The story about Jennifer yesterday almost brought tears to my eyes. It reminded me of myself sixteen years ago. My wife and I had just gotten married. She was working a federal job while I was a young lecturer in a city about twelve to fourteen hours’ drive from hers in Nigeria. Frankly, it was tough.

At some point, I told her to resign after all attempts to secure a transfer had failed. I was fed up because I couldn’t understand how I could be married and still live like a bachelor. Naturally, you wouldn’t expect her to just agree. She had her own personal needs, and her family also looked up to her because she was the first person in the family to get a meaningful job.

We went back and forth over the issue until she finally agreed to resign.

She wrote the resignation letter and tearfully submitted it to her boss, who forwarded it to the director of the institution. I travelled to her location with my car and moved the first set of her belongings. Everything was happening the way I wanted, but something inside me still felt unsettled. So I went to see one of my professors, who was also my mentor. I explained everything to him. He listened quietly and remained silent for a while after I finished speaking.

Then he told me categorically, “Ask your wife to go back to work and withdraw the resignation letter.”

I opened my mouth in amazement. He explained that love alone was not the only thing a marriage needed. According to him, the financial consequences of her resignation would affect her, affect me, and eventually put unnecessary pressure on our young marriage.

He obviously knew how much I was earning as a young lecturer. He told me he understood how I felt about living apart from my wife, but I should endure it until she found another job or managed to secure a transfer. He also promised to help in whatever way he could.

I sorrowfully listened to his advice and took my wife back. Luckily for us, because of the good relationship she had with her bosses, the resignation was withdrawn.

Did she get another job or a transfer immediately? No. We lived apart for about five years before she finally got a transfer of service to my university. Five years. Was it easy? No. But today, that same woman is a deputy director. She has more connections than I do, knows more people than I do, and earns more than I do.

Do I regret waiting? No. If I were put in the same situation again, would I wait? Yes. Her retaining her job and eventually relocating to join me has been an immeasurable blessing to me and our children. I am honestly proud and sometimes amazed by what she has been able to help me accomplish over the years, especially in the present unsmiling economy of Nigeria.

That is why Jennifer’s story touched me. I wish she wouldn’t hastily resign from a job where she earns more than twice her husband’s income. I also wish her husband would swallow his ego and seriously consider relocating instead. From where I sit, there may even be more opportunities available to him in Accra. And if he makes that sacrifice and relocates for the sake of the marriage, I hope Jennifer will also recognise what that decision costs him and give him all the support he needs until he finds his feet.

Is There A Man Out There Who Doesn’t Cheat?

Marriage sometimes requires sacrifice, but sacrifice should not automatically mean destroying the stronger financial foundation of the home. Whatever Jennifer eventually decides, I wish her the very best. But if sixteen years of marriage have taught me anything, it is this: love alone does not guarantee the success of a marriage.

There are bills to pay. Those bills will not disappear because two people love each other. In fact, as the years go by and children, school fees, rent, health, family responsibilities, and other needs enter the picture, the bills will likely increase for the next twenty years or more. Sometimes, protecting a good job is also protecting the marriage.

—Chinedu

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