I was eleven years old when I met my husband. He was thirty-seven years old, and I was going to be his third wife and the youngest he had ever selected for a wife. That made me proud. I had been raised for this—to be chosen to be a wife—and having it happen before my peers filled me with a sense of accomplishment. As far as I could remember, my mother and aunties would tell me that one day, my beauty and gracefulness would fetch me a wealthy husband, and right from age seven, they dedicated time and energy to prepare me for such a man. “Nyhira,” my mother would say, “You were the only girl child who survived for a reason. Your name means blessing, because God blessed us with you so that you can change the fortunes of this family.”
Despite being rather large, my family was not poor. My grandfather had borne eight male children from his three wives, and they had helped him till the land and make lucrative money from the family’s cocoa farms. As the second child, my father had a lot of influence over the proceeds that were shared among the family and we got a fair share. So we were one of the more financially comfortable families in our town. But that was not enough for my mother and my auntie Felicia – my father’s only sister. They coveted a more luxurious life. They envied the city women who came to the town on weekends and holidays and wore fancy dresses from the city with high heels to church, and they wanted to live in a bigger house with louvres and terrazzo flooring instead of wooden windows and cement flooring. They wanted extra money to visit the city every week to drink alcohol and dance in semi-dark rooms with flashing coloured lights and music that was so loud, it almost hurt your eardrums.
I loved hearing them talk about what they’d do with money while they braided my hair. They always made sure my hair was neatly braided – refreshing the braids every Saturday morning – and that I wore the best clothes among my peers. They would pool their money together and go to the nearest city – Koforidua – to purchase clothes and sweet-smelling cosmetics for me. Sometimes, they would let me tag along, and I realised that they always spent about sixty percent of the money they had on me. I felt loved and cherished. I was too young and too naive to understand that I was an investment. They were investing in me because I would be their means to achieve the life they had always desired. My father was not any better; he simply had different motivations for his actions. He was eager to give me away for marriage when I was unsoiled and most valuable so that I would appeal to the upper echelon whose tables he wanted to dine at. I was going to be the one who turned the family’s fortunes around, and I felt proud that I had the power to do so.
So, that fateful morning, when my auntie Felicia came to me while I was sweeping the compound to inform me that my husband-to-be had arrived to take a look at me, my heart leapt for joy. Finally, I was going to be chosen, and by getting chosen, I was going to make everybody’s life better. That was what I had been preparing for since I was seven.
“Let’s get you quickly washed, perfumed and dressed in a lovely dress, Nyhira,” my aunt said, her body vibrating with excitement. “He’s just here to look at you, but the fact that he’s even considering you is a major win. Let’s see how it goes.”
“I will get chosen, Aunt Felicia,” I said firmly.
Laughing, she took my hand and drew me inside as tiny drops of rain began to drizzle.
“You know what? I believe you, Nhyira. You have been trained for this.”
Twenty minutes later, with my body freshly washed, perfumed, and covered in a mid-length yellow sundress, my aunt ushered me into our living room, where my parents were sitting on one of our long cane chairs. My father had relinquished his big, single chair with the softer fabric-covered foam near the door to a man of average build wearing very nice clothes. I thought he was good-looking and around the same age as my youngest uncle. I was a little intimidated by the intense way he was watching me, but I remembered my training and lowered my eyes slightly so that I was not looking directly at him anymore. That somewhat calmed my nerves, and I waited to be spoken to.
“Nyhira, come forward. Come and meet Mr Addison,” my father beckoned.
I raised my head and moved further into the room to stand in front of the stranger. It was on the tip of my tongue to offer a greeting, but I knew better than to speak first. I held my breath as he regarded me, hoping that he would find me suitable.
“Turn around, Nhyira.”
Those were the first words he spoke to me. They didn’t alarm or surprise me because I had been prepared for this. Slowly, I turned my body around so that he could have a better look at what he was going in for.
I did not flinch when he reached out to feel my breasts and paw my buttocks. I had been prepared for this too. “Nhyira, your husband-to-be will touch your assets to confirm what he will be touching in his bed,” my Aunt Felicia had informed me earlier. “As a woman, your face is your biggest currency. After your face has caught a man’s attention, your body is next. Your breasts and your buttocks are the next things that will interest him.”
