Love is not for women like us

“Love is not for women like us Chipo”, Gogo told her. “It is a luxury we cannot afford. What good is love in a marriage? Will it feed you? Of course not! Where we come from women like us marry the man who chooses us, the one who can take care of us. You are lucky that man has chosen you, he is well-to-do and he will provide you with a home. That is all you need as a woman, not the nonsense you call love. In return, you must respect him and bear him children, especially sons to carry his name.”

Those were the last words gogo spoke to Chipo before she left for her new husband’s home. Karikoga, her new husband was a large man with an imposing figure. By the standards of their neighbourhood, he was wealthy, he owned the local grocery and bottle store. He was old enough to be her father and Chipo couldn’t stand him. His brown, tobacco-stained teeth nauseated her and his loud, booming voice made her grit her teeth. How could she be expected to live with such a man and call him husband.

Their union was one she had not agreed to. She was simply told that the man had asked her family for her hand in marriage, and they had agreed on her behalf. They had accepted his bride price and now she had to live with him. Karikoga already had a wife, Hazvinei, but she had failed to bear him children. That’s why he wanted a younger wife, someone “fresh,” someone who could give him sons. His name could not be forgotten.

Whenever she had imagined getting married, it had always been to a man she loved and one who loved her equally. Not one who saw her simply as a child-bearing machine and used his social standing and her family’s poverty to trap her. Polygamy had been out of the question too, but here she was. Since the death of her parents, she and her younger siblings had lived with their aging grandmother. Gogo struggled to feed them, and as the eldest, Chipo was expected to shoulder the burden. Marriage to Karikoga was seen as the solution. He even promised to pay her siblings’ school fees.

Her marriage to Karikoga was far from blissful, he had a quick temper and became violent. Both Chipo and her sister wife, Hazvinei lived in constant fear of this man. They were happiest when he was away because his presence brought chaos, his anger knew no bounds. He would attack both women, accusing them of witchcraft, claiming they were both eating their babies, hence the barrenness. This insult deeply hurt Hazvinei who had no children. Culturally, fertility was considered as the ultimate proof of womanhood, she felt like a failure.

Chipo on the other hand was not moved by the insults. In actual fact, she hoped not to get pregnant. A child would tie her to Karikoga and she still fantasized about leaving him. Rumours had it that before Hazvinei and Chipo, there had been another woman Karikoga had lived with for a few years and she too had failed to bear him children.

Three years passed and peace was a rare visitor in their household. Through their shared trauma, Chipo and Hazvinei formed an unlikely sisterhood, unusual for sister wives. There was no rivalry between them, only mutual protection from Karikoga. As his drinking got worse, so did the abuse and he became a complete nuisance. One afternoon, while preparing lunch, Hazvinei looked at Chipo and said, “You are still young. You have a life ahead of you. Don’t let this man derail it. Unlike me, you can still start over. Please think of an exit plan.”

Though Chipo had often dreamed of escape, she had never spoken of it to Hazvinei. Divorce was heavily frowned upon in their community, but Hazvinei’s words gave her courage. The misery of staying outweighed the stigma of leaving. She thought of her siblings and what they would lose if she left, but she could no longer sacrifice herself. She had to choose herself.

She had been saving money from the small allowance Karikoga gave her. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Enough to start a small business, perhaps. Quietly, she packed a small bag, took one last look at Karikoga’s house, and walked away.

For the first time in her life, she felt hopeful, hopeful that she would get the chance to live for herself. Deep down, she still believed she might one day meet a man who loved her as much as she loved him. And this time, she would marry for love, not duty. She deserved that much.