I have been married for eight years without a child. Sometimes I wonder if this is the consequence of all my secret deeds when I was too young to know better. Let me take you to the beginning of my story. Maybe when I am done, you can help me figure out what to do next.

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I grew up in a very religious yet polygamous home. My mother was as devoted to her Christian faith as my father was devoted to his other wife. He lived with her and their children. This made them his priority while we always got the short end of the stick. We hardly saw him when we were growing up. It was my mother who mostly raised us. Her strict Christian beliefs made her quite uptight.

As kids, our lives revolved around the Bible, prayers, and church. Anything other than that was considered a waste of time. In our adolescent years, we didn’t receive the sex talk. In fact, any conversations surrounding the subject were considered taboo.

I remember one painful incident when I asked my mother if my brother and I could get our own room (since we all stayed in a single room with her). I felt we were growing up and needed our privacy. She jumped to the conclusion that I wanted our own room because I saw her and my father doing it. Before I could defend myself, she called me a bad child and gave me 24 lashes. That was the kind of strictness I grew up with.

Because both my parents were teachers, I completed JSS at just 13 years old and entered secondary school. With no guidance, I fell into the wrong company. Friends introduced me to fornication. Going to PENSA on Sundays became difficult because I felt I needed to enjoy my freedom, now that I was outside my strict home.

In SHS 2, I got pregnant. I was scared of what my parents would do to me so I let my friends help me terminate it. That is my greatest regret to this day. Not that I wanted to have a baby in school, but that single act established a pattern.

Men who were interested in me were scared of my parents so I had secret relationships with them. Out of these relationships came more pregnancies, none of which I carried to full term. I was always too scared of what my parents would do to me if they found out.

After high school, I started pupil-teaching. One day in class, I suffered a spiritual attack and had to go through both hospital treatment and prayers. By God’s grace, I recovered. That sickness drew me back to Christ. From then on, I rejected a lot of relationships because I wanted a godly man who would help me grow closer to God.

That was when my Fiifi, a mate from my diploma days re-entered my life.

We first connected in 2015 through a friend, lost touch, and then reconnected in 2016. Right from the onset, there were red flags. He often asked me for money, and sometimes his behaviour suggested he was talking to other women. I saw all of it but I kept telling myself he is a godly man so I will hold on to him.

Despite my own financial struggles, I borrowed money from friends and even took loans to support him anytime he was in need. When marriage came up, he said he couldn’t contribute because of a car loan. I covered almost everything — the traditional marriage, court registration, and white wedding.

He was the one who fixed the wedding date so imagine my shock when he called just before the wedding, and told me he would like to cancel. I cried and begged him not to do that. I felt I had already invested too much into him to let him go. Another thing I regret to this day is.

On the day of the wedding, his family didn’t have transport fare so he had to go all the way to his village to pick them up. Even after the wedding ceremony, I had to give them money for their return fare.

When all was said and done, he didn’t follow me to thank my family or my church. He had only paid half of my dowry, and delayed payment of the rest. I kept asking him for the money till he sent it to my family in anger. I saw all this but I still believed my marriage would work.

It turned out that was just a preview of the main show. The real suffering began when we settled into the marriage. Chop money was nonexistent. We didn’t live together but he never took initiative to see me. I was the one who was always visiting him every weekend.

At a point, I wondered if I was his fellow man or his wife. He insulted me at the least provocation.

“Evil woman.”

“Prostitute.”

“Demonic creature.”

These are some of the names he has called me over the years I have been his wife. There hasn’t been peace and joy. All I have faced is constant stress. He blames me for everything. Even when he failed his ministerial interview, he said it was my fault. I got sick and was diagnosed with fibroids. He blamed me for that too.

I had surgery, but when test results showed that I have difficulty conceiving, he took a transfer from our town to Tema and abandoned me. This was in 2022.

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He packed all his belongings out of my room and refused to talk to me. According to him, I committed adultery and secretly acquired properties — all lies. He never provided chop money, paid rent, or supported my medical bills. I was doing it all alone so how would I manage to save money to acquire any assets?

Last year in November I visited him, but he sent me packing. I returned broken and depressed from his maltreatment. I was preparing for my final paper, but I couldn’t concentrate.

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Around that time, I met a man who picked me up in his car. This new man has been a source of comfort to me in my pain. Sadly, the unthinkable happened: we got intimate a month ago. I feel broken and torn apart because I never wanted this to happen.

Now, I am at a crossroads. My marriage is dead, but what I did was wrong. I don’t know what step to take next.

— Koowaa

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