Does She Need a Man ...? Part 3

Martei Markwei

I take a different approach today in attempting to extend the conversation started so ably last month by Lola and Nana Amma Twum-Baah. I set some thoughts in a parable as I write mainly, but not exclusively to unmarried Ghanaian ladies in the diaspora. I do so for a number of reasons. First, it simply isn’t impossible to catalogue all the challenges these ladies face in seeking spouses. Next, it would be inappropriate, even distasteful to attempt to codify remedies for the complex challenges, in trite remarks. I attempt to capture some of the very difficult choices and important challenges they may face in marrying late, in the parable that follows. In any case we many of us love stories. Even the Ananse ones were Ok in our time, though I’m not certain they are now. I do hope I prove a tolerable story teller, given what is at stake.


Tsotsoh is having the best of times in her workplace. She has been working in the same hospital since she qualified as a nurse and was certified in her preferred specialization. She’s enjoying the challenges that come with increased responsibility thoroughly. Tsotsoh radiates such energy when she enters the hospital building, you could be forgiven for assuming she was custom made for that place and none other. Although her field of practice is highly specialized, it still leaves her with sufficient opportunity to interact with many other colleagues in the hospital. And in those moments when she has a coffee break with her buddies Melissa, Francesca and Shokpe; when they take up, or better still commandeer a corner of the cafeteria, its another story altogether. The boys on the hospital staff know they must steer clear of that particular corner while those girls are at it! That gang of four can be brutal, when interrupted.


Tsotsoh is outstandingly competent in what she does for a living. Some might regard her as a well adjusted, accomplished, financially independent member of her chosen community in the diaspora. Mind you, she’s not the sought who turns heads when she enters a room. Her broad nose doesn’t exactly commend her face as a pretty one and she’s somewhat stockier than her pals; a thing she’s working at with all diligence to correct. But engage Tsotsoh on any issue of general interest from archeology to zoology and you’ll be a curious specimen to forget the owner of that face. And believe me, you wont even want to mention the trans-Atlantic slave trade, or ancient Maya history to anyone else, after a moment with her on those subjects. Tsotsoh loves to read. She read and reads just about anything edifying that will add to her competence, or understanding of those things that fascinate her. She likes to think that she responded well to her father’s curiosity and preference for lifelong learning, in her early years.


Tsotsoh’s husband Ekow differs on this fondness for everything book. He does recognize a ‘b’ positioned before an ‘a’, thank you, but he doesn’t care too much why the order matters; emm, sought of. He grew up fantasizing about cars and to this day, just can’t get over his fascination with those polluting chariots. He’s a natural both in handling and fixing everything automobile. That’s his comfort zone and he likes to carry on there.


Tsotsoh met Ekow during an outdooring ceremony for a mutual friend’s baby. Ekow had taken up the role of court jest; emm, MC during the ceremony and was he funny? Tsotsoh decided she’d had enough in the middle of it all, when she almost choked on a potato chip because of his frolics. Ekow was especially differential towards her as she rose to join the gang in the kitchen and that did it. If he was that funny and could behave courteously towards a woman, why not get to know him better? One could always do with a laugh. And so they met again and spoke often on phone and met some more, which all worked to Ekow’s advantage and heaven’s gain, in Tsotsoh’s mind.


She had to be particularly generous in marking heaven’s scorecard on this match, initially. While he was a good entertainer and gracious towards her, she soon realized there weren’t very many things she could engage him on in serious conversation. That troubled her. And then there was no denying that she was three years older, better endowed financially and more socially engaged. It disturbed her that he seemed indifferent to opportunities to improve himself and his idea of a night out was to go to the movies. That’s right; the movies, not the theatre. Oh dear, she’d think, how would she present him to her family and friends and professional colleagues without offering him as a lamb for the slaughter?

During those early days Tsotsoh would sometimes despair over the prospects for their relationship, but she remained respectful and was never dismissive of Ekow. To her way of thinking, he’d still make a good ambassador and convey a good report of her to others, if their relationship didn’t come to anything. Therefore she was careful not to humiliate him and as time went on, it dawned on her that she had become somewhat protective of him also. She chose their company carefully, always making certain that there would be no opportunity for others around them to make him feel ‘small’. And if any dared to overstep the boundaries of civility, you could rely on Tsotsoh’s tongue to straighten them out quickly. She wasn’t a member of that gang of four for naught!


In time, Tsotsoh decided. She recorded a very generous mark in heaven’s scorecard and proceeded to roll the dice (you know; what some refer to as acting on one’s faith). She invited Ekow to dine with her one Saturday evening and when they were done and he was on to his usual frivolity, she rose, walked rather elegantly to her balcony and invited him to join her there. Ekow knew that something had changed, but poor soul; his mind headed eastwards, as if that’s where the sun sets. Oh, men. So when Tsotsoh spoke with that combination of delicacy and gravity about how she was getting on in years and wanted her own child and didn’t know exactly what his intentions were; when she seemed to look longingly in the eyes as if to read the content of his soul; as she inclined her head sideways ever so slightly while she spoke, to let her hair hang freely, he swallowed it all; lock, stock and barrel.


