I don’t know if I’m overthinking or finally admitting the truth to myself, but I’ve reached a point where going back to my father’s house feels like walking straight into a fire I barely survived the first time. I’m the eldest of four, yet I’ve spent most of my life feeling like the child nobody wanted, the one everybody could punish, blame, or break without consequence.

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It started with my mother. I don’t know what I ever did to her, but one day she decided I was a problem. She accused me of all sorts of supernatural things — witchcraft, evil influences, nonsense that no mother should ever say to her own child. Slowly, it ate away at me. I went from an A student to an average student.

 

When I got to SHS, I was part of the last batch to pay fees. Life in school wasn’t easy. My provisions were Gari, sugar, one line of Milo and Nido, and shito. That was all. For pocket money, my dad gave me 20 cedis for an entire month. Meanwhile, I didn’t get dining hall meals all the time. Hunger became my companion.

 

Every time I gathered the courage to ask my dad for more money, he would insult me. I started begging friends for food until even that became humiliating. I became that girl everyone locked their chop boxes when they saw her coming. Sometimes I wasn’t even going to ask them for food, just to hang out.

 

When I got tired of begging, I did what I thought I had to do. I used part of my fees to fill my chop box. It wasn’t long before my dad found out. He dragged me to the police station to be beaten and arrested. Thankfully, they didn’t. They told him, “We don’t arrest children here. Please go home and resolve the issue.” That problem never got resolved.

 

After school, my mother and some uncles asked me to apologise to my dad, and I did. Over and over again. I tried everything to fix my relationship with him, but nothing was ever enough. I begged him for years to take me to tertiary school. Even proposed distance learning so he’d only pay fees. He always said he had no money.

 

However, when my younger sister went to SHS, he had money for everything. He emptied his pockets for her weekly. Sent her hundreds of cedis. Everything he didn’t do for me, he did for her effortlessly. When she completed, he was already planning her tertiary education. Meanwhile, I had been home for four years. When the results came, she failed all her papers except two. He didn’t even flinch. He paid a bribe to get her into school. She’s now in tertiary.

 

I became a ghost in my own home. He found fault with everything I did. Everything. Countless times, he told me to leave his house over minor issues.

 

The last straw came from something as simple as sweeping.

 

I was exhausted from a carols service at work and had to leave early the next morning, so I asked my younger sister to help me sweep. I even divided the compound and handled part of the work. By the time I left, she had swept the tenants’ side and was gathering the rubbish. I assumed everything was fine. Only for me to receive calls later that she had left the rubbish in front of our tenant’s room.

 

My dad got angry and warned me never to sweep the house again, or he’d harm me. That was when fear entered my body in a way I had never felt. Hearing his footsteps made my chest tighten. Hearing the door handle turn made me freeze. His voice alone sent something cold through me. I started staying with a friend during the day and returning home only at night to sleep. It was draining, but it was safer.

 

Just around the time, I braided my hair but couldn’t sleep from the headache. My mom fetched water to help me bathe. My dad lost it. He sent me out of the house. So I left for the sake of my own survival. I’m 23 years old, and I can’t keep shrinking myself to live in a house that breaks me.

 

After everything, he has called my uncle to say I’m not home. He now wants me to return because I have to be part of his Will. A will that I doubt I’ll ever be included in, even if I stayed in that house till eternity.

 

I don’t care about any property. I just want peace. I want to breathe without fear. I want to live without jumping at footsteps or voices. My uncle says, “If you go back and any problems arise, I will intervene. But if you insist on living with your friend, then you are on your own from now on.”

Is There A Perfect One Out There For Everyone?

My uncle wants me to choose between my newfound freedom and a family that has never chosen me. What am I supposed to do?

—Abby

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