I Would Not Let Him Steal My Daughter

I met Ken when I was twenty-five years old. He was everything a young female could ever want; tall, confident, and naturally charismatic in that manner Ghanaian men can be if they really want something. We had a collision at a friend's birthday party. He was not the most talkative person, but his tranquility drew me to him. We began talking in the course of that night, and by the week's end, he was already referring to me as "wifee".

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Our relationship lasted for two years, during which we did all the things that are considered romantic such as long phone calls at night, frequent trips, and discussing on WhatsApp for hours about our future. I was so sure that we were meant to be. I believed him when he said he wanted to marry me. I took all the "I love yous" that rolled off his tongue like a promise, to be true.

Then, unexpectedly, I got to know about the pregnancy.

The moment I dialed his number is crystal clear in my memory still. My hands were shaking, and I was nearly crying when I managed to say, “Ken, I have missed my period. I just did a test and it's positive.”

He went mute. For almost a minute. After that, he sighed and said, “Juliet, I am not prepared for this. Please do not complicate things.” “Complicate things?” I repeated, my heart breaking to pieces. He went on, “I will transfer you some money. Let’s just keep this low key.”

Those words, “handle this quietly,” really hurt me. The man who at one point asserted that he couldn’t live without me now, all of a sudden, wished to totally wipe out me and our baby from his life. I refused the money. I said that I was going to have the baby. He cut the line. The following time I met him, he was at my doorstep with money in his hand. He told me, “Take this. If you believe that it’s not enough, I will give more when everything is sorted out.” I said, “Please go away before my father sees you and starts interrogating me.”

Then he stopped picking up my calls and was adamant that I wouldn’t be able to pin him down with a love child. “Who knows,” he remarked, “it might not even be mine, and you’re trying to impose it on me.” Those words are still fresh in my memory as if they were just uttered.

I had a baby all by myself. My dad and mom disowned me so my aunt took me. I went through a lot but kept up with the lifestyle of tomorrow not being there. My little one was my motivation to live. The moment Sika, my daughter, was born; the earth felt new again. She was gifted with Ken’s beautiful eyes; alert and curious. Each time I stared at her, I recognized the one that had caused me pain though I also saw my strength to fight on.

Out of the clear blue, Ken came back after three years.

He called me on a Sunday afternoon while I was giving Sika her food. This time his voice sounded gentle. “Juliet, I have been thinking of the baby and you lately. May I come over and have a word with you?”

Initially, I was unsure whether to shed tears or to burst out laughing. But a little part of me longed for finality. Thus, I consented to a meeting.

We met one day after work. He appeared different; he had aged, he was more composed and determined. He told me he was married. I said, “Congrats.” He said that the mother knew about the child. I inquired, “Whose kid?” He proclaimed he was about to “do the right thing.” I wanted to dispute, but there was no use. Therefore, he was allowed to see Sika. He started showing up on weekends, bringing her toys and clothes, taking pictures like a father who is so proud of his daughter.

He began paying for her daycare and medical expenses. I got the feeling of peace for the first time in years. It appeared that the stars had aligned and his mind was back home. What I didn’t know was that he had other plans.

After a year, he said, “Juliet, I want Sika to come live with me.”

I was stunned. “Live with you? Why?”

He said, “She is my daughter, and I just don’t want my kids being raised apart.”

“Your kids?” I repeated. That was the moment when I learned that his wife had just delivered and they had agreed to keep both the kids under one roof. I thought his wife was not happy about his trips to see Sika, so to settle everything, they were saying my daughter should live with them.

I denied his request. I stressed that Sika was too young and that I could not put my trust in a man who had disappeared when we were most in need of him. He termed it selfishness on my part. I rebutted that he was merely asserting his privilege.

We were embroiled in a conflict for weeks. Then one day, he knocked on my door with two men. My heart raced as I held Sika tight.

Ken said, “Juliet,” and then he introduced me to his pastor who had a message for me. We took our seats, and then the pastor prayed prior to speaking. He asserted that it was God's plan for Ken and his spouse to bring up Sika. He narrated his  dream that Sika's future was endangered because she was not having a strong foundation. He suggested me to attend Sunday service at his church to find out the divine plans, however, first he insisted me to let Sika go. “This is a spiritual struggle,” he claimed.

I almost chuckled because of the incredulity I felt. I looked Ken directly in the eye and asked, “Is the same pastor who didn’t predict this pregnancy now able to see the future?” He didn’t like it at all. Before it could reach that point, I told them to go. The pastor said, “Do not close your heart when the oracle utters. If you truly love your daughter, give her a brighter future.”

After that, I had a hard time falling asleep. I was lying next to my daughter, keeping my eyes on the movement of her chest as she was sleeping. I made a promise to myself that nobody would ever have the chance to take her away from me.

The following day, I reached out to a lawyer who is also a friend. I needed to know what my possibilities were if the matter results in a legal battle. She did not say anything but just listened quietly to me, tears running down my face. When I finally finished, she told me, “You have an appealing case. You have been the only one taking care of the child from the time she was born. There will not be a court that would take a child from a mother who has demonstrated that she can take care of the child.”

I still, however, felt frightened. Ken was well off, and the Ghanaian legal system could be unpredictable. Sometimes, wealthy men misuse the legal system for their advantage. But I was also aware that I had something more powerful: the truth.

Several weeks later, Ken called again, and he said, “Let us not go there. If you want me to pay, just tell me. If I have to take a loan, I will do it just to have my daughter with me.” I replied to him, “My daughter is not for sale. Concentrate on your marriage.”

This was the very last occasion that I had a direct conversation with him. He says to others that I am the reason for the conflicts. My father’s extraordinary attempt to convince me to let my daughter live with him made me feel that he had been misled. He put me in the position of the problem as if I were stopping my daughter from fulfilling her destiny. But the very moment Sika comes running into my arms screaming, “Mummy!” I am assured that I am on the right path.

Ken might have played a part in her coming into this world, but it was me who went through the whole process of sleepless nights, fevers, school fees, and tears. If he is looking for a battle, I am ready for it. He may have money to waste, but I have more than that love and time for my daughter. The kind of love that makes me get up at 3 a.m. just to make sure she is alright. I don’t think anybody, not even Ken's wife or Ken himself, can love Sika this much.

—Juliet

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