Right after national service, I had this job in Accra and had to quickly come to Accra to work. I didn’t have the money to rent a new place, so I called a friend who was kind enough to give me a place to stay for the meantime. I shared the same room with her and used everything together with her. After staying with her for two months, she asked me to help with the rent too.

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Before that, I was splitting every bill with her and also trying to save a little to be able to afford my own place. The rent issue came up because she wanted me to date a man in the neighborhood who had money, and I told her I wouldn’t do such a thing. She said, “You’re here suffering, and I’m giving you a man who can help reduce your suffering, and you say no. Do you know what we do here to survive?”

I was angry that she wanted to dictate my life for me, but I didn’t fight her. I decided to starve and use the money to rent my own place, however small the place. After a few months, I decided to take a loan because it was too hard to raise the amount I needed. I had crossed my probation period, so the office decided to give me a loan.

I took the loan, got this place I’m currently living in, thanked my friend, and left her place. The landlord here has been very good to me since I came. He told me he was married and that his wife had traveled out of the country for school. When I got here first, he helped me to settle, and everything I needed around the house that I didn’t know where to find, he helped with it.

Right after I settled, I could hardly see him or even talk to him. Whenever we met outside my door, we would exchange greetings, and he would ask how I was doing. This happened once in many weeks because we didn’t cross paths often.

One evening, I came from work and met this woman in the house, and I greeted her. She responded with her head and asked what I was looking for. I said in my head, “I should ask you what you’re looking for.” I told her, “I live in this house.” She asked, “Since when? Who gave you a room here that I’m not aware of?”

She walked into the landlord’s room while I also walked into my room, thinking about what made her ask me those questions. The next day, I got to know she was the landlord’s wife who had returned from her trip. I greeted her respectfully and even added, “Welcome.” She asked, “Welcome from where? Did I tell you I was coming from anywhere that you’re welcoming me?”

I was struggling to understand her hostility toward me, but then the voice in my head said, “This too shall pass.” I tried as much as possible to avoid her. Sometimes, I would be in my room and hear her voice from outside. Because of her, I wouldn’t step outside until she left the compound.

One day, we crossed paths in the compound, and I greeted her again. She frowned and didn’t respond to my greeting. While walking away, she said, “Start looking for a new place because I’m coming to work on your room and give it out to a family member.”

I kept walking, and this time she called my name and asked if I heard what she said. I didn’t even think she knew my name. I responded, “Get a new place? As in, I should leave this place?” She got angry and started ranting while I walked away. The following day, the landlord called me, and she was also present. The landlord said, “I’m sorry, but I’ll need you to vacate your room as soon as possible.”

I responded, “Please, landlord, don’t do this to me. How do I get the money to rent a new place? I just started life. It’s very hard for me already. Please don’t add to my suffering.” He said he was going to give me the remainder of my rent to help me get a new place. I told him I couldn’t raise the rest of the money to get a new place, so he should at least let me live there until my rent expired.

His wife started shouting, “Who cares what happens to you and where you live after here? That’s all you girls do—breaking homes and sleeping with people’s husbands in the name of being tenants. I have eyes, and I can see what you can do. Go and sleep on the street; who cares?”

Listening to her got me so angry I wanted to insult her, but I was the girl who needed a place to sleep, so I told her firmly, “I wasn’t raised to break homes. Your husband can testify to my character. I’ve not even had a visitor since I came to live here. You can trust me on that.”

Everything got worse when I mentioned trust. She asked me to leave and start packing as soon as possible. I was looking at the man to say something, but he sat quietly while everything unfolded. When I left, he called me on the phone and said, “For your own peace, just leave. The way she has started, she will continue to make your life unbearable.”

According to the man, his wife believes I’m a temptation to her husband, so the best thing for me was to leave. I was crying on the phone, telling him that even the loan I took to rent the place, I haven’t finished paying it. All he said was, “Hmmm, let’s see what happens.”

I haven’t known peace in this house since that day. This woman has come to knock on my door three times to ask me when I’m leaving. The third time, we nearly had a physical fight. She called me a witch and a whore. I asked her to respect herself enough to leave me alone. “I should leave you alone in my own house? Do you know how this house came to be?”

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Someone told me to take her to rent control, but my fear is what will happen after that. This woman isn’t going to rest until I leave this place, from the way everything is going. Apart from rent control, is there anything I can do to bring calm into this house? To assure her that her marriage is safe and that I wouldn’t interfere in any way?

Currently, the man isn’t forcing me to leave. He’s not even saying anything. It’s only the wife trying hard to push me out.

Where do I go from here?

—Christy

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