MATAN ASOKORO Complete Document Written By Maman Shakur

Description

The setting was a vision of elegance, resembling an upscale office with its lengthy couch donned in soft cushions and throw pillows. A desk occupied the space, adorned with a desktop, a keyboard, and an array of other office essentials. A bookshelf graced the room, each book adorning a unique and delicate beauty. The room itself exuded a tranquil ambiance, the air within cool and refreshing.

Seated on the plush office sofa was a woman, seemingly in her mid-thirties, her legs crossed as she fidgeted, her feet revealing a reddish hue. She wore a pair of simple, undecorated Hermes shoes in a striking orange shade, matching her Hermes bag, also in an exquisite orange hue. Her attire was a long, lavish dress intricately adorned with Akamai stone work, its expensive atama fabric reflecting opulence. Her voluminous veil was absent, revealing the lower portion of her naira. Despite her stunning appearance, tears streamed down her face as she held an iPhone 12 Pro Max, a faint smile gracing her lips, showcasing her radiant, chocolate-hued complexion, exuding an air of contentment and bliss.

At the sound of the door opening, she looked up, her eyes meeting those of the chocolate-skinned doctor in the room. The doctor was attired in a white lab coat, embodying professionalism amidst her casual, yet chic, appearance. Her half-gown, a striking crimson hue, peeked from beneath the lab coat, while her hands were preoccupied with a sleek pad, a small pen evident beneath, jotting down notes as she smiled and entered the room. The sorrow in her eyes was apparent as she settled into her chair and tapped on her pad.

“Hello, Mrs. Bakori, isn’t it?” the doctor greeted. The woman nodded silently. Retrieving the pad, the doctor took a seat opposite her and crossed her legs, placing the pad on her lap. “This is your first time at our facility, right?” she inquired.

“Right,” affirmed Gyadamata, nodding in affirmation.

The doctor continued, “My name is Dr. Elizabeth Matthew Browns. I am the psychotherapist at this facility. Before we begin, I want to assure you that anything we discuss here is strictly confidential. Your information and identity are safe with us. Feel free to talk to me, your counselor, consultant, therapist, and more. So, Mrs. Bakori…” she trailed off, her gaze fixed on the woman.

Gyadamata, holding her pad and pen, lifted her head and regarded the doctor, “I’d like to get to know you better. Tell me about yourself.”

“Hassana Lawal Bakori, we are twins. I have a sister, Hussaina, but she resides in Dubai, not Nigeria. I am 35 years old, married to Alhaji Alhassan Bakori,” she responded softly. The doctor looked at her with understanding and inquired about her children, mentioning the Canadian children in her records. Gyadamata confirmed, “Oh yes, I have two sons, Khalid and Khalil. They’re twins, currently attending boarding school. They are 14 years old and in SS2.”

Curiously, the doctor asked, “So, does that mean you’ve only given birth once? How long have you been married?”

“For 15 years,” Gyadamata answered. The doctor probed further, “Why? Why did you choose to stop giving birth? Was it due to health complications?”

Gyadamata smiled and replied, “My husband doesn’t want many children until I give birth.”

The doctor smiled knowingly and probed gently, “So, Mrs. Bakori, why are you here? What would you like to discuss with me? How can I help you?” Her calm and gentle demeanor sought to encourage a sense of ease and trust.

Gyadamata, her hands clasped together, slowly straightened herself, placing her phone beside her, and began, “It’s about my husband.” The doctor nodded understandingly, encouraging her to continue. Silence enveloped the room as Gyadamata’s voice trembled, “I don’t have feelings for my husband! I don’t find him attractive! I don’t love him! But whenever he approaches me, I feel miserable. I don’t understand why I’m like this. I need help, serious help.” The doctor listened intently, noting down her patient’s words on the pad. Gyadamata looked at her, seemingly aware of the doctor’s note-taking. The doctor asked softly, “Would you like some coffee, tea, or water? It’s customary at our facility for all our visitors.” Gyadamata shook her head, declining the offer, and the doctor continued, “There have been reports of troubling behavior from your husband. Is he being abusive? Does he harm you in any way?” Gyadamata fidgeted with her feet, then confessed softly, “Not physically, but my husband often berates me. He scolds me for speaking, even in his presence, even when I say nothing.”

The doctor paused, considering her response, before asking, “Do you believe that…”

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