He had a daughter with someone else when he was in school. He told me, “It’s a boyhood mistake. I thought I was on top of the world and nothing could bring me down. It was that pregnancy that nearly ended my education.” Looking at how young he was when he had the child, I believed him. We all make mistakes. Our mistakes are many while young so I couldn’t hold it against him. I accepted his proposal and dated him for two years before we finally got married. His daughter was living with his parents. When the child was four years old, her mother brought her to him so she could also continue with her life. It’s his parents who took the daughter in and took care of her while he moved around living life.

Our marriage was one year old when he told me he wanted to bring his daughter to come and live with us. I didn’t hesitate. I told him, “Bring her in. I don’t have any problem at all.”  We didn’t discuss the issue again but in the back of my mind, I knew the girl could come in at any time so I prepared my mind and my heart to receive her.

Along the line, I got pregnant and delivered a baby boy. Just around that time, he brought his daughter in. She was quite respectful and very shy. She didn’t talk a lot. She was always looking around for something to do. I loved her. I always did my best to get her closer to me. I bought her some gifts. I bought her new clothes. I was teaching her how to keep herself as a lady and was always in the kitchen with her. My husband loved the chemistry between us and even called us twins. I said, “We can’t be twins. She’s my daughter—my first child.

Then things started going missing in the house. I had a phone I wasn’t using. It was a brand-new phone a friend gave me on my birthday. I had a good phone so I placed that one aside. The plan was to send it to my mom. When the day came for me to visit my mom, I looked for the phone everywhere and I couldn’t find it. I asked my husband, “Haven’t you seen the phone I brought from the office the other day?” He responded, “The first time I saw it was the last time I saw it. Haven’t you left it in the office by mistake?” There was no way I could have left it in the office but when I went to work on Monday I looked for it. 

I was like a madwoman roaming free. I went from box to box and office to office. I would ask anyone I would meet, “Haven’t you perchance seen a phone around here?” For a whole week, I looked for the phone. I didn’t find it. At some point, we give up. So slowly, I let it sink into my mind that I’d lost the phone.

Then it came to my money. I will take a fat purse home and by the time I realize the purse had grown lean. Some money had been taken out of it. A purse is something we move around with so when money gets missing from your purse, you hardly can tell where the money got missing. It could be any of the places you went. I started being careful. I will get home and count the money in my purse before I sleep. Often, I will wake up and count the same money until one day I woke up and realized that GHC100 was gone out of my purse. 

My husband was the first suspect. I asked him, “When did you take money from my purse that you didn’t tell me?” He was lost. Me? Why would I leave my purse there and come to your purse? No, I haven’t done that.” My husband has no reason to lie. He wouldn’t even take it in the first place so that brought my attention to the girl. When we were alone I asked her, “Adwoa, have you been taking things from me without asking?” This girl swore heaven and earth that she hadn’t taken anything from me. She even cried. A twelve-year-old girl can be trusted to a certain extent so I apologized to her and asked her never to tell her father about it.

I trapped her one day and I got her. I went to the bathroom to bathe. Our room was opened. I turned the shower on and looked through the small space I left when I was closing the door. I saw her hurriedly going into our room. When she entered, I came out. I waited for her outside until she came out. She saw me and got shocked. I asked, “What did you go there to do?” She was looking at me. I went closer, looked into her hand, and saw a GH50 note. I asked, “So you’re the one stealing from me right?” She burst out in tears as if I’d beaten her. I said, “I will tell your father when he comes.”

My husband came and I complained to him. He acted aloof. I said, “Did you hear what I just told you? Adwoa had been stealing from me and I caught her red-handed today.” He retorted, “So what do you want me to do to her? Kill her because she took GHC50 from your purse? My parents never mentioned that she had been stealing so why would she steal from you? Only God knows how you’re treating her in my absence. The reason she’ll take money from your purse.” I was shocked! “Is that all you can say? You live with us. Have you ever seen me maltreating her or anything? I give her all the love. She’s my daughter so why would I starve her?” 

He walked past me and went inside. He didn’t ask the girl any questions or tried to reprimand her in any way. I learned my lesson. I started protecting what’s mine. I locked my bag and locked our door whenever I was going to bathe. I started doing a random search in her bag to see if she had been picking things from the outside. Sometimes I will see portions of baby food in her bag. She had taken some of my baby’s food to school. It’s just food so I didn’t complain. One day I saw a phone in her bag. She said it was for a friend. The following day the phone wasn’t there. 

