I paid my bride price in a bid to assist my husband.
When I first brought Andrew home to meet my parents, their faces said it all. My father was silent, but my mum pulled me aside and went straight to the point.
“I don’t hate Andrew,” she said, lowering her voice, “but I detest the fact that he has nothing doing.”
I snapped immediately.
“But Mum, he’s a graduate! He’ll get work soon. He’ll support me and the home.”
My mum shook her head.
“My child, family life is not like that. If you both came here and told me he was even a barrow pusher, I would not be angry. At least I would know he is trying. A man should not fold his hands and wait endlessly for government work. If the government doesn’t employ him, will he starve his family? Let him do something. Anything. It is better that way.”
She kept talking, but truth be told, I wasn’t listening. In my mind, she was lucky, she married a rich man. My own path could be different. I believed I would have to build with my husband until wealth came, so why not start from where we were?
My parents eventually accepted Andrew, since they saw I wasn’t going to change my mind.
I was working in a bank then, with a good salary. I asked Andrew what he could contribute for the marriage rites, but he sighed and said,
“You know you are all I have. I don’t have money. I wish I could help.” He held his head like a man in pain, almost in tears.
Out of pity, I hugged him and told him everything would be fine. He assured me that his father would at least handle the bride price. I breathed with relief. I was already shouldering every other bill, but at least the bride price was a man’s honor, something his people should do.
When my friend Amaka saw how I was running around for the wedding, buying our clothes, sorting things for umunna and umuada, she was alarmed.
“Eh! You are the bride! You are not supposed to carry bills like this. Except you just want to assist him a little, but this one is too much, to think you are just 24, it is not like you’re rushing. Or wait, are you pregnant?” She even touched my flat stomach.
I laughed. “Stop it. You know that’s against our Christian faith. I’m only trying to be a helpmeet to my husband.”
It didn’t make sense to her. But to me, I was convinced.
However, when it was time for our traditional marriage, Andrew cried out that his father didn’t have money to pay the dowry. At first I was disappointed.
He kept saying he was sorry, he kept wishing he could help and all that.
So I ended up paying my own bride price, the priest blessed us, and we started our home.
That was when reality struck.
Our honeymoon began with me paying the house rent of seven hundred thousand naira. The month we got married was the month his house rent expired.
I fed us. I covered everything. Andrew, meanwhile, stayed at home watching football.
I hated seeing him idle, so I even helped secure a teaching job for him, but he looked me in the eyes and scoffed:
“You know you look down on me, how much is your own salary?” He asked with a smirk on his face.
I wondered what my salary had to do with him getting a job
“My salary is 400k” I replied.
“Yet you got me a job of 200k for me, do I look like a child to you? Anyways I don’t blame you, if Nigeria was good, I won’t have been here exchanging words with you.”
That was how he rejected the job.
Yet I remained loyal. Every month, I gave him half of my salary, begging him to save it for the house. Instead, he blew it on betting. Bet Naija became his career.
Still, I refused to give up.
I’ve always wanted my marriage to work no matter what.
When I got pregnant, I told him I couldn’t keep handing him money because I needed to start buying baby things. That was the month he raised his hand against me and beat me black and blue. Then I realized: it was my money that had kept him calm all this while. Out of fear, I resumed giving him money just to buy peace.
I begged him at least to save something for the hospital bills. He nodded. But when I went into labor with complications, and I asked him to pay, he looked at me blankly and said,
“I don’t have any money.”
I had to call my parents and they came to my aid at the last minute.
When I gave birth, but ended up losing my bundle of joy, because of delays and the rest of it.
I wept badly.
I almost wanted to ask God if I did anything bad to him.
I wanted to question God and ask him a lot of questions.
I don’t know if it was a bad decision that I made by wanting my marriage to work by all means.
The only answer I got was,
“I didn’t give you the suffering, you chose it yourself, I don’t give anything evil to my children.”
I wept badly and asked God to help me out.
In my broken state, already knew that both taking care of myself and home will still fall on me. Despite the pain I was going through, I decided to stay with my parents for the meantime, and moreover, I didn’t want my mum to see Andrew in another light, so he didn’t object.
One week later, I went back home with my mum to pack some things, only to meet him inside our matrimonial home with two women. Laughing. Drinking. Enjoying.
I didn’t shout. I didn’t fight. I simply gathered my things and left. He was shocked. The girls too.
I called my lawyer and filed for divorce. That wasn’t marriage; it was bondage.
By the next month, the house rent expired. With nowhere to go, he signed the divorce papers and started squatting with a friend.
The last I heard of him, he was teaching for ₦30,000 a month. And I shook my head.
So na me go carry devil with my own hands.
I picked up the pieces of my life and I’m thriving once more again.
The Lesson:
Love is patient, yes. Love endures, yes. But love is not foolish.
A man who refuses to work, who rejects little beginnings, and who feels entitled to a woman’s sweat is not a husband, he is a burden.
Marriage is partnership. If one person is carrying the whole weight, that is not marriage; it is slavery.
My mother was right all along: a man must never fold his hands doing nothing. Even if the work is small, let him be busy. Responsibility is not in titles, it is in action.
And for us women, let us learn: support is good, but blind sacrifice can destroy you.
And lastly, the signs are always there, do not overlook red flags.
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