Three years after marriage without a child, my wife became very desperate. We visited facilities to check what was wrong with us but it all turned out to be a waste of money because they all said the same thing: that we were fine. My wife didn’t understand why we would be fine and still not have a child, so she blamed it on the witches in her village and the covenants of her forefathers.

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She started moving from one man of God to another. She had a friend, Tilly, who was also facing the same problem. She had been married for five years without a child. These two would go anywhere that promised the cry of a child. They traveled to Kumasi, went to Sunyani, came back to Accra and later ended up traveling to Nigeria, all in the name of a child.

I had a child with my ex. She was four years old when I married my wife. Anytime I said something encouraging to my wife, she retorted, “You have a child of your own so I understand why you don’t care about my situation. It’s the reason you’ve left me alone to suffer the ridicule.”

The end of the month was always her saddest moment. You would see her opening a sanitary pad and she looked like she had just received news of her mother’s death. I did my best. When I needed to pray with her, I did. When we needed to hold hands, we did. And then it became four years without a child.

To make matters worse, her friend Tilly got pregnant and didn’t tell her about it until she found out herself. She was so hurt she came to cry on my shoulder. “I’ve been praying with her every night and traveling with her from one place to another for this good news, so why wouldn’t she tell me?”

She cried and lamented. I knew the only person left in her world to support her was me.

One Friday evening, I was seated in the hall when she dressed up and said she was attending an all-night service. She just said it and walked away. I was alone in the house thinking about all the suffering my wife was going through and asking myself if I’d done enough to show my support for her.

A few minutes after she had left, I also dressed up and decided to go to the church and be with her. We lived in Accra but the church we attended was in Tema. I got there around 10 p.m. and entered the church while they were fervently praying. I cast my eyes around looking for where my wife was seated so I could join her. For several minutes, I couldn’t see my wife.

“Ah, where is this woman? Or is she at a different corner praying?”

I searched through all the corners of the church and my wife wasn’t there. I called her and she didn’t pick up. While I sat there thinking about where she could be, she called back.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I told you I was going for an all-night service. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yeah, but I’m here and you’re nowhere to be found. Where are you seated?”

She told me she had attended a different church and not the one we attended together. I asked where and she told me. I told her I was coming there. But something didn’t add up. Where she was speaking from was so quiet it didn’t sound like she was in a church.

I got to this new church she directed me to and again she wasn’t there. I called her and she didn’t pick up. I texted her and she said she wasn’t in the main auditorium but was doing special prayers with the prayer warriors. I stood outside while looking through the church. Again, something didn’t add up.

I asked someone where the prayer warriors were and she asked, “Which prayer warriors? We all do the service here until we close. We don’t have prayer warriors in this church.”

I was standing outside the church when I saw my wife coming out of a car while tying her headscarf. I knew the car was an Uber when I saw her paying the driver. I didn’t say anything. I watched her as she walked into the church and texted, “Where are you?”

I waved at her and we continued the service until we closed. I didn’t utter a word or ask any questions.

When we got home, I took her phone. I checked and she had changed her password. I said calmly, “What’s your password? I want to use your phone to make a call.”

She asked, “What’s wrong with your phone?”

The argument started. She swore heaven and earth she wouldn’t give me her password until I told her what I was looking for on her phone. I said, “I want to know where you went when you told me you were going to an all-night service.”

She denied all the facts I presented to her, including the fact that the church she attended didn’t have prayer warriors. I kept her phone in my pocket and told her that until I went through her phone, she wasn’t going to have it.

I reported the case to her dad and we were called for a meeting. I went with the phone in my hand and told her dad, “Ask her for her password and let’s go through this together. If she’s innocent, I will give her everything she asks for, even if it’s my head on a plate.”

Her dad begged and persuaded her with all the words he knew. Her mom used Bible quotations to push her to reveal her password but she said, “Do you know what you’re really doing is illegal? Why are you doing this? My own phone?”

She didn’t say the password.

This issue went to our pastor and he invited elders of our church to intervene. My wife still refused to give her password. She even got angry at some point and left the meeting.

That day I told her to remove her things from my house if she was never going to listen to me and give me her password.

She started packing. I told her dad about it and her dad asked me to give her the phone. Her dad said, “You can go anywhere you want but definitely not this house. What is on your phone that you would rather leave your marriage than open it?”

My wife left the house and later sent some guys to attack me and collect the phone. Had it not been for other men in the house, these guys would have overpowered me for the phone. They came to my rescue and fought for me.

My landlord said, “You don’t need any other evidence again. Give her the phone and leave the marriage quietly before this turns into something else.”

I still have the phone though we’ve been separated for over five months. I want her to initiate the divorce so we can go through the phone in court. She tells people our marriage is over but she hasn’t had the courage to go to court to seek an official divorce.

Men Don’t Like It When Women Do The Paying

I will never grant her a divorce until I see what is on this phone. She’s now living with her friend. I still have most of her things in this house and she tells me to keep them.

I’m sharing this story hoping she will read it. Dear, if you read it, I want you to know that come rain or shine, we’ll read what is on this phone one day, either together or alone. Mark it anywhere you want.

—Jude 

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