We got married in February, in the month of love. He was my first love. The only man who had seen my nakedness. I counted myself blessed to have married the first man I ever had a relationship with.

In March, he started talking about travelling abroad. He had a good job and drew a good salary but according to him, the pasture was greener on the other side so he decided to travel abroad.

He left Ghana a week after Easter. I was two months pregnant. Left to me alone, he wouldn’t have travelled. I needed him. I needed him to be a husband to a pregnant wife. I needed him around the baby so when the baby mentions “Dada” as his first word, the two of us could argue; “I carried him for nine months and breastfed him all these months but he mentioned Dada first? That’s not fair.” Then he would counter my point and say something like, “Because Dada is the soul of the family.”

When he was leaving me, I cried in his arms. I even packed my things and playfully told him I would go with him. He made promises. Promises mothers make to their children when they are leaving the house and the child wants to follow; “Stay, when I’m coming I’ll buy you a car, OK? If you follow me I won’t buy you anything.”

Mom will go and still come empty-handed. My husband promised to come for me in a year or two. “Once I get my papers, which shouldn’t take a lot of time, I’ll come back for you so we travel together.”

I nodded my head with a heart full of understanding like the child whose mother promised him a car on her return. My husband left the country and the next time I saw his face again was five years later.

I was married for five years but had only two months of experience. I was worried. We talked every day when he travelled. I kept telling him; “If things are as hard as you say, why don’t you come back home? We were not starving. I had a job and you also had a good job. A great future flickered before our eyes before you decided to leave. Come back and let’s do it again.”

Of course, he didn’t come back. He told me things would be better. He was going to get his documents soon and life would be better. He couldn’t get it until five years later. When he came back, our child was five years old. He didn’t know his father. It looked strange to him to see a man lying next to us. He cried. He wanted him out of our bed. When he finally settled in, my son became very dull. He wouldn’t play with his father or even me. It was like I’d given his place to someone else, a stranger so he was disappointed in me and didn’t want anything to do with this stranger.

I asked my husband, “Now that you’re here, what next?”

He told me, “I have my documents now. That’s why I’m back. Start doing your passport. Once I’m gone, I’ll start the process so you two can join me.”

I was happy. Not because of travelling abroad but because of the opportunity to live with my husband again. He spent two months in Ghana before going back abroad. Weeks after he had gone, I found out that I was pregnant.

He was happy. Going through all the stress alone the second time didn’t look like something I should be enthused about but I managed a smile when telling him I was pregnant. He kept assuring me that plans were underway for me to join him.

Our second child was two years old and we were still here in Ghana accepting promises and assurances. I stopped asking him at some point until I heard his senior brother had joined him abroad. I was heartbroken but I didn’t register any displeasure. I also felt if he had been able to help his brother travel abroad, then the road would be paved for us to travel to him very soon. I kept my fingers crossed and kept praying for him.

One day I asked about it again. He gave me the same excuses he had given me since the beginning of time. I chirped, “You were able to send your brother abroad. How did you do it?” His answer was, “He’s my brother. That’s different.”

He came home four years later. Our first child was almost ten years old and the second was four years.

The night he arrived, he wanted sex. I didn’t give him. He was shocked. He tried making it about me, accusing me of seeing someone else. I was firm. I told him, “Don’t plunge us into this conversation. You want to tell me that for over nine years that you’ve been away, you haven’t seen any woman? I won’t be surprised if you live with one or married to one but that’s not the issue. The issue is this, I’m not ready to carry another pregnancy while you’re away. If you’ve come to stay, then fine but you and I know you haven’t so leave me alone.”

He was in Ghana for three weeks. Yes, eventually I gave in to sex but I ensured I was protected. When he was leaving, he told me, “Next year by this time, we would be together. We’ll do our wedding all over again abroad to celebrate our tenth year.”

A year walked by slowly. Nothing happened. I called him at dawn. It was dawn in Ghana but early morning where he was. I told him, “I’m walking out of the marriage. It’s ten years late but it’s better late than never. We’ll return your drink to your family this week so I can initiate the court process.”

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He didn’t think I was serious. He thought I was using that as a threat to get him to come for me. I went to his parents all alone with the drink in my hand. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do or say once I gave them the drink but when I got there, I did something. I cried. I told them I was tired of being lonely. I told them they should help me take the burden off me. They called my parents to ask if they knew about it. They denied knowledge. I left the drink there and went back home. To me, it was the beginning of the end.

My husband called. He was livid. He spoke with thunderclaps and brimstone but the calm in my heart wasn’t threatened. I told him, “I’m serious. Thank you for giving me two kids. They are the only benefit I had in this marriage. We are over. It’s not a threat. If you call tomorrow to give me documents to travel to you, I’ll reject it. I’m over you and everything we had.”

It was slow but I was able to get the divorce. When my parents couldn’t force my hand to stay in the marriage, they gave me their support with the caveat that said, “I hope you don’t regret it in future.”

A year later, my husband got married again. The lady was someone close. I knew her and I knew the connection between them when we were married. I will be honest, I didn’t suspect they were seeing each other and I want to believe they were not. A couple of months after the marriage, the lady travelled abroad to be with my ex-husband. I would be honest again, it hurt a little but it made me feel that I was right all along. I didn’t cry about it. I didn’t mourn. Life again showed me the other side so I took it like that.

They set their eyes on my kids. They passed through my parents, asking them to convince me to send my kids abroad to live with them. I laughed. I called him personally and told him, “Even if I were a cripple and blind at the same time, I wouldn’t allow another woman to take care of my kids. What have you done for them since you became their father? You might need to kill me first.”

Two years later, their marriage collapsed. The woman took him to court and he lost everything including the house they were living in. I told my mom, “And you wanted my kids to be at the centre of all this? You guys don’t see what I see.”

I’m not happy sharing this part of the story but as I write this, he’s back in Ghana, starting all over again. He’s not poor. He’s not suffering financially but emotionally, he’s not there. He comes around to say hello to the kids. He brings them gifts. I allow them to visit him on weekends. He calls to say thank you. “After everything that happened, you still don’t hate me,” he said. I responded in my head, “I hate you and hate everything you did to me but you gave me kids. I can’t keep them for myself because they are yours as much as they are mine.”   

My parents think we should try again since I’m still single. His parents also think the same way. He comes to me trying to prove he’s a new man—the man I always wanted him to be. My mom was like, “You wanted him here with you and now he has decided to be here. Give him another try. Ain’t you lonely?”

I gave her a side eye and walked away.

What One Lesson Did You Learn From Your Dad?

I need a man in my life but not a man in my house. The two are different. I have someone already in my life. I get whatever I need from a man from him. I don’t want him in my house. It’s the reason no one knows about him. I’m over forty years old. I’ve done marriage before and I’m not doing it again. It’s time to enjoy a man without necessarily bringing him home to make him all mine. I don’t want stress at forty. I only want what will bring peace to my life and that of my kids.   

—Vicky

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