Where is my Husband?’ Myster!ous d!sappearance of Police Sergeant after his father’s bur!al
Mrs Blessing Odion, a mother of three, has been through a rollercoaster of emotions since her husband, James Austin, a Police Sergeant, mysteriously disappeared in 2019.
The memory of that fateful day still lingers in her mind like a dark cloud. She and her husband, along with members of her husband’s family and well-wishers, had gathered in Okpohumi village, Afuze, in Owan East Local Government Area of Edo State, to bid a final farewell to her father-in-law in a sombre burial ceremony held on May 31, 2019. She went to bed with her husband but woke up at 5 a.m. the next morning to find her husband’s side of the bed eerily vacant, with his whereabouts unknown.
Visit to her house
The terrain leading to Mrs. Odion’s residence in the Idubafen area of Badagry, Lagos State, was challenging. From the Elija bus stop on the Badagry/Seme expressway, Lagos, one must navigate a motorbike through an unpaved road littered with potholes, making every bump a jarring experience. The street was a maze of buildings under construction, with few completed structures standing like beacons of hope.
As I stepped into her humble home, I saw a sight that spoke volumes about the family’s pains. The uncompleted building, with only one window fixed, while the rest were covered with polythene and empty cement bags, seemed to whisper tales of hardship and resilience.
She welcomed me with a gentle smile on her frail, oval face with sunken eyes, and invited me to sit in one of the old, torn chairs, neatly arranged.
She poured out her heart like someone who had longed to unbottle her emotions, finally finding a safe and willing listener.
The disappearance
Her words tumbled out in a rush, a mix of tears, sighs, and quivering lips, as she unburdened herself of the weight she had carried for so long. She narrated: “About 5:00 a.m., after the burial of my father-in-law, my mother-in-law woke me up and asked where my husband was.
“She said my husband was not in bed, and I suggested maybe he had gone to ease himself, but she wasn’t sure. I jumped up, and we started searching for him, but we didn’t see him. To this day, we still don’t know where he is.”
Harsh reality
“I was two months pregnant with our third child when my husband disappeared, and now that child is four years old and has never known his father. Coping with the pregnancy was incredibly difficult. If it weren’t for my mother’s family, who helped me, I don’t know what would have happened. I was in the hospital at one point, and I didn’t even know how I got there. I thought I had lost the baby, and to be honest, I wanted to lose the pregnancy because the suffering was too much. I had no food to eat and was in a desperate state.
I stayed in the village for four months until I got transport fare to take my two children and me back to Lagos. Upon our return to Lagos, we faced a housing crisis when the landlord evicted us due to unpaid rent from our apartment at Ile-Epo.
I packed our belongings to the shop where I was sewing. Again, my landlord at the shop evicted me and threw my belongings outside. It was the church community that came to my aid. With the demolition of the shop underway, my possessions were left stranded outside, and I had nowhere to go.
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Thankfully, the church members rallied around me, and offered support and assistance. Some even donated money to help me secure a new apartment. However, the well-wishers who contributed to my fund advised me to use the money to build a small room on my husband’s land, which is located nearby, so that my children and I could have a place to call home. I took that counsel and brought my children here. I was the one who forced my husband to roof it before going for the burial. He wanted us to come back from the burial before roofing, but I insisted.
“There were no doors or windows in the main entrance when we came. We occupied it like that. To make ends meet, I helped people clear bushes. At times, I would single-handedly clear half a plot or full plot. At other times, I would pack sand and fetch water at building sites here or even carry blocks.
“I earned between N5,000 and N10,000. Out of what I earned from the site, I bought the door for the main entrance (points at it) and one window. I continued working on the site until I delivered my third child, who is four years old today.”
Python’s visit
As I gazed around the house, my eyes lingered on the open window, and I couldn’t help but wonder if reptiles might find their way inside. I posed the question to her, and she responded with a bewildering account of a past encounter with a python.
Recounting the tale in a voice dripping with a mix of fear and fascination, she said, “After my baby’s naming, a python appeared here that night. My baby’s cry woke me from sleep. When I stood up to feed him, I saw the snake on the mat. I was so shocked and confused that I threw the baby down and ran to call a relative for help. By the time help came, the snake was nowhere to be found,” She said, her eyes steadied onto mine, filled with a haunting intensity.
Continuing, she said, “That was the day I knew I had to leave this place, but I had nowhere else to go. My in-laws abandoned me. They called me names . My children and I are products of the benevolence of kind-hearted Nigerians.”
Police report
“Immediately after my husband’s mysterious disappearance in the village, one of my brothers-in-law accompanied me to the Police station in Afuze, where we reported the matter and I was given a signal paper. Two years later, while working at a site, I met a man who claimed to be a police officer and referred me to the Lagos State Police Command headquarters in Ikeja.
“I was told to bring the signal document they gave me in Afuze, but unfortunately, I had misplaced it. I also visited the Police division in Okokomaiko, where my husband served, but was informed that he was transferred to another division before the incident happened.”.
Children’s involvement
Just as we were deep in conversation, the sound of footsteps echoed from the entrance, and her children burst into the room, their faces lit up with excitement. But as they took in the sight of me, a stranger sitting in their living room, their expressions changed. “Mummy, who is this?” the eldest among them asked, with curiosity and a hint of wariness. With a warm and reassuring smile, she beckoned the children to come closer and, with her eyes crinkling at the corners, gestured for them to sit beside her.
She continued, “These are my children: my first daughter is Divine, 15 years old; my second son is Augustine, 11 years old; and my last daughter is Testimony Arekpitan, four years old. Most times, the youngest keeps asking after her father, and I tell her he travelled to America because I don’t know how to explain what happened to her.
“My children also help me to clear bushes at the site when they are not in school. When there is no work on site, I sell pepper, tomatoes, and vegetables. This isn’t the type of life my husband wanted for his children… But they have no choice but to live with the harsh reality until help comes our way,” she said in disappointment.
Asked if her husband could have been stung by the ‘japa’ bug and left the shores of the country without her knowledge, she shook her head in disagreement, saying, ‘My husband and I never quarrelled, not even once, which would have warranted him to leave for another place without telling me. Yes, he had plans to travel out of the country. He told me that when he was done with the house, he would travel out. But all the documents he was processing for the travel are at home; his passport too is at home”, she stated.
Each passing day, according to her, has been a cruel reminder of the absence of her 42-year-old husband, a constant ache that has left her heart heavy with grief and her spirit crushed by uncertainty. The once vibrant and loving mother of three has been reduced to a mere shadow of her former self, her smile extinguished, and her voice cracking with emotion as she whispers a single, haunting plea: ‘Where is my husband?’”
As the days turn into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years, her hope begins to flicker like a dying candle in the wind, threatening to snuff out the last vestiges of her sanity. Yet, still she waits, her love for James refusing to surrender to the darkness that has engulfed her life.
