To the rest of the world, my father is a generous man. He is the one everyone turns to when they are in need. He gives out help as though he has no lack. This is who he has always been. Even when we were kids, he would pay people’s children’s school fees. The moment a neighbour cries “Help!” My daddy would jump to the rescue.

While he was busy being the saviour of the world, our house was on fire. My siblings and I got into trouble in school for not paying our school fees. My dad wouldn’t pay it because he preferred being a philanthropist and having men sing his praises to being a father. My mother couldn’t provide for us financially because she was not allowed to work. He wouldn’t even allow her to engage in petty trading.

He says, “What will people think if they see my wife working for money? They will say I am an irresponsible man who cannot take care of his wife.” As for us his children, he sent us out to sell for him. If we went out and we didn’t make enough sales, he would beat us mercilessly that day. While the world attributed him to traits like kind, gentle, and generous. We saw him as a cruel man with no fatherly affection who was always one bad mood away from beating us within an inch of our lives. We quaked in fear at the mere sight of him.

When my sister completed high school, he did not allow her to further her education. He told her to bring a man home so he would give her out for marriage. That way she would become her husband’s responsibility. My sister didn’t bring any man home but this man stood by his resolve. My sister had to try and find a job with her high school certificate. It’s not easy to get a good job in Burkina Faso for people who have even gone to university. So for someone who doesn’t have higher education, it is almost a hopeless case.

When it got to my turn I didn’t want to suffer my sister’s fate. So I told my father, “I want to go and stay with my mother’s family in Ghana so I can attend high school there.” I was just looking for an opportunity to escape my father’s abuse, and also study English so I could have better opportunities when I start looking for a job. He also saw a chance to pass me to another family so I would become their responsibility. So he eagerly agreed to send me to Ghana for school.

While I was in Ghana he barely sent me money but he supported my education through the family I was living with. However, when I got to the end of my second year he called to tell me, “Come back home and finish the school here. I can no longer fund your education in another country.” I thought he would change his mind but he maintained his position. I had no choice but to pack up my stuff and return home.

After I completed high school he told me, “You know the rule in this family. I cannot pay for you to attend the university. But if you want a husband, I can arrange one for you. A good husband will sponsor the rest of your education. If you don’t want an arranged marriage too, you can bring your own man home.” I didn’t have any man to bring home. Neither did I want my father to arrange a husband for me. I wanted to break out of the toxic cycle I was raised in.

I wanted to find true love, and also to make something out of my life so I could be financially independent. So I decided I would return to Ghana in search of a job. When I discussed my plans with my dad, he didn’t object to it. He even took me to the bus station when I was ready to leave. It was as if he wanted the burden of taking care of me off his hands.

When I got to Ghana, he completely washed his hands off me. I became the responsibility of one of my uncles while I searched for a job. Soon enough, my uncle wanted to reap the benefits of his investment. Because he was taking care of my needs, he demanded shuperu in return. I felt grossed out that my own uncle would ask this of me. He, on the other hand, didn’t see anything wrong with what he wanted. As days passed, he put a lot of pressure on me.

I wasn’t ready to give my body to him so I left home and rented a kiosk to live in. Shortly after that, I got a job that offered to pay me GHC300. It was better than nothing so I took it. I would pay rent GHC50 at the end of the month. Whatever I had left, barely saw me through the month.

At that point, I met a man who professed his undying love for me. He showed this love through his generous gifts and money. I was touched. I don’t know how it happened but I also fell in love with him. I believed that he would marry me and we would live our lives happily ever after.

Unfortunately, I came to learn the hard way that just because a man is kind to you, doesn’t mean he loves you. All I wanted was the love and affection I didn’t get from my father, but I ended up with a broken heart. This guy left me as soon as I gave myself to him. That was the beginning of a good girl turning bad.

I met a lot of men after that. Most of them promised me love, only to run away the moment they got a taste of my cookie. Some of them too, I only gave myself to them so I could survive. I didn’t realize the kind of life I was living until I turned twenty-six. By then I had had three abortions. It dawned on me then, that although I didn’t go to the streets to sell my body for money, I was living the same life as the girls who did.

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I decided I would turn my life around for the better. Just then, I received news that my sister had lost her mind and was running around on the streets. My mother was beside herself with grief. So I returned home to keep my mother company. This time around, I got a job. The money wasn’t much but it sustained me.

Unfortunately, I made a friend at the workplace whom I trusted with every detail of the life I lived in Ghana. I learned too late that this person is a basket mouth. Because of her, people started mocking me at my workplace. I didn’t know exactly what they were saying but I knew they were talking about me. I would enter a space and everyone there would start laughing. Things became so uncomfortable for me that I quit my job.

To open your mouth to say I love you, Is kind of weird

Now, I don’t know what to do with my life. It has been suggested to me that a man in our village is looking for a second wife. I am in a place where I am feeling very hopeless. So I am considering travelling to the village to marry this man I don’t know anything about. I am hoping being someone’s wife will prevent me from living the life I once lived. It will also provide me with some financial security. And if I am lucky, I will find the love and affection I have been hungry for all my life.

However, I have made a lot of mistakes already. I don’t want to make another one by getting married. That’s why I am sharing my story with you. Is it a good idea to go through the marriage? Or is this another life-altering mistake I am about to make? Please, I need all the advice I can get.

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—Rahinatou

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