I come from a polygamous home. My dad and mum met when he was still single, so I am the firstborn between them but the fourth among my father’s children. For a while, we lived together as a family, until one day I realised it was just me and my dad in the house. Then, I was taken away too. My mother divorced my father when I was only seven years old.

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After that, it was just my mum, my kid sister, and me. And slowly, my mother began to pick between us—favouring my sister more, so the smallest mistake from me would make her rage. It felt as if all the bitterness and anger she held toward my dad was thrown at me. She would beat me to a pulp, insult me, and even curse me with words like, “You’re a woman like me, and you will suffer and see pepper.”

I cried so much in those days. I remember how I would weep until my chest hurt and still go to her for comfort. I was only a child, and she was the only comfort I knew. Strange as it may sound, I got used to it. Who gets used to being beaten that much? Well, I am one of many. I learnt to expect a beating for the smallest thing. When we grew a little older, we were allowed to visit my dad. I would tell him everything, and he would console me. Even though he never paid my school fees or took his responsibilities seriously, I preferred him over my mother. I loved him with every fibre in me.

Then my mother started something new when she realised I had grown tough to her beatings. She began telling her siblings every wrong thing I did, painting me as the problem child, the “Mensah” in the family. Little did she know she was destroying her own image in the process. I remember one of my birthdays. I do not recall exactly what I did wrong, but my birthday presents were thrown on the floor with bitter words and curses, and I was told to pick them up. I cried my heart out and asked if I was truly her child. It was my little sister who comforted me that day. I remember telling her, “One day, I will run away to Accra to do *kaya*, save some money, and then we will run to our father.” We cried and held each other.

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With time, I grew used to the verbal and emotional abuse. I learnt to psych myself up from an early age. Even now as an adult, it has affected me so much that I only open up when I feel completely comfortable. Then, there were the relatives who bad-mouthed and emotionally abused me because my own mother had sold me out to be judged by people whose own children were worse—but they would never expose them like that. Sometimes, when I think about my father’s shortcomings, I feel deep sadness. But what can I do? I calm myself by remembering that no matter what, he is my father, and without him I would not be here.

From a very young age, I never believed stories outright. I always wanted to hear both sides before finding the truth in any matter. My mum remarried, and so did my dad. There were many issues with my stepfather and his children until that marriage also ended silently after my mother had taken care of his kids. My father remarried too, and till today my stepmother is one of my closest confidantes. She is a very good woman by all standards.

My little sister grew up rebellious. She decided the stories my mother told about our father were true, took sides, and began disrespecting everyone. But I chose to stay neutral, minding my own business quietly. No one had to tell me, I was a daddy’s girl. With him, I found peace and encouragement. But unfortunately, my dad is no more, and now I am the saddest because my mother and only sister have teamed up against me. When you talk to my mother and leave, she will discuss everything with my sister, and together they judge and condemn me instead of trying to understand my pain or being my peace.

Marriage Through the Eyes of Millennials and Gen-Z

One thing I can share with parents is this: do not show favouritism among your children. When your relationship ends, do not pour your bitterness onto the innocent. And most importantly, stop discussing your children with everybody, especially family members. If you are going through the same situation, never lose hope. Remember, there are better days ahead, my dear. Virtual hugs to somebody out there. Be encouraged.

—AG

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