Tsotsoh didn’t come to the decision lightly at all. How would she manage the conspicuous differences between them? The age difference was the easy part. Her plastic surgeon and beautician had done such tremendous work on and with her, that you needed to know Ekow and herself very well to tell who was younger. Tsotsoh’s rather firm evangelical Christian beliefs didn’t prevent her from taking advantage of limited surgical interventions to enhance her looks. To her way of thinking, she was simply tending her own part of the garden. She didn’t exactly go for the extreme makeover, but you knew something had changed about Tsotsoh, if you hadn’t seen her in a while. And if you cared and dared to ask, she was confident enough to tell you about her adventures in cosmetic surgery and consultations with Bea the Beautician. The interventions cost a bundle, but she didn’t care. She preferred to feel good about her image, rather than squander her earnings on some other pursuit. It was her choice. Bea was absolutely adorable. Tsotsoh drew her into a shopping trip every now and then, to take advantage of her choice of style and colour. And then there was the physical trainer in the gym, who kept her from breaking the bathroom scale. Of course, when the bills would come in each month; including the loan repayment for the surgery, Tsotsoh would comfort herself with the thought that she was buying into a better quality of life and longer years of vitality and wasn’t spending more than she needed to on food. Nothing valuable comes cheap.


No, the age difference with Ekow didn’t bother Tsotsoh much. What did engage her mind during the quieter moments of her day was the dread of having to drastically redefine her relationships to ensure that she minimized the risk of Ekow walking away, because he felt insignificant by her side. She didn’t exactly want some sissy hanging around her and thankfully, Ekow wasn’t one, but the conspicuous differences in their lifestyles could make him feel insecure and she couldn’t tell how he would cope with that.


Well, first she had to deal with Ekow’s acceptance, or otherwise by her father back home in Ghana. Nii Kwablah had some pretty fixed opinions about marriage. He was justifiably proud of his daughter and had taught her many of the ideals which guided her decisions. It was he who settled her thoughts on the matter of sleeping around, for example. “Whoever wants to marry the village slut”, he asked. “There’ll be no end to the mockery he’ll suffer at the hands of other men in the village”. “Yes, if you live in a country that straddles a continent, like Australia, or the US, or Canada, you can leave a city on the east coast and go off to be a virgin all over again on the west coast, but in a small village like the UK, word gets around”. “I certainly wouldn’t want other men to be too familiar with my wife”. “By all means be liberated, but why exchange your dignity for crassness?” And on and on. In time, she’d simply interrupt by saying, “Daddy, I know”.


By those same ideals he taught her though, she knew she had a war ahead of her and might need a WMD, no matter what the conventions crafted by boys dictated. Subsequent events confirmed her fears. Nii Kwablah seemed to have difficulty even remembering Ekow’s name, which was uncharacteristic of him. When all other efforts proved futile, as Tsotsoh thought they would, she decided she’d had enough of the lonely nights, so she sought out her WMD. She called up her maternal Uncle Kweku in Kumasi at dawn and tearfully begged him to inform her father that she’d be all too happy to marry Nii Kwablah as his second wife, if only he would have the grace to propose to her. No one told Tsotsoh how the conversation went between the two men after her call. She did observe though, that Nii Kwablah backed off from his objections soon after the call and seemed intent on mending fences. Tsotsoh’s mother never got over her displeasure at Kweku’s intervention. Oh well, there would be casualties in a war like this one and there were many. You see, Tsotsoh understands that friends are chosen by self and relations are mandated by nature. Needless to say, the casualties in the first category would be especially heavy. She’d have to exclude quite a number of her friends from her new world order, because of attitude. As for her relations, she was especially thankful that she didn’t live among them. She looked forward to meeting them by herself each time she’d visit Ghana; always, with the excuse that Ekow couldn’t get away from his work.

There would be places they could visit together and others to avoid, in bonding with Ekow and the nagging question remained. Will it all have been worthwhile in the end, or does marriage indeed fade to leave relations as residue? Its good to say that Tsotsoh’s wasn’t exactly a free fall into love for Ekow, neither was her love exactly blind; she was too old for that. She kept her eyes open, but that also meant more tossing in bed and more Tylenol pills to ward off migraine headaches.


Tsotsoh and Ekow sought the help of a marriage counselor at her behest, as they prepared for marriage. Their counselors were a married couple who happened to be Christian also and were clinical psychologists (both facts important to Tsotsoh). They came highly recommended by her friend Melissa, whose cousin Linda had used their services two years ago. The Gostains weren’t African; in fact, they hadn’t the foggiest idea where Ghana was on the globe, but Tsotsoh and then Ekow were sold on this one thing; they knew and understood what it took to build and maintain a trusting, mutual bond in marriage. Tsotsoh and Ekow learnt so much from and grew so comfortable with their counselors that they decided to maintain them as ‘marriage coaches’. They would express their thoughts and feelings without inhibition to the Gostains and neither of them felt at all inclined to be judgemental towards the other, or defensive. Every now and then, their counselors would draw Tsotsoh and Ekow’s attention to a book on marriage which was authored by a credible source. Tsotsoh could be relied on to buy the book and read to Ekow, or attempt to, at bedtime. It was the only way she could be sure he paid attention to the content and though he’d interrupt her reading with his snores after a short while, she’d be sure to continue the next day. Tsotsoh felt especially good about their relationship with the Gostains; it offered her professional guidance into the marriage institution and she cherished that.


Seven years after the grand duel between them, Nii Kwablah and Uncle Kweku would make an unannounced trip to the US to meet Ekow. They both had such fondness for Tsotsoh and it was mystifying and somewhat annoying to them that they hadn’t met the father of her two lovely daughters. Even then Tsotsoh’s mother still held on to her grudge against her brother.


(PS from MOM: I’ve had my say on this matter, with this piece. I had hoped to engage our men folk in a very direct way beyond this, and then air some thoughts on what our society ought to do to improve the prospects of unmarried, upwardly mobile Ghanaians in the diaspora meeting and bonding with each other. However my feet have begun to feel a little too heavy for my liking, since I stepped into the public square on the matter. Its time to let go. Let me mention though, that I read some very edifying postings last weekend from respondents to my second piece. I couldn’t respond to all of them, but I deeply appreciate the efforts of those who extended the conversation, each with a unique touch).