My heart cries.
The stories I have been told. The way I've seen defeat die and triumph after their escape. The sounds of their voices. I cannot forget the ways these moments and memories have touched me.
Today I spoke with a woman who shared with me a very dear part of her heart. When recounting her experiences with an abusive ex-partner, she confided, "Efia, I used to suffer."
"At church, he wouldn’t let me go to mine. I am Catholic and he was Assemblies of God. I didn’t go to my own church for two years. One day, when I was at his [church], he looked at my engagement ring, and because it 'wasn’t facing the right way,' he told me that a man had [had] sex with me and changed the position of the ring during it." She demonstrated on another ring on her hand, and grabbed my knee for emphasis.
She told me about the time when her phone texted her an automated message while she was asleep, and he came in the room, slapped her awake, and told her to show him who was texting her.
"He put a passcode on [my] phone so he could have access to it.
She explained that he used her phone more than his own and was convinced that she was involved in an extramarital affair. Although seemingly obsessed with her and her life, he resented her, constantly belittling her. “He told me he wish he didn’t marry me and called me a ‘prostitute’s daughter.'"
"but now I am okay."
He would "lock me inside the room [the house] so that I could not leave to go to work. He did not want me to go. He would get angry when my boss would call and tell me it was time to go to the clinic."
She was a prisoner within the four walls of her own home.
"Everyone in the community thought he was such a good man. No one would believe if you told them. That’s how they always are. You would never know...for men, they are always right. We are not understanding each other. I know a lot of people who are single parents because of misunderstanding."
She explained feeling trapped and unable to express the realities of her relationship because her partner had so many positive community interactions that she felt no one would believe or validate her.
"He would slap me into the ground in from of my auntie when we were walking outside.”
“I was afraid that one day he would kill me.”
How do you respond to that? What is the appropriate response? I hope she felt consolation in the way I listened, because I was at a loss for words.
The most gut-wrenching part of her story was also the catalyst for her escape and the rebirth of her new life. She solemnly explained to me, "one night I went to the store to buy rat poison to kill myself and my daughter, but he found the 'medicine' and hid it. I then realized that I didn’t have to kill myself. Many girls in Ghana in this situation kill themselves and their children too... because they are afraid the husband will hurt them too."
"It is very common."
But I decided that I could walk away, and I thank God every day.
“I thank God that I picked up my bag and left.”
She alternated between gripping tales of horrific maltreatment and moments of resolute hope. After every story of heartache, there was always a recompensing statement of resilience and freedom. I was blown away by her honesty but also her perspective.
“I sometimes at night lay in my bed and think, and thank God that I am now away.”
This powerful woman is a hardworking, successful, loving mother of two. She has used her pain as a springboard into success and growth. She has made the world beautiful because she refuses to be defeated by her scars. She gave me hope in overcoming even the most dark and daunting of circumstances and throughout this conversation I felt clearly the presence of God.
I will never forget the way she whispered my name as she said this:
"Efia, I used to suffer.
And now, I am free.”
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