My friend, Kobby has a cut right above his right eye. A few inches lower and he could have easily lost his sight. Thankfully, he was lucky that day. If not, his story would have been completely different.

Did Kobby get into a fight? No. He was not attacked by armed robbers or jumped by strangers in the street. It was a girl who gave him that cut. The same girl he loves and keeps defending. And somehow, that is what makes the whole thing even more infuriating.

Kobby is my brother. Not by blood, but by everything else that counts. We have known each other since school. Kindergarten. We were the two boys who did not cry on the first day. Primary school, we were in the same class for four out of six years. JHS, we sat next to each other until the teachers figured out that was a bad idea and separated us.

 

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Distance did not come between us. Life happened to every one of us and did not tear us apart. But what the power of women cannot do does not exist.

Kobby started dating Esi around the time we finished our National Service. She is beautiful, I will give her that. She cooks well. She sings, and the angels in heaven bow in awe to her voice. She took up most of the time he used to spend with me. Every now and then it was “my girlfriend this, my girlfriend that.”

We spent fewer days talking about the moves we had to make to build something for ourselves.
But I understood. It is a brotherhood code thing.

When he was making his move towards her, he let me know. When she agreed to date him, I was in on it. I even teased him for finally escaping the single jungle.

But his girlfriend has terrible anger. When she is angry, she destroys anything close to her. She throws punches. She screams. Once, she slapped Kobby so hard across the face that he fell flat to the ground because he had saved a girl’s name as “fine girl” in his phone.

Another time, it was his iPhone shattered on the floor for a reason I still cannot comprehend.

Some weeks ago, Kobby showed up at my door. His head was bowed and blood was running down his face onto the floor, all over my tiles. When I lifted his head, there was a deep cut just above his right eye.

He told me Maame Esi had found an old chat between him and his ex. In the middle of the argument, something struck him. Whether it was her fist or an object she threw, he could not even tell.

I rushed him to the hospital. On our way home, I called her. I told her that if I ever saw her around Kobby again, I would be forced to do the unthinkable. She did not say a single word.

My problem is this. I went over to Kobby’s place to take him back to the hospital for a check-up. Before I even reached the door, I could hear loud music and laughter coming from inside the room. I knocked countless times before the door opened. It was Esi who opened it. She looked me dead in the face and said, “He is not around. When he’s back, I’ll tell him you came.”

Later that evening, a mutual friend called me. She said Maame Esi had reached out to her and complained that I was trying to convince Kobby to leave her. But she said I could not try it, because they love each other.

Some battles, you learn, are not yours to fight.

We talk a lot about abusive boyfriends. There are hotlines, support groups, awareness campaigns, people who will show up for you. But what about abusive girlfriends? What about the men who are being broken down behind closed doors, too ashamed to say it out loud because the world has decided that a man cannot be a victim?

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What can we do to save our male friends from the women who are hurting them? Nobody prepares you for the moment your brother shows up at your door bleeding and the person who put him there is his girlfriend. I told Kobby I would no longer come between him and Maame Esi. But while I wait for him to come to his senses, what else can I do? What can any of us do?

 

—Yaw

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