more patients’ files between 12pm to 12:30pm; but today, she really needed to rest before the kids got home. Lately, she was easily fatigued and had trouble sleeping- the bags under her eyes more prominent than usual. She was also losing weight due to a lack of appetite and Dinma was very sensitive about her weight. Her sunken collar bone made her feel ugly so she regularly wore clothes that covered her neck or tied scarves around her neck- despite the crazy heat.

She would have asked for a vacation but that was out of the question. Already, more than half of her 30 day annual leave had been used and she needed the remaining two weeks for the annual vacation she took with her kids. If she could, she would whisk her kids off to their grandparents place for the weekend, so she would have a good rest, but she hadn’t discussed it with her husband beforehand.

“Doc Dee, are you leaving?” Nurse Sheri asked, looking at her wrist watch. It was a twenty minutes to 3 o’clock.

“Yes. Doctor Ben has started his shift, right?”

“Yes, he has. See you on Monday.”

One thing Dinma enjoyed in the hospital was her permanent morning shift. Her shift ran from 9am to 3pm five times a week- excluding weekends. The Medical Director- who was also the owner of the hospital- had proven to be very understanding. She had explained to the elderly doctor that her husband didn’t want her coming home late so he placed her on permanent morning shift. He was quite fond of Dinma who reminded him of his daughter and made exceptions for her whenever he could- although Dinma never took undue advantage of this.

The weather was terribly hot and her car A.C. was bad. She didn’t like the job that the mechanic at Ikeja had done on her car but Continue reading

DINMA- The Novel. Chapter Five




“Pink lips. Buy your pink lips,” several male vendors yelled out in the morbid heat.

These young vendors stood close to the overhead bridge at Ikeja and held small containers/bottles containing a gel-like substance- which they guaranteed passers-by would give them the oft revered pink-coloured lips. Their major targets were females although they approached the occasional male.

Some of these vendors would also look at a lady’s chest and if they decided she didn’t measure up, would call out their other merchandise, “Buy your breast enlargement cream here.”

One exuberant vendor grabbed hold of a young lady that walked past him.

“Baby, buy your pink lips,” he said.

“Leave me alone joor.” She pulled her hands out of his grip .

“You better come and buy. See your black lips. Na this kind lip wey dey run belle when pesin kiss am.”

He and his colleagues guffawed.

Dinma, seated on the booth of her car, watched this exchange with both horror and amusement. Her car had broken down very close to the overhead bridge at computer village- on her way home from the hospital. Some guys helped her push it under the bridge where a mechanic was currently working on it. Two and a half hours had gone by already and things weren’t looking up. Continue reading

DINMA- The Novel. Chapter Four.



First, i’ll say Happy International  Women’s Day. 

My sincerest apologies for the delay in publishing this post. Have you ever been so busy and stressed out that your creative juices just sort of freeze? Well, that’s been my story. 

Thanks to all that contacted me and asked me to release my hostage; Dinma- The Novel. Lol.

As penance, I’m posting CHAPTER FOUR AND FIVE TODAY. 


All eyes turned to watch the beautiful woman walk elegantly into the gigantic King’s and Queen’s hospital. Located in the very centre of Ikeja, the hospital was numbered among the best on the mainland. How fitting, therefore, that one of its doctors unconsciously acted like the hospital’s mascot. Her regal walk ensnared onlookers so that proper ‘staring’ etiquette was forgotten.

Dinma, however, had long ceased being uncomfortable at staring eyes. Although she wore a simple outfit, it could not hide the aura that drew eyes to drink in her beauty the second she walked into the hospital. She was completely oblivious to the eyes of both staff and patients and maintained an elegant stride past the waiting room. Some called out greetings to the amiable doctor; others felt pangs of envy as they mutely stared. In their defense, they felt she had everything going for her- enviable occupation, handsome husband, cute children, wealthy status and her darn beautiful looks and body. Just as she got to the corridor where her consulting room was located, a nurse called out,

“Doc Dee.”

Dinma turned to her, “Yes, Nurse Rose. How are you?”

“I’m fine, good morning. MD asked me to inform you to see him before you leave today.”

“Alright, thank you very much.” Dinma looked at the stream of patients in the waiting room; it would be a long day today. “Wait. How many patients’ files are currently
on my desk?”

“Twelve.” Nurse Rose responded, adjusting the pin that held her cap in place. “Doctor Funsho said he will also handle the antenatal patients today.”

Dinma gave a visible sigh of relief. She hadn’t slept so well the night before.  “Alright, thank you.”

“By the way Doc, you look very nice and I love your bag. Nurse Sheri said your husband got you this bag from her sister’s boutique. I noticed the bag when I went there two weeks ago, but I couldn’t afford it. Your husband is really taking care of you. I pray I find a husband like yours.” She said, admiring Dinma’s handbag.

For lack of an appropriate response to the nurse’s unconscious death wish, Dinma smiled and moved on to her consulting room. The hospital attendant called in the first patient; a man and a woman entered.

