By Rita Enemuru, Reporting
MARIANNE Osiaye was sitting on a wooden bench, with crates of empty bottles and plastic containers of cigarettes stacked around her. Despite the squalor that surrounded her, her small business area was arranged with care.
The morning light rested on her face, revealing lines and scars shaped by years of physical labour and emotional strain. Her posture was firm, exuding the attitude of a woman who took on responsibility without complaining.
She wore a white polo-shirt and a patterned wrapper that was tied around her waist, both of which told a story of endurance, not looks. Her hands, hardened by chopping firewood and paddling canoes through creeks that were swollen with water, were resting on her lap. She wore no look of self-pity whatsoever, only the strength of determination.
Fenegbene Community lay behind her in fragile silence. Weathered wooden houses stood along narrow, muddy paths, their sides worn by frequent floods. The wet ground, with domestic articles lying about, spoke of a community that lived by the dictates of water.
It was a cool morning when the Stonix News team encountered Marianne Osiaye at Fenegbene, a small settlement located in Warri South-West Local Government Area of Delta State. It seemed that from the moment she uttered a word, her life became a testimony of overcoming adversity.
Marianne introduced herself as a 56-year-old widow who has been a long-time resident of the riverine area. She revealed that she takes care of a total of 21 children, eight of whom are her biological children, as well as children from her husband’s polygamous family. “My husband married three wives before he died, and I took care of all the children,” she revealed.
Widowhood for Marianne marked the beginning of a harsher life for the woodcutter. The death of her husband made her completely responsible for feeding, educating and protecting the children. She became a provider without any help or pay.
In a chat with Stonix News, she mentioned that living in Fenegbene means there is no stable job. According to her, Fenegbene is a community where one can survive only with one’s efforts, so she does whatever work she can that yields income.
Hear her: “My name is Marianne Osiaye. I am 56 years old. I live in this Fenegbene Community. I have eight children of my own and more from my husband, making it 21 children since my husband married three wives while he was alive. My husband is late, so I am left alone to sustain the children.”
“We are just trying to survive. I cut wood for selling to survive. Apart from that, I sell soft drinks, as well as cigarettes. Occasionally, I also go fishing so that I can say that I do everything and anything to make sure that I get money to feed my family as well as to provide my children with tuition fees. I cannot do one thing; if I do that, my children would die of hunger!”
Cutting firewood, according to her, is her major source of living. She travels to the mangrove forest, cuts the firewood and then sells it. She needs strength in order to do the work, but she does it since she has to provide for her family.
Despite her strength to provide for her family, her struggle is intensified by the flooding that results from sawdust serving as the meeting ground for the community. This is because water levels rise, cutting the road that would have taken her to the bush for work. Therefore, she is forced to use a canoe to get to her work; this costs her N10,000 daily. “When it rains, everywhere floods and I must use a canoe,” she said.
However, funds for the canoe are seldom easily obtained. Marianne usually pays half of the amount upfront with a promise to finish the other half after selling firewood. When that fails, she stays in the bush until she gets enough money.
These prolonged stays are attended by hardships. She lives on garri and salt, sleeping in the bush, trying to press on with life. “For two days, I eat only garri and salt,” she says.
Besides selling firewood, Marianne sells soft drinks and cigarettes. She explained that she purchases half-crates of soft drinks, selling them bit by bit. At the end of each day, her profit is a painfully meagre N800.
“This community is always flooded if it rains, and if it rains like that, I hire a canoe to go and get firewood, and I usually hire the canoe at the cost of N10,000 daily. Sometimes, I pay half of it and refund the rest when I return.”
“Any day that I am not able to get the money for the payment, I stay in the bush for two days and ensure that I get the money for making the final payment before returning back home.
“During these days, I feed on garri and salt. When it comes to the soft drinks, I get half-crates of the soft drinks, and after selling, my profit is N800. I do not save any money since we consume any amount of money that I get daily,” she replied.
She reiterated that it is the little income she earns that is used for sustenance. Feeding 21 children takes all the naira she earns. “Any money I get, we use it to eat that same day,” she reiterated, a case of living from hand to mouth!
Marianne looked back at the past with a tinge of nostalgia. She remembered those times when her labour bore better fruit, and her basic needs were more attainable.
“Hardship actually intensified after that timeframe. Costs of living rose, and my purchasing power went down, causing me more suffering with each subsequent administration,” she lamented.
That same amount of firewood she used to sell in order to earn a living is no longer enough for her own family. It is evident that the value of her labour is undermined by the effects of inflation.
Amid the noise of Governor Sheriff Oborevwori’s wife empowering widows in the state, Marianne addressed her plea to the government directly. She asked for inclusion in widow support programmes. “If there is any scheme for widows, the government should include me and the rest here,” she said.
“Life was good with the presidency of Goodluck Jonathan, but my suffering began as soon as Buhari took over until now that we have Tinubu in power. The amount of firewood that I used to sell before, the money is no longer enough for me to live. If there is a scheme for widows, the government should include me and other widows in this community so that we can survive,” she added.
She also showed her flexibility to work in any government programme that would ensure a steady income for her. This would enable her to manage her family’s needs, as she stated: “If the government gives me work and pays me, I will manage with my family.”
Marianne Osiaye’s experience is just one reflection of the situation of many widows living in Nigeria’s riverine areas. These women are often caught up in a cycle of poverty, climate issues and official indifference.
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