Her father advised her not to marry me because of my profession. He didn’t hide it. He said it right in front of me the day she introduced me to him. He said, “A teacher, and then you’ll be promoted to what, a headmaster? Marian, are you sure you can marry a teacher?”

I answered, “There’s more to life, Dad. I won’t be a teacher until I die. Trust me, I will take care of your daughter very well.”

He nodded and said, “I doubt it. I told her not to marry you, but let’s see.”

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He said it without anger or any malice in his voice. My girlfriend apologised on our way back and told me not to take him seriously because he had always been a jovial person.

We dated for one more year and went back to see him about marriage. This time, he turned his attention to his daughter and asked if she was sure I was the right choice. Marian answered, “Dad, he’s the right choice for me.” He didn’t say anything else and agreed to go ahead with our marriage.

Marian didn’t have a great educational background, but what she lacked in education, she made up for in business. She could sell a mirror to a blind man, telling him the mirror would let him see his future. She had a hair salon and also owned a barbering shop. Aside from that, she sold many items she thought would bring her money. I was only a teacher who organised extra classes and vacation classes to earn extra income.

While dating, she didn’t ask me for money. When I gave her money, she took it, and sometimes she was the one to give. She would cook with her own money and invite me over to eat. If we took a taxi or trotro, she paid. Sometimes, I had to beg her to allow me to pay before she would tell me no and go ahead and pay.

I sensed her kindness and commitment to the relationship and made her a promise that I was going to marry her even though she was two years older than me. She was thirty-three when we got married.

Right after marriage, she asked me to move in with her because she had the bigger house. I hesitated at first and later moved in. That was when everything changed. She started complaining about my job. “How much does that bring you at the end of the month? Leave and help me manage my business.”

If I brought people home to teach them, she would sack them and throw away my board. If I went out to teach them, she would accuse me of cheating on her. I told her, “You’ve always known me as a teacher. Why is it a problem now?”

She answered, “Were you not there when my dad said you couldn’t take care of me because of your profession? Leave that job.”

She even changed the way she dressed. We dated for two years, and I never saw her put a chain around her neck, but all of a sudden, my wife started dressing loudly and brightly like a peacock. She pierced two more holes in each ear, cut her hair, and put a chain on her ankle. She did all that without telling me.

I told her, “You’re a teacher’s wife, my dear. Behave like one.”

She retorted, “A wife of who? Please don’t make me angry.”

She asked me to increase the housekeeping money, and I couldn’t. She stopped collecting money from me but went ahead and cooked for the house and even paid the bills I took my time to pay. She did that for several months and said, “You see I don’t take anything from you? I want you to know I can take care of you and still smile. What has being a teacher done for you?”

I lost my keys at school and had to wait for her until she returned before I could enter the room. I asked if there were more spare keys. She told me she wasn’t ready to give me extra keys, so I should either come to the shop for the keys when I closed or hang around until she closed and came back home.

I went to her shop once, and she turned me into an apprentice.

“Bring me the cream there.”

“Turn on the dryer. Don’t leave. Stay until you turn it off.”

“Pick the bundle in the display for me.”

I didn’t go there the next day. I begged her to give me keys, and she said no, so I always had to go and hang around until she returned from the salon, sometimes as late as 10 p.m.

Two years later, and we didn’t have a child. I thought we were waiting for the Lord to give us one. Sometimes, she would come to the table of intimacy without complaint. Other times, I would have to coerce and beg before she would come. All along, I was waiting for God to shine on us, but she was on family planning, telling me, “I’m not going to have a child with a man who hasn’t figured his life out.”

That was the day I decided to leave the marriage. What delayed me was the fact that I didn’t have anywhere to pack my things. I looked for a single room around town until I got one. I still didn’t have a key to the door, so I had to wait and pack while she was home. She didn’t beg me or say anything to show remorse.

I packed out before calling her dad to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to stay married to his daughter. He asked what happened. I was surprised he didn’t know. I narrated the whole story to him: the key incident, the fact that she wasn’t ready to give birth with me, and everything that had changed after marriage.

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He said, “I was speaking to you when I asked my daughter if you were the right choice. Every demeaning statement I made was for you to get angry and back out, but you kept coming. Marian is a man in a woman’s body. She can only marry a submissive husband.”

We’ve been separated for six months, living our lives apart. She says she’ll never give me a divorce even if I take her to court. And it’s not that she wants to return to the marriage oo. She just wants to punish me for leaving, though traditionally, we are not married. It’s just a matter of time before we are legally over.

There’s nothing wrong with being a teacher, and I won’t let a woman tell me that.

—Nkrumah

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