Four years ago, I was in Sika’s situation. The man I was going to marry was busily sharing our business with his ex, the woman he told me cheated on him. Sika had a plan but I didn’t have any plan. I was devastated. It was a month before our wedding. I had a lot of time to decide my future. I spoke to people who have been married for years. I received a delegation from my husband-to-be. They came with an apology. They told me I shouldn’t allow the devil to win. They told me the devil only strikes when good things are about to happen in our lives.

A day after we shared our wedding invitation, I was with him talking about how people were surprised after receiving our wedding invitation. He told me, “I don’t know why they are surprised. What did they think we were doing when they saw us dating?” I answered, “Maybe they are surprised because it has happened too soon than they anticipated.”

We dated for less than a year. I didn’t force him to marry me. I never mentioned marriage while we were dating. Everything was his plan. I only applied myself to his plans because I loved him so much. He was doing his master’s then. I asked him to complete his program before marriage but he jovially responded, “What if by the time I finish, you are already married to someone else? I won’t take such a risk.”

I chuckled. He burst out laughing. Whenever we needed money for anything, he asked me to give him a loan and I did. When it came to the things I needed for the wedding, I bought my own things. When it came to what he needed, he took a loan from me to get them. The only thing he bought with his own money was my ring. I bought his ring. He took a loan from me for almost everything because he told me he had used a chunk of his money on his master’s program. He was paying fees in pounds and pounds were very expensive then.

So a day after sharing our wedding invitation, I was sitting next to him when a message popped up on his phone; “So you’re getting married to that thing?”

I saw the message but I pretended I hadn’t seen it. The number that sent the message wasn’t saved on his phone so you could only see the number. He quickly turned the screen of his phone off and left my side as if he were going to do something. It got me thinking, “Who could that be? What conversation do they have that gives him/her the audacity to refer to me as a thing?”

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Days later, I wondered about the response my husband-to-be gave to the message. That pricked my conscience to start looking for the answers. It took me three days but I finally found out when I spent the night with him. His password is his birthday. He had told me when the love was new but I didn’t bother because, to me, a man’s phone was a no-go area. But that night, I took my time to read what I could read. You know what, that message was the least insulting thing on his phone.

The message came from his ex, the one he told me cheated on him. His response to the message was, “I’m not the one marrying her. It’s my family that’s pushing me because she has money. She’s the one paying for the whole wedding.” The lady responded, “Why are you making such a mistake? Ain’t you a man? Maybe you’re lying because why would you follow family pressure?” His next response was, “Hmmm, it’s not easy ooo. There are a lot I can’t tell you.”

I tried scrolling to the beginning of their chat but it was too long to get to the beginning. I got to the point where he was begging for sex from the lady. From the chat, it wasn’t too long before they had a marathon of shuperu. The lady was talking about it. She said, “You can’t let me go but you can’t also come back. Do you even know what you want?”

Every line was heartbreaking but I kept reading until he suddenly woke up to see his phone in my hand. I wasn’t crying but I was close to tears. He snatched the phone from me and asked what I was doing on his phone. I answered, “I’m watching the movie you acted with the lady you told me was your ex. He looked on the phone and sighed heavily. “I’m the one getting married to you, right? Your family is forcing you, no problem. Tell them to stop forcing you because I’ve stopped.”

“Oh, but you should know I was lying to her. You know everything I said wasn’t true. You don’t have to take it seriously.”

“Why did you say it if it wasn’t true? To get sex from her? To disgrace me in front of someone who shouldn’t hear about my issues? I’m paying for the wedding isn’t a lie, is it?”

The days ahead were hectic. I threatened to call off the wedding. If I had a sister like Sika’s sister who told me to walk away, I would have listened to her. I was only looking for one voice who’d tell me, “Walk away, he’s not worth it.” I never heard that voice. Everyone was on the forgiveness train. My friend, the one going to be my maid of honour told me, “It’s good you’ve caught him at this point. He’ll learn a lesson and be a better man. If you let him go, he’ll be a better man for the next woman. Don’t let him go. Shame him into submission.”

I succumb to the pressure. I listened to my parents. The pastors who came to visit, I respected them so much I listened to them. The only thing I asked him to do was pay all the money he took as loans from me for the wedding and he paid. I don’t know where he got the money but four days after making that request, every pesewa fell into my bank account. We went on to have a beautiful wedding. I faked it through. I masked the confusion with a smile and danced the hurt out of my heart.

A year after marriage, I told myself, “I shouldn’t have listened to the forgiveness brigade. This thing won’t work.”

At that point I was paranoid. I read meaning into his every move. It was suffocating but I couldn’t blame myself for who I’d become. He created the new me and he had to live with it. We argued a lot. He called me insecure. He told me I was becoming the devil in our marriage. He said a lot of stuff I didn’t allow myself to be hurt by them.

Two years later, I was on the phone fighting a girl because my husband was involved with her. The girl had a tiny voice, like a teenager. She said softly, “I’m sorry Ma. I didn’t know he was married. He doesn’t wear a ring so I never knew.”

There was not a single day I hadn’t seen him with his ring on but when he was in town, the ring went into his pocket. I should have known some men don’t change. I shouldn’t have married him when I got the chance to decide. We’ve been married for almost four years. I’ve caught him three times with different women. I saw a condom in his socks. I’ve found a lady’s bracelet in his pocket. He changes his phone’s password every day. He told me, “It won’t hurt if you don’t see it.”

I should have been like Sika. I didn’t have a plan. I believed cheating men change when you catch them but I ended up running with my shadow, I couldn’t outrun it. Reading Sika’s story opened up my mistake to me but it also gave me this calm courage that said, “All is not lost. You can still turn things around.”

I Didn’t Tell Anybody Because I Enjoyed It

We have a two-year-old son. It makes things difficult but not impossible. A woman will someday do what a woman has to do because even in my suffering, all the people I talk to tell me, “Pray for him. Take him to the altar of God. Nothing is impossible for God.” Those who try to be real with me tell me, “Every man cheats. If you leave him and won’t marry again, then that’s fine. Because if you do, you’ll still meet a cheating man.”

I’ve listened to everyone for four good years. It’s time to listen to myself and give myself the respect I’ve always denied myself.

—Portia

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