That had made me a little self-conscious. I had been an early bloomer, and my breasts had perked up, and my buttocks had fattened. I had more “assets” than most of my peers, but it was nowhere near what the other women in my family had. When I expressed my concern, she had laughed. “Don’t worry, my dear. Your growing assets have a unique appeal that will quickly attract a wealthy husband. Trust me, you’re perfect.” That had made me smile, and remembering that, I stood still as my suitor pawed me in front of my family.
“She’ll do,” he announced in satisfaction after releasing me.
I felt relief and pride as I watched the smiles on my family’s faces. I had been chosen, and so early too. I didn’t even have to wait until fifteen like my cousin Maa Yaa.
“I shall go and inform my current wives and my elders that I have found a new wife,” Mr Addison said. “I will come back in two weeks to take my wife home. I will also bring the list of items you have requested as her bride price. You will not have to stress yourselves either. My people and I will bring all the food and drinks we will need for the ceremony. I will also send clothes ahead for my bride and the other women in the family.”
“Thank you, Mr Addison,” my parents chorused. I could see the sheer joy in my mother and aunt’s faces. They were getting closer to the lives they had envisioned for themselves.
Two weeks came quickly. The morning had started with a clear sky but a light drizzle of rain, just as it had the first time I met my husband-to-be. I was excited to be getting married, especially after I had seen the pretty clothes that had been sent for me. The ceremony itself was quick and uneventful, and I was soon married. The food and drinks were my favourite part. The fried rice with big fried chicken thighs had been delicious, as were the cups of sweet drinks I had consumed. Those were not foods we ate often, so everyone was in good spirits. Well, everyone in my family was in good spirits except for my older brother Kojo, who was angry for some unknown reason and refused to attend the wedding. It made me a little sad, but I forgot about him in the bustle of activities.
When it was almost time for me to leave with my husband’s family, I went to the room I shared with my aunt and some of my younger cousins to complete my packing. I had decided to pack my mirror last. It was a beautiful mirror my mother had bought for me from the city. The mirror itself was oval, the size of four of my palms put together, with a flowery plastic casing and long handle. It was my most prized possession.
“This is you, Nhyira,” my mother had crowed as I stared at my image in the mirror. “You have beautiful skin without any blemishes. You’re perfect, and that is why you will be chosen.”
I loved to look at myself in the mirror, to remind myself of the perfection that would give my family a better life. Checking to make sure that nobody would be coming into the room soon, I opened my old wooden clothing box to take out a teddy bear my brother had bought for me on my birthday two years ago. It was light pink and about 6 inches tall and had a sweet face. Looking at her made me happy, and it felt good to hold her against my chest. I had named her Sugar. I loved Sugar so much, but my mother and aunt had disapproved of her. I only took her out when I was alone to play with or talk to. Or when it was just my brother around.
“That is for children, Nhyira,” my aunt had scolded when she had caught me holding Sugar a few months ago. She had taken her away, but Kojo had found her and brought her back to me. Sugar was our little secret, and seeing her now reminded me of my brother. Why was he not happy for me today?
I stuffed Sugar into the bag and raised the mirror to look at my reflection for the last time. Inching closer to the open window for a better view, I tripped on the rug my aunt kept in front of the bed and had to grab onto the bedpost to keep my balance.
I gasped when the mirror slipped from my hand and fell. Bending down, I picked it up to check the extent of damage. The plastic holding the mirror was intact, but the mirror had cracked into several lines. All the pieces were still in the casing but no longer whole. I held it in front of my face, mourning the loss of one of my most prized possessions. I stared at my face through the broken mirror, my image divided into several parts because of the broken parts. I stared for a while, transfixed. I knew that my reflection was divided because of the broken mirror, but I could not help raising a hand to my face to feel the smoothness. Disconcerted by the confusing emotions I was suddenly feeling, I shoved the mirror away. I was beautiful. I was perfect. I was not the image I saw in the broken mirror. I was whole, and because I was, I had been chosen to be a wealthy man’s third wife, and everyone in my family will be blessed as a result.
With a determined nod, I opened my bag again and took out the teddy bear I had tried to sneak into my new life and returned it to the box. Teddy bears were for children, even Sugar. I hadn’t had my period yet, but I was a woman. I was already a wife. What I needed was a new mirror. I needed a whole, unbroken mirror that would reflect how beautiful and perfect I was.
With that last thought, I closed my bag again and left the room to join my husband, ready for this new, wealthy life. I wondered briefly if the other wives would like me. I will make sure that they do. After all, everyone loved me. Maybe one of them would have a spare mirror to share. Or at least a mirror that I could look into to see my reflection again and reassure myself that I was not broken.
