I had a daughter when I was nineteen years old. The father ran away because he feared what would happen to him if I reported what he did to me. That was even before the pregnancy. I carried the shame all alone and the guilt that came with it. He was somebody my parents knew and respected. I extended that respect to him until he forcibly did that to me and ran away.
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When I got pregnant, I didn’t even know I was pregnant. What did I know at that age? My mom beat me for being promiscuous. My dad blamed my mom for not handling me with tact and careful supervision. Until I revealed who did it, they both declared me guilty.
I narrated what happened to me through tears and, out of anger, my mom stormed the compound of the man’s family. Even the family didn’t know his whereabouts.
“Ɔdi ne ho aka nwira.”
Literally, he touched the bush with his skin, a phrase that means he had run away like a fugitive.
I gave birth to a girl, went back to school and tried everything within my power to make it in life. While I struggled through life, I also struggled through my relationships. Men would stay with me knowing very well that I had a daughter and later use the same reason to disappear from my life.
David was different. He built a relationship with my daughter and went out with her as often as he could. Whenever he called and my daughter was around, he would ask me to give the phone to her and the two of them would talk happily and heartily. I knew it was meant to be. That special one they talked about, the one who would come and make everything make sense, had arrived.
I introduced him to my parents and they accepted him wholeheartedly and instantly made him part of the family. My mom would call and ask about him. My dad would say, “I hope you’re taking care of him very well.”
His parents were not as transparent as mine. They could be happy about my presence today and tomorrow go quiet on me. The good thing was that they never said they didn’t want me. They were just not as expressive as my parents were. I accepted them as they presented themselves to me and respected them through and through as my own parents.
We dated for three years before we agreed to get married. David was virtually living in my house by then. He would come on a weekend and not leave until two weekends later. He would leave and within a few days be back again. I cooked for him even though he never gave housekeeping money. I washed for him when he hadn’t given me money for soap. Whatever he needed to feel at home, I provided. Don’t get me wrong, he also did what he could as a man in my life.
One day, he and his family came home to perform the knocking rite. My father treated their visit as though they were sacred beings, with full respect and honour. He put the dowry list in an envelope and sealed it before giving it to them. I didn’t see what was inside but I trusted my dad to be fatherly, even when preparing the dowry list.
A day later, David came to my place looking as though he had been hurt. He showed me the list and screamed, “All this money for parents? Not only that, but look at what I’m expected to buy. Did your father think I was coming to buy you?”
That hurt but I remained calm. I went through the list and the total monetary commitment amounted to GHC2,100. That’s the amount for my dad, my mom, the family and my brothers. He thought it was too expensive. I said, “No need to get worked up about this. We can call and respectfully ask him to reduce it. It’s possible.”
He screamed, “He shouldn’t have written this in the first place. What for? Nyɛ asɛm na aba aaa nka born one deɛ, bride price fa ne ho bɛn?”
Basically, he was saying I wasn’t worth paying a bride price for because I was a born-one woman.
I asked what he had said, hoping he would regretfully retract it but he boldly repeated his statement and asked me, “Or your dad has forgotten you’re a born-one woman?”
I thanked him for putting me in my place and asked him to leave while I figured things out with my dad. I called my dad and told him I had changed my mind about the marriage. He was angry and asked to speak to David. I said, “No need. I’m fine. He’s not the one leaving me. I am.”
That very day, I called David and told him how disrespected I felt by his statement and that because of it, there was no need to proceed with the marriage. “I’m not doing it again. Thank you for putting me in my place.”
I didn’t get an apology from him or even a word that showed he had realized his mistake. He came to my place two days later, thinking what I had said was a joke. I’d packed all his things into a bag. The moment I saw his face and the bag he had brought, intending to stay for days, I handed him his belongings, thanked him for everything and locked my door.
He was stunned. “Ah, are you serious? You mean I can’t play with you again?”
He’s still asking for another chance. He even went through my dad, the same person he insulted. I told my dad everything that made me decide against the marriage. He was so embarrassed to hear me say it. “Yeah, that’s what he said. If he respected us, do you think such words would have come from him?” I asked my dad.
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My dad believes that as humans we make mistakes sometimes, so I should reconsider. I tell him, “When a dog shows you its teeth, believe that it’s ready to bite you.”
I’m not desperate for marriage. I’m desperate for respect and peace of mind. If I find those things even in the lowliest of people, I will say yes to him. You can be the wealthiest and most powerful man, but if you don’t give me these, I’m out. How much is GHC2,100? Ah!
—Sarpomaa
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