Sanni K. Yusuf

Murewa was married to Ajibola in a colourful, memorable wedding ceremony. Felicitators wined, dined and had leftovers to go home with – a sign that much was significantly expended on eatables and drinkables by the parents.

Half a decade into the conjugality, no fruits of the womb to the woman’s credit – not even a miscarriage, just for once. The couple became worried, as medical remedial had been sought when the problem became apparent a year into their union. Doctors with expertise in gynaecology were explored at different times. In the end, it was discovered that Murewa had complications preventing her womb from fertility. The husband, too, had been unpremeditatedly infected by the wife through mating. Double jeopardy!

Thousands of Nigerian currency was periodically spent on lab tests and drugs, all to no avail. In the long run, they resorted to herbs – very expensive ones, indeed. Taking them as prescribed was hell because of their strong bitterness and unpleasant, irritating odour. But had they any choice? No! They’d got to endure the roughness of the road if they truly had a crucial destination. Some of the herbs were so strong that their intake would sometimes leave them dazed for hours.

Without too much in too little, since it was obvious that the wife was the carrier of the stumbling infections, Ajibola was advised by family and friends to either get a second wife or send Murewa packing. He was pressured, pestered, especially by his parents.

One day, while discussing with a friend, Ajibola said:

“No! I will never send away my best half, my joy. And if I were to have a second wife as a Muslim, I would rather do so on a different platter, not on account of my queen’s health challenges which were no fault of hers. May I state categorically, without mincing words, that I married Murewa a virgin. Yes, a virgin! I mean she had never been sexed by any man except me. She was brand new on the night of our wedding. Although she had told me, but confirming its trueness that night increased my love for her. Therefore, the infections or complications preventing us to have a baby could never have been her fault. She remains a loved damsel.”

Wow! What a story! A true life story, not a friction. Ajibola is a friend of mine.
From the above, it is glaring that one thing that saved Murewa’s marriage was the originality of her virginity. She was brand new according to the husband. Just ask yourself: ‘Am I brand new?’ ‘Haven’t I become fairly or badly used?’

The value of virginity has been thrown into the mud in this era of hyper-civilisation. It is disheartening that many girls do have their hymens cut at their early teenage stage and they become exposed to sex such that they cannot lose count the number of men who have passed through their thighs. ‘It is one of those things. We have to enjoy our lives.’ So they are deceived by the Satanism in them.

Girls who take to the path of dignity by abstaining from the omen are stereotypically seen as social commoners and uncivilised apes. They are tagged and called unbearable names. What a laughable paradox! Those who should be mocked are the ones mocking.

The bedrock of this abnormality is the prevalence of boyfriend/girlfriend syndrome. A girl or a boy wants to have the opposite gender as a lover. What for? Ask them if they are ready for marriage, their answer is a capital NO! Why then garbage when you do not have the package? You promised each other a platonic relationship – intimacy without sex. But you know that your emotions have failed you. You are no more a virgin. You have been severally, innumerably rocked as done unto whores – prostitutes whose bodies are sold for money. Filth! Can’t you see that you are practically ruining your life by your own self?

How many girls realise that the boys or men who claim to love them dearly do mock them whenever they are with their ilks. They share with one another how you are roughly rocked by them. They tell the colour of your undergarments, your mouth and body odour et cetera. To you, they are your lovers. To them, you are laughing stock.
What if you become pregnant? Will you have the nerve to tell your parents? If you will eventually tell them, will it be with joy? I bet you will not tell them because you have disappointed them. Your surest plan will be abortion, no doubt. What if you die in the process? Or your womb is damaged? What will be your explanation to your husband later in life? Your lies may not freak him because he never met you brand new. He purchased you an expired commodity.

Dear girl, if you are still virgin, congratulations to you! Please keep it jealously, meticulously and religiously. If you are not, that should be no licence for your immoral life to linger. If you put a stop to it now, you are safe.

The prize for virginity is value – you will be eternally valued by your future husband. You will be held in high esteem. The prize for virginity is respect – you will be respected by whoever is in the know of your chaste life. The prize for virginity is dignity – you will be dignified by family and friends. The prize for virginity is honour – you will be honoured by even your foes. The prize for virginity is freedom – you will be free from guilt whenever you see those who might have rocked the world of your thighs.


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here