I was working with a ticketing company when I first met her. Our company was handling her ticketing and flight arrangements. Her family was the biggest customer of the company. They traveled almost every month. And flew Internally almost every day. The owner of the company gave birth and went on maternity leave. I was left to oversee the daily running of the company and it was through that I got to talk to her often. At first, she said she liked my voice and the way I talked to her on the phone. Later, she said she loved the speed at which I handled her work. And then it came to how I was always available to her needs no matter how late she called. By the time I realized, we were talking about things that had nothing to do with business. 

She asked for a date and I obliged. I felt lost that day when we went out but I had to play along so I don’t embarrass myself. The menu was so large I didn’t know what to choose. The drinks didn’t have normal names. You know Fanta and you know Coke. You even know all the beers by name but you look on the menu and you don’t find any of the names you’re accustomed to. You know Jollof and you know Waakye but the food on the menu had Christian names and surnames. Some are even full sentences. She asked me, “What are you eating?” I answered, “Anything nice.”

‘Anything nice’ came and it wasn’t nice. I learned that day that ‘nice’ has a different meaning when you’re dealing with the rich. The drink tasted some way. The food looked so small I was wondering if it was meant for a child. But then I wasn’t there because of the food. I was there because of the lady. I was grateful so I set my heart on enjoying the night. She listened to me while I talked about myself. She nodded as she chewed gently and carefully as if she would break a tooth if she chewed like the way normal people do. She would ask a question, I will start to answer and she would pick something with the fork and place it gently in her mouth. She listened. I looked at her. That night she gave me the green light.

A light that showed that if I propose to her she would say yes. But I took my time. She liked me but was she someone I also liked? Yes, I did. She spoke softly and picked her words carefully. She didn’t look down on me as someone who didn’t measure up. I had the education. I had a job I was doing. I could do better but it was a job anyway. And I loved how she listened to me whenever we were together. She put the spotlight on me, sat behind, and watched me own the floor. She made me feel important and those were the qualities that made me decide she was the one. 

I proposed on the phone. She said she didn’t like it. “It doesn’t sound real. Proposal shouldn’t be done in an abstract way. Meet me in person and say it to my face. Let’s see if the sparks would fly. The butterfly in the stomach kind of experience. Don’t do that. Be a man and do what men do.” We arranged a meeting and while she sat across from me at the table, I looked deep into her eyes and proposed. She said yes.

Three months later, she was pregnant. 

She called in the morning; “I just had a test. I’m pregnant.”

She said it so casually. Like it didn’t matter that she was pregnant. Like the way you’ll walk to the market and say, “I’m buying a tin of tomatoes.” You say it casually because buying a tin of tomato paste isn’t something you should say with worries in your voice. I didn’t know how to react. Happy? Surprised? Shocked? I asked myself, “How does the rich react when they hear such news?” I said, “Wow, that was too quick.” Too quick because we did it only twice. She didn’t have too much time to spend but when she got the time, she spent every second with me. She said, “I don’t know why I was that careless. I’m very sorry if I failed you.” I objected; ”NO you were not careless. If anything, I was the one who should have ensured your safety. Forgive me but what is the next option? What are we going to do?”

She was ready to have it but she wouldn’t have it before marriage. “I’m a woman. I’m 30 years old so getting pregnant shouldn’t be a thing of worry. Getting pregnant outside of marriage is my worry now. I don’t know what your plans are and how marriage fits into your plans but if you are ready to marry then let’s fix something quickly before it begins to show.” Three days later, I was in her house with my parents. My father looked at the walls of her house and said, “You really went too far. You don’t want your level?” My mother retorted, “I pray she’s a good woman and comes from a good home because these rich people can be a pain in the ass.”

Her parents were receptive and accepted the idea of marriage. They didn’t ask crazy questions and didn’t ask what I did for a living or asked if I could take care of their child. The father said, “That’s a good idea. Marriage isn’t something you pee on when it comes your way. We are all for it.” The pregnancy was three months old when we got married. We agreed on a small wedding but our wedding wasn’t something I would call small. The caliber of people who came and the kind of cars I saw that day aren’t things you see at a small wedding. But that wasn’t important to me. A beautiful wedding should translate to a beautiful marriage. That was my only concern and it was the only thing I was looking forward to.

