Cameroon timber
I knew his mother even before he had proposed to me. I walked by his place one day and the woman was there with him. When he saw me, he asked me to come and greet his mother, and I did. The woman asked my name and I mentioned it. She asked me, “So when are you saying yes to my son? Just imagine the two of you together, you’ll have beautiful kids.”
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We were just friends, and because we lived very close to each other, we met a lot. He hadn’t proposed. He hadn’t made any move to let me see that he loved me, except that he would call me to see him anytime he saw me walking by his house to mine. Yes, we texted once in a while, but it wasn’t so deep that I attached any emotional sentiments to it.
I laughed at what his mother said and took it as an old person’s joke, but the woman wouldn’t let my hand go until I said something. So I told her, “We are just friends. I don’t think he likes me to be his girlfriend.”
The woman pulled my hand and said, “Then take this as a proposal. I know my son and I know what he wants.”
That same evening, Roland texted to tell me his mother was serious about me, so I should consider what she said. I asked him, “Who wants me, you or your mother?”
He answered, “Whatever my mom says is the truth, so take what she said as the gospel truth.”
I wanted him to tell me how he truly felt about me without using what his mother said as the springboard. He confessed he had always loved me and was waiting for the perfect time, and that he had mentioned it to his mother, hence his mother’s reaction. I told him to give me time and space to think about it.
A week or so after that interaction with his mother, we had a very deep conversation about his proposal and how it happened. I looked into his eyes and asked questions. I accepted his proposal that day, and we became a thing.
Our relationship grew deeper roots in just a few months than some relationships do in years. He asked me to take him home to meet my parents. I asked if it was his decision or if it was his mother pushing him. I had to ask because of the way his mother always talked about the fact that she couldn’t wait to see her grandchildren.
Our relationship was only five months old when I traveled with him from Accra to Nkawkaw to meet my parents. They liked him too and told us they were ready to accept him into the family. We did the knocking rite a few weeks later so he could get the dowry list and start preparing for marriage.
We bought this and that and stored them in a wardrobe in his room. The clothes we bought were stored there. Everything on the list that we purchased, we kept there. That wardrobe also served as my personal wardrobe anytime I decided to spend the night.
Roland’s place had a bedroom and a half. I called it a half because it was a small room. That was where his mother stayed whenever she was around. I never stayed with him whenever his mother came around.
One day, I took money from the office and brought it home with me. Because I spent the night with Roland, I left my bag in that wardrobe. On Saturday, his mother came to visit him, so I left for my place, leaving my bag and the money in his wardrobe.
On Sunday evening, when the woman left, I went back to his place and spent the night. In the morning, on my way to work, I checked on the money and it wasn’t in my bag.
My first thought was that it might have fallen in the wardrobe, so I didn’t worry much about it. I came home after work and checked again, and it wasn’t there. In fact, I turned the wardrobe upside down and even looked in places where I hadn’t put my bag.
He helped me search the place while he kept asking me, “Are you sure you brought the money to this house?” I answered, “Yes, I did. It was in a white envelope. It was the last thing my eyes caught in the bag when I placed it down.” He asked how much, and I mentioned GHC2,000. I was disoriented because I couldn’t think of any other possibility. I said, “Let’s ask your mom. Maybe she saw it somewhere and decided to place it somewhere else.”
This was me being diplomatic.
He asked, “What does my mom have to do with this? Why do we have to ask her?” We argued it out. He got angry that I would bring his mom’s name into my carelessness. He said I had misplaced the money out of carelessness and that he didn’t believe the money had even gotten to the house.
The next day, I called his mom and respectfully asked if she had found the money. She said no. I thanked her and hung up.
A few minutes later, Roland called and started insulting me. “What kind of disrespect is that? What’s my mother doing with your money? How much is GHC2,000 that I can’t give to my mom?”
I closed from work only to find his mother at his place, and this woman burst into tears immediately she saw my face. She recounted how I had embarrassed her for suspecting she had taken my money, and Roland, on the other side, started dishing out subtle insults toward me.
I apologized to them and said that wasn’t my intention. I left for my place, and later in the evening Roland texted, “Consider our marriage over. I can’t marry a woman who’ll think the woman who raised me is a thief.”
I read the message but didn’t respond. He went on and on, but I ignored him. I woke up the next morning and I had been blocked.
I told myself, “So be it. I’ve begged enough and I’m not going to beg again.”
I went about my business. I even changed my route so I wouldn’t see him again. Two weeks later, he was here asking me why I didn’t fight for our relationship when he said it was over. “Roland, I don’t have the strength beyond sorry. The biggest fight for me was to say sorry. What did you expect?”
I Left Him Because He Didn’t Help In The Kitchen
He is asking me to come back and that he acted out of anger because his mother was involved. I told him to continue acting in anger because until I find my money, I will still hold theories in my head and that theory will involve his mom and himself, because who else could enter his room to steal my money?
He’s still trying to rebuild from the destruction, but chale, I’m tired of the drama already. There’s no way I’m going back to that. So anytime his mother is involved, he’s going to leave me? Then he should leave now rather than later.
—Abla
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