“Where would I go?” I asked, still staring at her. I wasn’t completely convinced that it wasn’t just some sick joke my husband had thought up to torture me some more, but this was the first time I had a glimmer of hope outside of my current situation, and I was willing to take the chance.
“I will take you out of here, to a friend’s place in the city. She has an organisation aimed at helping girls like you,” she answered.
I swallowed, trying to tamp down my growing excitement. I needed to be careful not to set myself up for disappointment if this turned out to be a sick dream or a trap Baffour had set for me.
“He won’t let me go. He has people all around town who bow to him. I won’t be allowed to simply leave without anyone sounding an alarm to him.”
“I know, and that is why we are going to let him want to let you go instead. We’re going to use his own desires against him. If it works, he will free you from this marriage, and I will bring someone to send you away to my friend in the city.”
“What do you mean? How are we going to do that?”
She leaned forward. “We’re going to make you useless to him. Baffour wouldn’t want a barren wife. He wants children now and will do anything I tell him to do to achieve that. So we will make you barren.”
My eyes widened. I didn’t want to have kids then but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be barren either.
“You wouldn’t actually be barren, we will just make him believe that you are,” Beamah added quickly, reading my mind again.
“How will we do that?” I asked softly, mind reeling.
She took my hand and held my gaze. “You’re going to have to be strong and brave for this to work. It is going to take some time to be able to free you.”
“How long?” I asked, heart pounding.
“More than a year, but hopefully, less than two.”
I felt my heart plummet. I had been hoping that it would be much sooner, a couple of months at most. Now that I have tasted hope, I realised just how much I hated my life, and I was anxious to escape it.
“Why can’t it be sooner?” I asked.
“Because we have to get him to trust me first. We can’t afford to give him the idea of entrusting your childbearing into someone else’s hands. I need him to trust me, and to do that, we have to give him what he wants — or appear to. We will make him believe you’re pregnant and then you will miscarry it. After about three miscarriages, he will believe me when I tell him that you’re barren.”
I was still disappointed that I had to wait to escape, but her plan was genius.
“I will give you some drinks that your husband will think are for fertility, but they will do the opposite. And another will mimic pregnancy symptoms. I will recommend days that would yield conception to him, and give you something to add to his food that will make him sleep. You just have to let him believe that you have had sex when he wakes. Later on, when you’ve had your last “miscarriage”, I will give you another drink that will make you weak and sick. When I tell him that you’ve become useless to him, he will believe me.”
I stared at her in shock, the diabolical plan echoing in my head. “You’ve done this before.”
It wasn’t a question, but she held my gaze and nodded. “Yes, I have. Not in this town, but these men are the same everywhere, and it always works. It will especially work on my cousin.”
That night, I lay in bed for a long time thinking about Beamah and the discussion we had. I was afraid to close my eyes and sleep. I was afraid I would wake up and it would all be a dream.
The next time I saw Beamah, I thought I had imagined our discussion. She was the same mean woman I had met the first time. I stared at her intently as she and my husband discussed my fertility. I searched her face for any sign of the woman I spoke to the day before, but I couldn’t find any. Then she asked my husband to excuse us to examine me some more. The change in her when he left was mindblowing.
“Ramatu, you have to be strong. There will be times when you may doubt that it can ever end. This isn’t going to be all pretence. Sometimes, the pain and sickness you will feel will be real. But trust me when I tell you that it will all come to an end. Do you have a dream? Is there anything you dream about away from here?”
Choked by emotions, I whispered, “Yes. Yes, I do. There’s this dream I keep having that I hope will come to pass.”
She squeezed my hand briefly. “Good. Hold on to that dream, Ramatu. You’re going to need it.”
PRESENT
It had been months of difficulty, and Beamah was right. There were times when I was doubtful that her plan would work, but it did, and here I was.
Now, turning to the woman who had secretly become a friend, a confidant, and my knight in shining armour, I hugged her tightly, crying tears of intense relief and joy.
“It worked, Beamah. It worked! I am free! I am free! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!”
Beamah smiled at me, wiping at her tears too. “I told you it would. None of these men can take the stigma of not having a child. That was the only way to save you. Are you ready to leave? I shouldn’t have come, but I wanted to be sure that you were okay. Your ride is here. I have already put the bag we packed for you in the boot. I promise that my friend will take care of you and help you plan a different life that will be happier and more fulfilling.”
My eyes filled with gratitude, and I hugged her again. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”
“You can thank me by having a good life, Ramatu. That is all I wish for you. For you to start over and make a better life for yourself. I’ll see you in a month or two, but if you need to talk to me, you can call me. My friend Margaret will give you a phone when you arrive.”
I hugged her again, and when she pulled back, she pushed me toward the car. “You need to leave before anyone sees you around here.”
The driver opened the car for me to sit, and a few seconds later, we were off. I didn’t even bother to take a last look around at what I would be leaving behind. There was nothing or nobody I would miss from my old life except Beamah. It had taken years of planning, but finally, I was free from the oppression of marriage and family ties. I belonged only to me. I owned myself, my body, and my spirit. I could have likes and dislikes, I could speak when I wanted to speak, and I could live without fear.
When we were miles away, I glanced down and a bubble of laughter escaped me. I was wearing a flowing, flowery dress.
“Can you please stop for a little while?” I asked the driver, who had been very nice to me so far.
“Of course, madam.”
When he parked by the side of the road, I got out, laughing hysterically. I was free. Free! I didn’t care if anyone passing by thought I was crazy. Turning my head up into the sun, I laughed in unbridled relief and joy. My dream had come true.