I moved in with her. It should have been the other way round but in my situation, I had to move in with her. She had a big house. I couldn’t afford to rent a big house for us so I moved in with her. Two months later, she left the house to me and went to live with her parents. We didn’t discuss it. She went to her parents’ house one day and decided she wouldn’t come back. I asked why and she said, “It’s comfortable here. The space here is bigger and I could use such space.” If I needed to see her, I had to go to her parents’ house. I was never comfortable there. No one speaks to me. The father sees me and walks away. Her mother treats me like a falling leaf, something that deserves no attention and my wife didn’t care that her parents treats me that way. 

When she gave birth, I pleaded with her to come home with the baby. I didn’t want to move up and down every day before seeing my own baby. She asked me, “Do you know how to take care of a baby” I answered, “My mother can come here and live with us. She had managed five children so she has the experience to do this one too.” Her answer was, “I couldn’t live in that house because it was so small for the two of us and you want to bring your mother to live with us? That would not work. I am here. Come around when you want to see us.” Our child is almost a year old but my parents haven’t been able to see the child. They gave the child a name without any consultation with me. I called one day and the child was being called a name. A name I didn’t give. 

I’m married but I live alone. Sometimes I need permission before I go and visit my own wife. I have a good job I’m doing now. I should be in the position to cater for a family but I’ve lost that opportunity to be a man because the woman I married wouldn’t give me the chance to have a family that I cater for. I called her one late evening and poured my heart out to her. I didn’t say things angrily but the passion in my voice should have been enough for her to know that I’m hurting. “You’ve been away for over a year. You were five months pregnant when you left. How old is our baby now? Why don’t you come home? Have I treated you badly or ever say something bad to you? You’re making your parents feel that I’m not a good husband that’s why you can’t live with me. I don’t like the picture you’re creating. Please come home. This house is yours and it’s big enough for us.”

I waited for her to say something. Something like, “I’ve heard you. I will come home tomorrow.” Or “Come for me over the weekend.” She didn’t say any of that. All she said was, “I will come when I feel like coming. Are you not happy that you have a whole house to yourself? Our son is being well taken care of here. I have to come there and take care of you? is that what you want? Just go straight to the point. That you want someone to cook for you and clean after you. Well, don’t worry. I will come soon. When I’m ready”

She goes to work every day. She goes to various functions and posts photos and videos of herself and her friends having fun. Every weekend is a fun day for her. I’ve seen her with other men too. ”They are people in the business circle.” That’s her answer and I have no right to interrogate any further. When it comes to her and the way she lives her life, I don’t have a voice in anything. I can’t dictate her life. That’s fine but how about the life of our child? The child the two of us came together to make. 

I went to her father one afternoon. I wasn’t going to complain about her lifestyle. I asked her father to speak to her so she could come home. “I’ve been living alone since she came here. We got married to make a home. To join forces and raise the child we had brought forth. Currently, that’s not the situation. I’ve been denied that right. I’m appealing to you to say something. Something that will make her come home to her family.”

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Her father didn’t say much. He said, “She’s her own woman. I would not like to interfere in the affairs of your marriage but let’s see what I can do. I will try.” That was about two months ago. Nothing had happened. She continues living with her parents while leaving me here to rot. Her parents don’t talk to my parents. The last time they saw each other was the day we got married. They are worlds apart and it’s understandable. It’s the reason why my parents haven’t been able to go there to see their grandkid. 

The last time I spoke to my wife, I asked her a simple question, “Do you want a divorce? Just be honest with me.” 

Her answer was this, “If that’s what you’re thinking of, I have nothing to say. You mentioned divorce. I didn’t. Do as you may please.” The marriage is over right? If her actions weren’t loud enough then her voice was. But I want her to come clean and say it on my face. That I’m fed up and want a divorce. But how could she be fed up when she hadn’t lived with me since marriage? She leaves me confused and disturbed. Her cards are on her chest while I’ve displayed all my cards on the board. I don’t know what else to do to make things right. I only see her life through the stories she shares on her Status. I know about her travels only when she makes a post about them. 

She had been abroad twice with our child. I only got to know about it on her social media handles. Her elder brother got married abroad. She went with our kid. I got to know about it when she posted it. I’ve become a stranger in a life I should have been the leading actor. Nothing is said to me so I sit with the audience and watch the movie play on. I may seek a divorce but it’s also not easy. It wouldn’t make my problem go away. If anything, it would make things worse because I can’t afford the kind of lawyer she can afford. So I’m hanging in here. Praying for a miracle. A miracle that would turn this marriage around and make things right. 

—Wilhelm          

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