I’m very forgetful when it comes to passwords, so I usually set a basic one. I use my birthdate and throw in a few characters as the system requires. Because of this, I maintain one password for everything.

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My husband wanted to use my phone, and I gave him the password. It was the thousandth time I was giving him the same password, but this time he was attentive. He asked me to repeat it as if he didn’t want to forget. I did so slowly until he was able to go through my phone.

He used my phone and handed it back to me peacefully. From that day, anytime he wanted to use my phone, he would just reach for it and start using it without asking me for the password. I was proud of him and his ability to memorize my password. I think I even felt loved. At least, he had been able to keep one more thing about me.

One day, I went through my MoMo wallet and realized I had lost close to GHC9,000. My heart started racing, and my mind began to wander. I hadn’t engaged with any fraudster who tried to outsmart me. I went through my memory, and I hadn’t made any such transactions. I sell online, so most of my customers pay through MoMo.

I went through my transaction messages, trying to see where and when I made those transactions. That amount didn’t reflect anywhere in my messages, but the money was gone. I asked my husband, “Those fraudsters who steal from MoMo, can they do it even when they haven’t talked to you?”

He responded, “Not necessarily, but some people can make a payment and then reverse it later. It could be the reason you’re losing money.”

I called MTN and was so angry, wondering why they would reverse money without informing me. The lady asked how much I had lost, and I reported it. She asked if I had checked my statement to see if those transactions had indeed happened. It dawned on me, and I checked. The dates were there. I had withdrawn those amounts in three batches on different dates.

It hurt me for weeks. I started transferring every amount from my MoMo wallet to my bank account as soon as I received it. I didn’t stop wondering about the missing money, but this time I was very careful about my online dealings.

Another day, I made withdrawals from my bank app, and the available balance looked suspicious. I knew I should have had more than what the app was displaying. I checked again. I refreshed the app. I switched off my phone and switched it back on. I was still seeing the same amount. I did the math. I was losing close to GHC17,000.

I contacted the bank immediately and went through the process with them. They said I had withdrawn the money myself and gave me the date and location of the transaction. Then he said, “On this date, you withdrew GHC4,000 at 4 a.m. at our Madina ATM.”

The time. The location. That was all I needed to know who was stealing my money—my husband.

He goes jogging at dawn. That dawn, when he had left, I couldn’t sleep again, so I looked around for my phone. I found his phone but couldn’t find mine. I used his phone to call mine, and he picked up. We burst out laughing. He joked that he had picked my phone, thinking it was his. He withdrew the money that dawn. What he did was take my phone with him while withdrawing the money so he could delete the transaction messages.

My ATM PIN is the same as my MoMo PIN, and it’s the same combination I use as my phone’s password. The day he memorized my password, he had an agenda and he carried it out flawlessly until the details exposed him.

He denied ever touching my money and even threatened me with a family summons for accusing the lord of the house of stealing. “Why would I do that? Do I even know the money you have in your account? Ah, what do you take me for?”

I answered, “ATM machines record a person using the machine. Should I ask the bank to provide it? Should we go that far?”

Then his voice mellowed a little, as if accepting defeat, yet he still had the courage to deny it. By morning, he was apologizing to me that indeed he had taken the money. “The kids’ fees needed to be paid. Rent and utilities. I was overwhelmed. Dad has also been sick. I didn’t have money and didn’t know how to ask.”

That was also a lie from the pit of hell. I had paid the fees and had bought drugs for his dad with my own money. Even when he had to buy the drugs from outside, I ordered them and paid, hoping he would refund me but he never did. I confronted him directly that he was lying, so he should confess what he needed the money for.

I probed and probed and even threatened divorce, something I later regretted and apologized for, but my husband stuck to his story. But the truth always finds its way home, no matter how long it roams the streets.

He was right next to me when that lady called my phone, telling me she had a child with my husband but that my husband had stopped taking care of them.

I said, “He’s here. I can give the phone to him.” He took the phone. “Belinda, what sort of lie is that? Do you want to destroy my marriage? What child?” But liars are not smart. He had already cut the call and was pretending to argue with the girl. I clapped for him, but I was collapsing on the inside.

I spoke to the lady later. It was my husband who had rented the place she was living in when the pregnancy happened. He tried setting up a shop for her, but he didn’t get the resources to finish it. Maybe that was when I started noticing the missing money.

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He is now living in his parents’ house, though I pushed him out to live with the lady. I don’t know why he went to his parents’ house. We are still on the case, and the fact that I’m sharing this story here means I’m over the marriage. They’ll talk, and I will nod, but my stance remains the same. I don’t want the marriage any longer. He gave me two children, but he wants more, so he should go ahead and have more. What I won’t allow is for me to pay for his extramarital affairs, no way.

—Adazewa  

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