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Growing up, there was this portrait of my mom and dad hanging on our wall. Mom was seated on a chair and dad was standing behind my mom, leaning against the chair that my mom was sitting on. That was just a picture but that was also how they lived their married life; Dad was the supporting force behind my mom.

I grew up believing I should be the supporting force behind my wife too because my mom prevailed in almost everything she laid her hands on. She only had to touch it and my dad would lean in, support her until they both win.

They say “marry your best friend” so I married Cindy. Cindy was the kind of girl who didn’t mind being in the gutters with me. She didn’t have rules for what a woman should and shouldn’t do. She’ll usually ask me, “Do you think it’s a great idea?” The next thing you’ll know, she would be out there kicking ass to achieve what she wanted to achieve.

Before we got married, we knew how many kids we wanted. She said four and I said two. She would then jokingly say; “When you’re done giving me your two, you can retire. Then I’ll be on top every night till I get the rest.”

We planned to start a business together, grow it during our youth so we can live a stress-free life as we age. We had everything figured out before we set out to marry.

I don’t remember a lot of things that happened during our wedding. I was only in a hurry to begin life with this wonderful woman God had placed in my life. I remember when she was making her entrance to the church, her hand clutched in the hand of her father. I had always seen her as a woman and a friend. I did not give myself the opportunity to see how beautiful she was. That day, I saw how gorgeous she looked and I blessed my stars. I took her hand from her father and then she tickled my palm. We both smiled as we walked to the altar.

Her aim from the very start was to get the children out of the way. We had our first child, a boy, a year after marriage. A year and a half after that, a girl came. I’ve had my two so we took a break. Three years later, another girl and another girl a year after. That was it. We were done. And just when we thought all was over, a boy sneaked in. Five kids! Three girls and two boys.

Things changed…

Raising five kids like ours wasn’t something easy to do. We both woke up the same time, get them ready and I’ll send them to school and also bring them back home after school. That meant, I had to leave the office early. Something my boss never liked but I had no option. It got to a time I was the only one waking up at dawn, bath these kids, prepare their food and also send them to school. She would be sleeping until it’s late. She would then wake up, get ready and leave for work.

The first time I spoke about it to her she told me, “What a woman can do, a man can also do it.” She was right. I wasn’t complaining. I was only telling her not to leave all the chores on me. We were to support each other.

We used to cook together on weekends so we could have food in the fridge for the rest of the week. She stopped coming to the kitchen. That didn’t bother me because those five kids have to eat. She doesn’t enjoy my cooking that much so she comes home either full or buys food on her way home. I could have done the same but then, who will feed these kids?

When the kids run to her and ask for food, she would tell them, “Go to your dad.” When they ask her to help with the homework, she tells them, “Wait for dad, he will help when he comes.” When the utility bills come, she packs them together and places them on top of my computer where I can see it. Everything is about me.

Some months ago we had a talk. I told her, “I understand if you don’t want to do anything in this house but please the kids. Try with them. Help them get ready for school. Help with their homework, play with them. They are not my kids. They are OUR kids.” She retorted, “Are the kids complaining to you? Why are you crying more than the bereaved? if you think they are more than you can handle, get help.”

Weeks later, I brought in a house help. Two days later, she sacked the house help. She didn’t tell me anything. I came from a funeral one weekend and the kids were sleeping all over the floor while she was on her phone. None of them had taken their bath. I asked, “Where is the house help?”

“I sacked her this afternoon. She’s too lazy.”

“Why are the kids sleeping on the floor, have you sprayed their room?

“No, I thought they would wait till you come so you bathe them. You are late.”

That night I lost my cool. I screamed. I threw tantrums. I nearly hit her. “How dare you treat our kids like that? What happened to you? What happened to the woman I married?” I was very angry. So angry I had to leave the house to clear my mind. She wasn’t there when I returned. The kids, still lying about on the carpet.

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I didn’t bother about her whereabout when I returned. I just picked the kids up, tucked them in and went to sleep. She didn’t come back that night or the night after. I didn’t call. I went about life as though nothing was missing. She came home three days later. No question was asked and no answer was given. This wasn’t the kind of woman I bargained for. Not that I wanted her to be like my mom. I just want her to be a woman who understands what support means.

We had good dreams and plans before we got here but now I’m scared to even dream again. Cindy is no longer the doer—that girl who went out to make great things happen. I’m at a point where I only watch her come home at the time she likes and leave when she pleases. My colleague at work asked me, “Don’t you think she’s seeing someone else?” I answered, “If she is then I feel sorry for that man she’s seeing. He might think he’d found a woman. He’s believing in a lie and that’s what I’m sorry about.”

My three girls are growing up and they need a woman in their lives. Someone who can teach them what it means to be a woman and what it means to conquer in a world where women are hardly given a chance. My boys have me. I’m their dad and I can teach them how to be men but the girls…I can’t even if I try. On weekends, I leave them with their grandma and bring the boys home but my wife never asks why.

Some days ago, she walked naked in front of me. Her body still looks perfect. She still is beautiful. You wouldn’t know she’s a mother of five if you were not told but it didn’t feel like how it used to be. She didn’t look like she was mine. That was when I realized the two of us have not been intimate for a long time. Yes,  there are options. There are other women but I still have my ring on. Though our marriage looks like a failure, we are still bound by our vows. So I’ll wait till all this is over.     

—Ken, Ghana

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