The man’s face was contorted in displeasure while his timid- looking wife, with acne-scarred face, shrank back in her seat; a clear sign that her husband would take charge of the conversation.

“Good morning……..” Dinma looked at the file. “Mr and Mrs Jide. How are you today?”

Mr Jide cut right in. “Doctor, to be very frank I am so angry right now.”

“What is the problem?”

“This woman got herself pregnant again. Can you imagine that?” He pointed at his wife, without sparing her a glance.

Dinma took a peek at Mrs Jide. The poor woman had shame, deep contrition and a touch of defiance written all over her face.

“I don’t understand, Mr Jide. When you say your wife got herself pregnant, how do you mean? Is there another man involved?”

“Another man involved? Doctor, what are you trying to insinuate?” He almost jolted out of his chair.

“I am not insinuating anything Mr Jide,” Dinma said. “I’m trying to understand your words. You said your wife got herself pregnant. It sounded like you had nothing to do with the pregnancy.” Continue reading

DINMA- THE NOVEL. Chapter Three



Hi guys, I truly apologize for the delay in bringing out this chapter. It’s three days late. Can we safely blame it on Valentine’s Day (Even though my official male crush- James Franco- was so busy filming he couldn’t take me out.) All in favour say aye?………..and the ayes have it. We’ll go ahead to blame the delay on Val.

As always, I appreciate your feedback.



It was almost noon when Dinma arrived home from the hospital. Dr Aisha had offered to drop her but she insisted she would take a cab. Chike’s car was parked in its usual spot. She touched it, the bonnet was cool; he hadn’t gone out at all.

“So, which sob story did you tell? David and Goliath? Beauty and the Beast? The Nazis versus the Jews?” She had just entered her living room when Chike threw the question at her. He didn’t pause typing on his laptop. “I was painted as a spawn from hell, right?” From where she stood, she could only see his full dark hair and the small gold chain on his neck.

The weather was quite hot; her clothes sticking to her body.  She needed to shower A.S.A.P. but first- some water to drink.

Chike had been busy. The kitchen was clean; all traces of the ‘dance with death’ had been wiped off. He had also replaced all the broken plates, which he smashed in a fit of anger. After a fight, he sometimes cleaned up the mess himself; that was the closest he came to penance. She slowly drank from her glass of water while staring at the kitchen wall where her blood had been. How did he get rid of that stain? She squinted from where she stood. Did he repaint the wall? Wash it? She downed another glass of water and went to her room. Continue reading



Hi everyone. Thank you all for the feedback I got on chapter one. The messages some of you left me via facebook messenger was wow!.

Here’s chapter two. Chapter three will be out next week Tuesday. To get instant notifications on the new chapters, please tick ‘Notify me of new posts via mail.’

Do let me know your thoughts on the story. Kindly leave a feedback.



“Chike, please stop!!!!” Dinma screamed as her husband dragged her to the kitchen. The gas cooker was lit but there was nothing on it. She had no idea what he was thinking. Was he finally going to carry out one of his more sinister threats?

Chike ignored her pleas. Pinning her down close to the gas cooker, he pulled out a red hot spoon from the burner.

Oh my God! He was going to burn her.

“Chikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Noooooooooo!!!!” she thrashed and screamed as searing hot pain burned through her skull.

“It’s okay. You are safe. It’s just a dream.” A soothing voice whispered to her. “You are in a hospital. You are safe.”

Slowly, Dinma’s senses came alive; she could perceive a strong scent of antiseptic. The room was quite spacey for a private ward- a beautiful framed painting of a waterfall designed the wall opposite her bed. She tried to move and noticed an I.V. attached to her hand.”

“Please don’t move. You are in the hospital. I’m Dr. Aisha. I came to the house to stitch you up.”

Dr Aisha? Yes, the petite bulldog Mayowa got for her. Continue reading



A special shout out goes to Olajumoke Bolu-Kujero for giving me that push in my tush. Thanks sis. 

Dear Readers,

For now, I’ll share a chapter every week. Please leave a comment.

Oh! I’m not so sure how to go about the summary of the book without spoiling it so….. Just enjoy.


The first thing Dinma noticed, as she came to, was the splatter of blood on the wall which appeared straight out of a horror movie. She could also taste the blood in her mouth; it left a nasty metallic taste. She grimaced as she tried to move her aching body from the wet kitchen floor.

Somehow, they always ended in the kitchen. No matter where the dance with death started; it always ended in the kitchen. The kitchen held a certain enticement for Chike who liked to tease her with ways he could end her life. A blow to the head with the pestle; a slit in her throat with a knife; scalding water on her face; a butcher knife to severe her limbs. He loved to describe- in gory details- all the possible ways he could maim her.

Oh God! Just give me the strength to move my body, she prayed. She tried hard not to entertain the thought she might be paralyzed. The blare from the TV played her favorite song.

After the reggae play the blues…the blues…the blues

Make you do as I do…I do… I do

The sound emanating from the living room was enough to turn the entire street to a concert hall.  It was a deliberate method Chike had devised to keep outsiders from interfering in his family affair.

She could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness again. Continue reading