When I completed SHS and needed money to attend university, my dad told me to go and learn how to sew or find any apprenticeship job around because he didn’t have the money to pay for a degree. I was hurt, just like I was hurt anytime I came home for school fees during SHS and he told me to go to my mom for it. I’m smart. I was topping my class, but my dad didn’t find it worthy to spend money on me. Instead, he was taking care of his nephews and nieces.

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My mom and her siblings pulled resources together and sent me to university. In my fourth year, my dad called me to come home for a serious discussion. His friend’s son abroad wanted to marry me, so he was telling me to prepare. I asked, “Is that the serious discussion, or is there more coming after this?”

He made it sound like I didn’t have a choice. He was my dad and he knew what was best for me, so I should accept. I went back to school and told him not to discuss such issues with me again. My mom called to tell me he’d been receiving money from his friend and the son, telling them I’d agreed to marry the guy.

All of a sudden, my dad started sending me money out of the blue. He would send me GHC500 and say, “This is from your husband. He says you should buy books.” The highest amount he sent was GHC1,000, telling me it was for my hostel fees and it was coming from my husband abroad. The guy abroad called only once, asking how I was doing and telling me he would come to marry me as if it was a given.

After my graduation, when I was going up and down looking for a better place to do my service, my dad announced that the guy was coming so I should prepare to meet him. I told him I wasn’t ready to meet any man. He screamed, “Then get ready to vomit every penny he has spent on you!” I retorted, “Has he ever sent any money my way? Every money you gave me was money from a father to his daughter. I don’t know any man.”

Before the guy arrived, my dad invited me to go and see the guy’s father with him. It took my mother’s plea for me to agree to go. On the way, he told me, “If you dare go and misbehave over there, it’s over for you. This is our chance to leave this slum we call life.”

The man was nice, hugging me and calling me “beautiful tree” and all that. He asked about school, the course I did, and if I was ready to give him five grandchildren.

After all the pleasantries, I asked if I could talk. I looked into the man’s eyes and said, “I’m pregnant by a man my dad doesn’t like. He said I should say yes to your son so I can pin the pregnancy on him. I like your son, and I think he deserves to know the truth.”

My dad slapped my back and screamed, “What silly accusation is that? She’s lying; I don’t know anything about what she’s saying.”

I started crying. He pulled me off my seat and pushed me out of the room. “You’re such an embarrassment to my name. God will punish you for this embarrassment.”

It became a huge problem between him and his friend, where his friend accused him of manipulation and cut him off in the end. My mom said I went too far, so I asked her, “Between me and your husband, who went too far?”

My dad doesn’t talk to me, and I don’t even care. My elder brother sided with me and also doesn’t speak to my dad. I’m doing my best not to return to that village again or have my children experience such a village upbringing. That’s the most important thing to me now when I wake up and go to work. My dad can tickle himself and laugh for all I care.

—Abrefi

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