‘Watching my world collapse’: The plight of Nigeria’s widows
In Nigeria, women whose husbands have died can face stigma, suspicion and families determined to take away what little they have left.
In Nigeria, stories abound of widows being forced to drink the water used to wash their husband’s corpse – in the belief that it will kill them if they are guilty of causing his death – or of being made to declare their innocence before a local deity.
The stigma, or outright rejection, a woman who has lost her husband can face often leaves her abandoned. Superstition causes other women to believe they may lose their husbands if they associate with a widow, while some men fear they, too, will die.
Such stigmatising practices have been outlawed in Nigeria since 2015 under the Violence Against Persons Prohibition Law and are subject to a 500,000 naira ($1,220) fine or two years in prison, but so far only 23 out of Nigeria’s 36 states have formally adopted these laws into their own statutes, and cultural practices continue regardless.
Many must abide by strict traditional practices in widowhood such as cutting their hair short, wearing only dark clothes and remaining isolated at home for a period of 41 days, while others lose their property as it is claimed by their husband’s relatives.
While Nigeria’s laws of inheritance provide for women to inherit from their husbands, many defer to local, traditional practices instead. These can be deeply patriarchal. A widow’s fate, therefore, can depend entirely on the goodwill of her late husband’s family.
As the United Nations highlights International Widows’ Day today, with the theme “Invisible Women, Invisible Problems”, we shine a light on the realities of life for Yoruba widows in Ibadan, Nigeria.
Elizabeth Adebowale: mother became hostile to me’
When Samson Adebowale died from liver disease in July 2012 at the age of 39, he left behind his wife, Elizabeth, now 44, and two small children aged three and five.
He also left behind a family dispute.
In May 2012, Samson had complained of fever and stomach ‘His pain. Like many low-income Nigerians who wish to avoid expensive hospital tests and appointments, he first went to the local pharmacist who gave him some medication for the pain. But he did not get better.
Days later, the couple received a diagnosis at the hospital – liver disease. During the next two months, they frantically tried four different hospitals, but none of them could help him. They spent all their money on medical bills and their joint business, selling mobile phone top-up cards, suffered.
There is no universal healthcare system in Nigeria. The government does subsidise low-cost insurance policies, but even these are out of the reach of many poor people, particularly those who earn a daily wage rather than a monthly or annual salary.
In July, Samson asked his wife and two of his siblings to take him to a prayer mountain – a sacred space on a mountaintop where prayers and other religious practices take place – in a last bid for a miracle cure. He died there. Elizabeth was distraught, and her relationship with her husband’s family quickly turned sour.
“His mother became very hostile to me. She said terrible things to me; that fate had decided that I would be a widow,” says Elizabeth. She did not retaliate, she says, because of the traditional expectation that women must always be respectful to their mothers-in-law. Then, Samson’s family demanded that Elizabeth sell the couple’s land on which they had started construction work to build a new home.
“His brother told me that they wanted to buy land where they could bury him in Abeokuta. So, they had to sell the land we owned together.” While Samson’s brother had no legal rights over the land, his demand came from a traditional belief in the community that a man’s land is owned by his brothers.
Samson’s brother seized some of his other property, including some bicycles, his widow says. However, she refused to sell the land because it was all that her husband had left behind. Instead, she wanted him buried there so that their children would be able to visit his grave and still have the land as an inheritance.
She moved swiftly, asking gravediggers to dig a grave on the plot. This made it difficult for his family because there is a traditional belief among Yoruba people that once a grave is dug, the person for whom it was intended has to be buried there; not doing so could spell bad luck for the family of the deceased.
They were surprised at her refusal to give in to their demands, Elizabeth says, but ultimately they backed down. She has not heard from them since.
To support her children, she worked as an attendant at a petrol station and learned how to sew clothes and school bags. She used the income to send her children to school.
“Things were very tough for us but I know that as long as I have my hands and good health, we will not