One morning my husband came to ask me, “Have you taken money from my purse?” I answered, “Why would I leave my purse there and take it from yours? No, I haven’t.” I was laughing in my head. I thought he would ask his daughter about it but he didn’t. Days later, it happened again and he came to ask me. I told him, “Stop asking me about your missing money. We both know there’s an elephant in the room but since you’ve refused to address it, I will also keep quiet on it. I won’t take your money. I will ask if I need money from you. It has always been like that and it won’t change.”

He said I’d suggested that her daughter was a thief so he got angry. He started throwing words around carelessly, calling me names I didn’t deserve to be called. He said, “It’s obvious you’re the one stealing my money just to make my daughter appear bad.” That really hurts me to the core so I spoke harshly to him too. His only defense had always been the fact that his parents never complained to him about his daughter being a thief. I told him that day, “It won’t hurt if you ask your daughter about it. I’m not saying you should beat her but be a father. Ask her about it. You don’t even talk to her to know about her day. You’re always running from taking a responsibility for this girl. Do you know she has once come home with a phone? Do you know she comes home with a lot of things that don’t belong to her? How would you know?

So his daughter became the reason we fought every day. He was able to garner the support of his parents against me. They said I’m making things up because the girl wasn’t my child. One day the argument got heated and my husband said, “If you think you can’t live with us, you’re free to leave. I’m tired of your nagging. If you think you’re doing all this just to drive her away, then you’ll be the one to leave and not her. She’s my blood. You’re a stranger I brought home.” 

“Wow…wow…wow”

One evening, I strapped my son behind my back and took him for a stroll. He had been crying all night. I wanted him to sleep. The stroll took me a little farther from the house then it occurred to me that I didn’t close my door. I rushed towards the house, got into the compound, and saw her dashing out of my room. My patience snapped. I held her hands and beat her mercilessly. She had become the devil in my marriage. Again, I felt she had been pampered for far too long and it’s the reason she kept doing it. My husband came from town to see her crying. He asked why and I told him everything.  He asked, ”You beat my daughter?” I said, “Yes, I beat her. She’s the one sitting there. Ask her what she was doing in our room while I was out. I gave her a proper beating this time. She has to stop.” He asked again, this time with anger in his voice, “You beat her?” I said, “Yes I did.” 

He threw his hand and I pulled away. He threw the next hand almost immediately and it landed on my cheeks. I still had my son strapped behind me. I screamed out of shock, “You slapped me?” He screamed back, ”You’re lucky you have the child behind you. I would have beaten you mercilessly. Of all the silly things you do around here, do I beat you? How dare you touch my daughter? Did she steal your life’s investment?”

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The next morning, he woke up and saw me packing my things. He said, “Go wherever you’ll go, I don’t care. And when you leave, don’t forget to tell your family to return my drink.” I got home and told my dad just that. Old soldiers don’t tolerate nonsense so my father held my hand and took me to the police station. He said, “Make a report so they go after him. Tell them how he beat you while you were still carrying your son at your back.” I wrote my statement and took the medical form for medical checks. The next day he was arrested. My dad said, “Make sure you don’t pick anyone’s call. They’ll call to beg you. Ask them to call me.”

But my heart couldn’t rest still knowing that he had been arrested. I thought it was going too far so I started begging my father. He said, “Let them deal with him. He’ll learn sense.” He spent a day behind bars until his parents came around and talked for him to get released. I was at the police station when he was released. He couldn’t look at me and I couldn’t look back at him. I knew the marriage was over. 

A week later, we returned the drinks and traditionally called off the marriage. The divorce process was very long and tiring but we went through it successfully. All through the process, he was still angry. Angry that I’ve spoilt his records. “I’ve been in cells because of you. God will punish you.” I didn’t have the energy to respond to him. He said, “We’ll see who will take care of that boy behind you. You’ll arrest me and still think I will provide for you?” I still didn’t care. 

We’ve been divorced for over four years now. He doesn’t take care of the child, which is less of my problem. I got married again a year ago. My husband takes care of the child as his own. Nothing is missing so I don’t bother my ex-husband. He went back to the mother of his daughter while we were going through the divorce. They lived for only a year and got separated again. What happened? I don’t know. I’m here minding my business. 

I’m sharing this story because at some point I would like to change my son’s name. I would want him to bear the name of my husband because he’s doing everything for him now. A story of this nature was shared here a few weeks ago and the comments were diverse. Looking at my situation, I want to know if it’s the right thing to do since my son’s father hadn’t been interested in him after the divorce.  

–Lady Pat

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