I Wish I Had Cherished The Good Man God Gave Me

Posted on January 30, 2018

Waking up nowadays doesn’t feel like how it was when I was with Robertson, the good man God gave me. He would be up by 3:30am each day, fetch water, clean the house, and bath for our twins. The most enchanting moment of that morning would be when he fetches water for me to bath and ushers me into the bathroom… Robertson loved me so much that at a point I thought he was mad. He was too devoted to loving me that he puts paste on my brush before I brush my teeth. Yes, my husband loved me exceptionally.

Before marrying my lovely Robertson, I had two kids (sorry, children) of my own. So at the point in time when he proposed, I thought he was mocking me or wanted to come play around. I’m the last born of my parents and the first to ever get married in that family, though I am a ‘born two virgin. “This is definitely God’s favour; some ladies who have never given birth do not have men coming to seek for their hand in marriage”, I reminisced as I sat on the almost broken bench in my mother’s compound.

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Before I met Robertson

Kwame was my let me say “husband” in a way. I met him after SHS when I decided to undergo hairdressing apprenticeship rather than go to any tertiary institution. He was a very charming and smart guy. I melted for his words and deeds (he literally stole my attention). In no time, I was madly in love with Kwame. He promised to marry me and always accolated my beauty. Constant gifts and visits from him showed that he was serious about me.

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Though I wasn’t a new apprentice at my madam’s shop, I volunteered to run all the errands meant for newbie apprentices. These errands gave me opportunities to meet with Kwame as and when I wanted to. Kwame stayed closer to my madam’s shop so passing by to make out with him wasn’t a chore for me at all; Then when I close from the shop, I would pass by his place and take ‘for the last’ before heading home. The guy was good at what he does. Aside the regular meetups at his end, I got accustomed to giving him the little allowances I got from work. I also saved money just to buy him any nice thing I saw in town.

After three years of apprenticeship, I came out as a very good hairstylist. I left my madam’s shop with a good name as a fast learner and respectful girl. All this while, my mum wasn’t too convinced about this Kwame guy. But because Kwame idolized me and made me happy, I still insisted that he was the one I would be with.

Kwame…… Hmmmmm

On one of my many visits to Kwame’s, we talked about helping me get my own salon. He plainly wasn’t interested in the discussion, hinting he was out of cash. “Tell your dad to get you a place. He gave birth to you so it’s his responsibility not mine”, he said. The words pricked me in the heart.

After that rude outburst, everything changed. He refused to visit, pick my calls and never gave me money. But anytime he wanted sex, he cleverly had a way of getting me to succumb. I got pregnant eventually and upon telling him, he gave me the surprise of my life. The ‘gentleman’ beat the life out of me that I nearly lost the baby.

My miracle came when my dad got me a very big place to start my salon business; that was one of the benefits of being last baby, lol. I gave birth to a handsome boy for Kwame. I thought the coming of our child will make Kwame prepare to settle down with me. He never bothered meeting my parents either casually or to officially start a marriage conversation.

When I close from work each night, Kwame would meet me up uninvited, beat me and take all the money I had on me. My mum would then use her own resources to foot my hospital bills and other material needs my son and I had.

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I somehow patched things up with Kwame cos he was my first love and I still loved him despite his ugly behaviour. When my son was two and half, I got pregnant again. Kwame’s misbehaviour worsened; this time around he was chasing other girls in town. When I make an attempt to reason with him, he would resort to his regular beating.

When I decided to leave Kwame

My dad never knew of all Kwame did to me. Anytime Kwame beat me up, I played hide and seek with my dad so he doesn’t find out. My dad passed on few months after he got to know what Kwame was doing to his girl.

It took the intervention of mum’s friends and my pastor before I decided to leave Kwame for good. Now, my unmarried-self had two boys to take care of with no one to turn to for help. All the things in my shop were finished, forcing me to depend on my aged mother for support.

How I met Robertson

I met Robertson one afternoon when I was busily walking by the roadside to my shop. The car he was driving squealed to a stop, alerting me to raise my head to see what was happening around me. I saw some guy staring at me. “What or who is this guy looking at? Me, I have two children o”, I said to myself, in an attempt to continue my walk.

He stepped out of the car and motioned for me to stop. I did stop to listen to what he had to say. He told on and on about how beautiful I was and how he had intentions of marrying me. I laughed out loud as he spoke. I told him there and then: “Gentleman, I’m a mother of two who has seen it all. Please go sit in your car and try other girls”.

Robertson stood his ground and offered to take me where ever I was going to. He brought me to the shop. Upon seeing the terrible state the shop was in, he offered to help.

Within two months, he fixed everything making my salon better than its former glory. We got married five months later.

Why I lost Robertson

Robertson was good to me from the moment we met till recently when I had to pack out of his house. Sorry, I was forced to pack out.

I started hearing rumours of my husband having meeting series of women at different times. Knowing how gentlemanly he is, I didn’t want to pay heed. But the stories become one too many and always matched the locations my husband told me he was going to. I become alert.

All too soon, I started raising my voice at him when he got home from town. This drama kept unfolding every single night in our home. One time, I poked his eye and scratched his face with my nails all out of anger. My in-laws got to know about how I hurt their beloved and they jointly sent me packing. Now I’m back to my mum’s house with four kids; a set of twins I had with Robertson and Kwame’s two boys. Officially, I was going back to join three other spinsters.

I had forgotten where he picked me from and where he had brought me to. I’m seriously screwed, guys. I don’t know if he’d take me back.

It was back at my mum’s house I got wind of how the whole rumour plan was hatched. My sisters paid a lady to monitor my husband’s moves and report to them. They too reported the gist plus some fabrications to me, just to get me to react negatively. It all makes sense now; I so hate myself for believing them.

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When my sisters see me, they mock me for letting such a good man go. Now, I’m just like them—old, single and awesomely broke.

How I wish I had cherished the good man God brought my way.

#aGoodManIsHardToFind

Story By Regina Aba Oduma Asiedu