I met Obeng when I was in JHS 3. I was fourteen while he was twenty-four and in tertiary school. I was so naïve that I believed what I felt for him was love. Because of my strong feelings for him, I was willing to do anything for us to be together. Luckily for me, we lived in the same house. This made it easier to sneak into his room whenever I wanted to spend time with him. Our relationship flourished quietly until I completed school.

Right after I completed JHS, my mum moved us to a different town. The distance between that town and our old town was a seven-hour drive. For a girl my age, that was an endless journey. How would I be able to see my boyfriend? I felt like my life was falling apart. I wish I could do something to change the situation but I couldn’t. So I nursed my bruised heart and went to SHS when the time came for me to go.

While I was in school, Obeng came to visit me. I was over the moon. Again, I was willing to do anything to make him happy. So when he asked that I leave school with him to go to a nearby motel, I did. I gave him everything else he asked for. He explored sacred places in my body that a man his age shouldn’t dare touch. It felt good and I enjoyed every bit of it. When it was all over, we were both satisfied.

A month after our encounter, I missed my period. As naïve as I was, I thought it was normal so I wasn’t alarmed. My grandmother asked me “It looks like you haven’t had your menses this month. What’s wrong.” “Nana, I have already started having cramps. I am sure it will start soon,” I lied. The next day I went to buy sanitary pads and pretended I was using them. That was when I realised I was in trouble.

I called Obeng and told him, “Obeng, I think I may be pregnant.” He sighed heavily and responded, “In my family, we don’t get rid of pregnancies. So if it happens that you are pregnant, you will have to keep the baby.” I was terrified, “I am fifteen and in SHS 1, how do you expect me to have a baby? It will ruin my life.” He told me that it was the consequences of our actions so we had to deal with it.

I was too scared to tell my grandma what was going on. I also didn’t have any friend to confide in. So I kept everything to myself and moved on with my life until my mother found out about it. She was beyond heartbroken. She was also very angry. When she got a grip on her emotions she said, “It’s not too late. We can quickly fix it and you will go back to your life.” We set a date to go and get the procedure done but I secretly called Obeng and told him about it. This guy told me that I would die if I went ahead with my mother’s plan. He assured me that he would support me to take care of the baby.

Once again, my naivety came into play and I trusted Obeng over my mother. My mother did her best to convince me to do what was necessary but I refused. So she made life hell for me. When I could no longer stomach her maltreatment, I packed my bags and moved in with Obeng. I stayed with him till my eighth month. It was then my mum started calling me. She wanted me to come home. I didn’t want to go but she was relentless. When I got to her place, she took me to a private hospital with good facilities and a reputation for excellent maternal healthcare.

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When my time was due, the doctor said I was too young for vaginal birth so I had to undergo C.S. I called Obeng and asked him for money but he told me he didn’t have that kind of money. He said his family has a doctor in one of the hospitals near us so we can book an appointment with her. That didn’t sit well with my mum. So she started attacking Obeng, which caused him to start withdrawing from me. Later, my mum paid for the procedure and the delivery was successful.

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After the baby arrived, Obeng sent money for my upkeep but he didn’t visit us. The money he sent also lasted for a week. I called to ask him for more money and he got angry. “How could you use up all that money in such a short while? Do you know how much I suffered to get what I sent?” He blocked me after that phone call. I cried. I felt disappointed that he would do that after all his assurances. I have not seen nor heard from him till now. It’s been ten years and I’m single-handedly taking care of my child.

Thanks to my mum, my grandmother and my aunty who pitch in to help whenever things get extremely difficult. Last year on father’s day my son asked, “Mama, do I have a father?” I pretended I didn’t hear him. I know I will surely have to answer that question one day. When that time comes I plan to tell him that his father is dead. He may find out the truth later but until then, I feed him my lies.

–AJ

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