My wife asked for a divorce. She had a list of things I’d done and how she had tried over the years to make me change them. It’s a long list of things, but the most important thing to her was the fact that I didn’t help her when she was pregnant, and also when the baby came, I did nothing to help. Our baby was two years old, and according to her, I’d done nothing to help.

She asked if I knew how to change diapers or how to make a baby stop crying. I didn’t know. She was right about some of the things she said, but she was wrong about many of them. I didn’t seek to argue. I told her divorce wouldn’t make anything better, so we should try and resolve things. She said no and said she was going to initiate the divorce.

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Her parents didn’t agree to the divorce. My parents stepped in to plead on my behalf, and I also did the same. Our pastor called for counselling for the two of us, but my wife insisted on divorce. Since no one would agree to her divorcing me and I wouldn’t also agree to it, I didn’t leave the house. She rented the house, and it became our marital home because it was big enough.

She insisted I should leave, but I didn’t. I was bent on healing what was broken.

On my son’s birthday, my wife posted him on her status and began the caption with, “It’s not easy for me as a single mom, but I’ll do my best for you no matter what…”

I approached her to change that caption, especially when all my friends started calling and asking why my wife was calling herself a single mom. I asked her to edit it. She said, “We are no longer married. Why can’t I call myself a single mom?”

We share the same bed. Yes, she doesn’t allow intimacy, but we live and do everything married couples would do. No matter what I said, she wouldn’t change the caption. And then I heard her on the phone explaining to her friend why she’s a single mom. “Alice, I’ve been a single mom since marriage. But you guys won’t know because I hardly share my story.”

Her friend asked where I was, and she told her she didn’t know my whereabouts since the divorce. I was seated right next to her. I called my pastor and told him. He encouraged me to have patience in the Lord and manage the situation.

She would cook and, right before me, spit into the food to deter me from eating some of it when she’s not looking. She would spit into everything she suspected I would touch. I would give her chop money, and she would throw it back at me. She turned off the fridge I bought and asked me to carry it away because she had bought a new one.

I had the patience to tolerate all that because it was my fault we were where we were. And then she started staying out late. On weekends, she would take our boy to her parents and start going out with her friends who were not married. Everything was on her status. The chilling, the drinking, dancing with men, and doing makeup like she was a night worker. She said she was celebrating her independence as a woman.

My friends talked. My family talked. My elder brother was so angry that I was still in the marriage. One evening, a man came to drop her at the house. She came out of the car, waved the man goodbye, and blew him a kiss. I was standing at the window looking at her. When she entered and I asked who that man was, she said, “That’s for me. You can also go out and look for a woman if you miss having one.”

That night, the argument was heated. I felt demeaned and humiliated in my own house. When I warned her not to disrespect me, she screamed, “Who are you to warn me? I slept with him. Do your worst.”

I did my worst. I threw my hand, and it landed on her cheek. I didn’t mean to, but she pushed me too far. I quickly apologised, but the next morning, I had a call from the police station. My wife had reported that her ex-husband had entered her house and had beaten her mercilessly. I went to the station, and I was arrested. When I told them what actually happened, they didn’t believe me.

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My parents came and shed light on the situation. Her own parents came to the station to ask the police to release me, but they didn’t. I was there all day until she came to drop the case in the evening. I got home, packed my things, and left the house.

In my heart, I know I should let her go, but everything around me says I should continue working on the marriage for the sake of our son. At this point, it’s no longer love but a sense of duty. And also, after the police issue, I’ve realised she has toned down. She talks to me nicely. She laughs louder than before. I want to continue, but something inside tells me I should move on because we’ve gone too far to heal.

What do you suggest?

—Dada Fii

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