GC Life 101: Guilty Or Not Guilty?


I was only seventeen when I left my village (Saboba) to come to university in Accra.

My mother accompanied me to the bus station and wept as I boarded alone. I was a village girl who had never even been to the capital of the region. In my bra were all her savings including a little from my very reluctant father. This was however only enough to cover my fees and transport.

When I got to Accra, the only money I had left besides my school fees was 2 cedis, 50pesewas. At least I was sure of a ball of kenkey.

I had no hall, no hostel, no bed, no space to lay my head. So I alternated between the hostels of the people I knew from SSS. They were not always welcoming but I had to shut my ears to their insults. How do I mind them when I have nowhere to go?

To keep body and soul together, I struggled!

One blessed afternoon, as I did my usual walk from the Jones Quartey Building towards the N block, Allah himself smiled upon me: A shinny black Mercedes SUV pulled up right next to me. Initially I kept walking because there was no way somebody in that ‘devil’s chariot’ could be talking to me!!

But it drove after me, honked and stopped again. I stopped.

He was looking for a nursing school which I showed him but he ended up inviting me for lunch and yes, I quickly jumped in! My village legs inside a Mercedes Benz?!

To cut a long story short, Kwame (As I came to know him) turned out to be genuinely sweet and charming and soon we got closer. Our relationship blossomed beautifully.

He looked out for me like an angel or brother and I considered myself the luckiest girl alive. My hostel hopping and hungry days quickly faded away. How could I reject such a blessing?

As soon as my final year rolled by, Kwame proposed to me and I said yes. So we got married few days after my last paper although his family kicked vehemently against it.

His family did not like us together because I was a muslim and also because my social class was way beneath theirs. They believed I was a gold digger.

I must admit that Kwame helped me a lot (perhaps even saved me) but I grew to love him genuinely. He was my Savior and I would always be thankful. How would I wish anything bad for a man who lifted me out of the gutter? But his family continued to hate me.

All the same, I couldn’t be bothered, I was in dreamland!

One week after our marriage, dreamland came to a noisy screeching halt!

Kwame totally transformed, he became a monster, a beast roaring out of nowhere.

At the least provocation, he would slap, punch or kick the living light out of me with the speed of lightning. And if I ever dare try to talk to him about it, It only got worse.

My paradise crumbled before my helpless eyes. I had no one to turn to. It felt trance-like the way he completely changed. I had to make up lies upon lies to the neighbors about my bruises almost on a daily basis.

I stayed home and worked like a dog and got treated as such too. Between being beaten and kicked by my husband, I miscarried 3 times in one year.

My life was a nightmare.

I tried really hard to endure and prayed it would end but I literally lived from hell gate to hell gate.

One dark night, Kwame accused me of not putting enough salt in his soup. I apologized but he slapped me for talking back, smashed my head against the wall and strangled me till I choked. I fell to the ground and covered my head with my hands.

He kicked and slapped me till I was a bloody mess and then he left me alone. Just when I heaved a sigh of relief thinking he was done, he came back with fresh accusations. I was doing dishes in the kitchen when he came to ask me about his favorite fork which he couldn’t find. I had no idea where the fork was but I told him I was sure I would find it somewhere around the house.

Kwame wouldn’t take that answer. He got angry and started shouting about me not taking good care of his house and started hitting me again.

He grabbed a pan and smashed it on my head. I could hear my skull literally crack, I was dazed with pain and for once I reacted. My instincts kicked into gear and I turned around with a 12″ slicer I was washing and run straight into him blindly.

Kwame dropped to the floor instantly…

Motionless.

I knew something was wrong when he didn’t get up to beat me again.

I bent down and shook him without response.

Still silence.

Then I touched my fingers to his pulse:

I had killed my husband…

GC Life 101 is a feature on GhanaCelebrities.Com. This looks at various life realities in short story forms as we try to entertain, educate and inform our readers on a variety of life experiences. Articles for GC Life 101 will be filed under Blog.

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  1. Miyagi July 13, 2012
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