The widow’s trial: When loss becomes a life sentence

A woman whose husband dies must prove her innocence, while a man who loses his wife is simply a grieving widower. Where is the justice in that?” says Nkechi Kelvin.

Widowhood in most Nigerian cultures is not just a personal loss but a social ordeal as well. When a man dies, his wife is subjected to dehumanizing rituals to prove her innocence, maintain cultural beliefs, or dictate her future.

These traditions vary among ethnic groups but share a common thread—the subjugation of widows. Some are forced to shave their heads, drink water used to wash their late husband’s corpse, or endure prolonged isolation. These practices inflict severe physical and psychological trauma, from which many never fully recover.

For most widows, the grief of losing a husband is only the beginning; what follows is humiliation, forced isolation, and brutal treatment at the hands of in-laws and community elders.

“I remember the evening my husband died,” recalls 35-year-old Nkechi Kelvin, her voice trembling. “I was in shock, trying to make sense of my loss, but even before his body turned cold, his relatives arrived. They told me I must sleep beside his corpse for three nights to prove I did not kill him. I was terrified, but I had no choice.”

Nkechi’s experience is not unique. Many Nigerian widows are treated as suspects, accused of bringing misfortune upon their husbands. Some are forced to drink the water used to bathe their husband’s corpse as a so-called cleansing ritual. Others are locked away in dark rooms, forbidden from seeing or speaking to anyone.

These practices severely impact their mental health, leading to depression, anxiety, and, in extreme cases, suicide. Amina Mahmud shares her ordeal:

“I was forced to sit on the floor for weeks, wearing only a single garment, as people jeered at me. They blamed me for my husband’s death because he had taken a second wife. My mother-in-law accused me of witchcraft. My children saw everything but were powerless to help.”

For women like Amina and Nkechi, widowhood rituals are not traditions but acts of cruelty that strip them of dignity and plunge them into despair.

Beyond the emotional and psychological torment, Nigerian widows face another harsh reality—the battle for inheritance. Despite statutory laws that protect widows’ rights, customary laws often leave them at the mercy of male relatives. In many communities, a widow is not entitled to her husband’s estate and is left destitute.

“When my husband died, his brothers came the next day and took everything—his vehicle, his business, even money in our joint account. They told me that, as a woman, I had no claim to any of it. They evicted me from my home, leaving me and my children with nowhere to go,” says Nkechi, who has been battling her in-laws in court for over five years.

Harmful widowhood practices are outlawed under Nigeria’s Violence Against Persons (Prohibition) Act, 2015, which prescribes a penalty of two years imprisonment or a fine of N500,000 for offenders. However, the law provides little consolation to widows.

Legal battles drag on for years, and most widows cannot afford the cost of litigation. Some resign themselves to a life of poverty, while others seek assistance from Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) in the hope of rebuilding their lives.

For widows like Nkechi, organizations such as the Ashake Foundation offer a lifeline. Founded by Mayowa Adegbile in 2013, the NGO has been instrumental in helping Nigerian widows reclaim their dignity and financial independence. What began with just 22 widows and 36 children has grown into a foundation that has transformed countless lives.

“When I joined the Ashake Foundation, I had nothing,” says Esther Balogun, a widow who has benefited from the foundation’s programs. “They gave me money to start a small business. Now, I run a tailoring shop and can provide for my children. I no longer have to beg for help.”

The Ashake Foundation offers more than financial assistance. It provides widows with vocational training, legal aid, and counseling to help them heal from emotional trauma. Many widows, shunned by society, find a sense of belonging through the foundation.

“One of the biggest challenges widows face is loneliness,” says Amara Uzo, a social worker with the foundation. “Many widows are ostracized. We provide them with a support system that nurtures healing and renewal.”

One of the foundation’s most effective programs is its back-to-school initiative for widows’ children. Many widows, having lost their property and financial security, are unable to afford school fees, forcing their children to drop out. The foundation sponsors these children, breaking the cycle of poverty widowhood often brings.

“The first time I walked into the Ashake Foundation office, I felt hope for the first time in years,” Esther continues. “They told me I wasn’t alone, that my life was not over because my husband died. They helped me fight for my rights, and now I am standing on my own two feet.”

Other organizations, such as the Women Advocate Research and Documentation Centre (WARDC) and Women Empowerment and Legal Aid (WELA), also work to support widows in Nigeria.

Despite the efforts of NGOs, the battle against widowhood rituals and discrimination is far from over. Cultural change is slow, and many widows continue to suffer in silence.

Legal reforms must be enforced to ensure that all Nigerian women, regardless of ethnicity or religion, have equal inheritance rights and protection from harmful practices.

Community education campaigns are necessary to raise awareness about the psychological harm caused by these rituals.

Nigeria must evolve with the changing world. Widowhood should not be a life sentence of humiliation and suffering. Organizations like the Ashake Foundation are leading the fight, but much work remains to ensure no widow is subjected to oppressive traditions.

Amina’s words echo long after our conversation ends: “I didn’t just lose my husband. I lost my freedom, my rights, and my dignity. But I won’t lose hope.”