Deep Regrets: A Bird In Hand Is Worth Two In The Bush

He was consistent and trustworthy. But I had set my sights on two birds in the bush. I lost sight that I had a bird in hand already.

Sefa kept up his showmanship. He showed up evening after evening in my mother’s house, always dressed to the nines. His favorite thing to wear were linens. Linens of all colors, sea blue, pale pink, faded purple, you name it. His facial hair was always trimmed to perfection as was his hair. And he wore the most gorgeous leather slippers. That was his staple dress code; linens combined to perfection, leather slippers and a fresh cut. Oh and his irresistible perfumes.

He would sit with my mother and talk and laugh for hours. I think my Mama was more in love with him than I ever will be. And he saw that, so he recruited her to do his work for him. My mum piled on the pressure while Sefa dazzled me with the finer things of life. He started taking me along on his outings with his friends on Friday nights at Golden Tulip. Sefa is eighteen years older than me, a silver fox, he knew exactly how to get me to swoon under constant attention and flattery. His friends were just like him, birds of a feather, so they hyped me up with ‘Ohemaa’, ‘Empress’, ‘Our Wife’ and what have you.

Looking back I believe my mom let Sefa in on Randy and I, because Sefa began showing up at my job to give me rides home. And my mom knew Randy and I always met after I closed for the day, so she removed that daily contact by planting Sefa in that time.

I began to get accustomed to the lifestyle Sefa introduced me to. A weekend getaway in Sunyani, parties at a friend’s mansion on the Kwahu mountains, a weekend in Accra, Otumfuo’s golf tournament and so on. I was always the young, beautiful girl in the group and his friends lavished me with attention.

Sefa being older and more experienced in life, he knew how to play me into the palm of his hand. He did all the things a girl would want, but he did it just to get me, not because he loved to. And I fell for it hard!

Randy found out about Sefa eventually. And when he asked me, I lied through my teeth and put it all on my Mama. “Mama is making me go see him,” I said.

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. I was seeing Sefa because my Mama wanted me to, and also because I wanted to.

One Friday night, I sat with Sefa and some of his friends by the pool at Golden Tulip, Kumasi. He had his left arm around me and I was leaning into him, while he fed me chicken fingers.

When I lifted my head, over at the other side of the pool stood Randy, our eyes locked for a moment, he shook his head sadly, put his hands in his pocket and turned to walk away. His slumped shoulders and the defeat it signified haunts me to this day. My bird in hand flew away.

I was four months pregnant when I became Mrs. Sefa. It was the happiest day of my mother’s life.

The thing about life is you don’t know what you don’t know, that is until someone shows you, or teaches you. And then when you know, or you experience that thing, you can’t unknow it.

When you experience love with intentionality, respect, and physical attraction, the type that spins your head and melts your heart, it is hard to accept anything mediocre. I thought I could replicate Randy and I with Sefa and I. It was a horrible, horrible lie.

Randy is careful, consistent and honest. My husband is flippant, nonchalant and a liar. Sefa told me he was divorced, his wife and son lived in the USA, and he had returned home to rebuild his life after the divorce.

Well, he was divorced alright. But he had four sons. And he hadn’t returned home to rebuild his broken heart, he was deported. Turns out he was a  car thief, he stole and shipped luxury cars to Ghana to sell. And he was caught, imprisoned, and after serving his sentence, deported. His ex wife divorced and replaced him while he was in prison. 

And I found all this out after he showed me his inconsistencies in our marriage. And no, he didn’t tell me, I googled him. Yep, I finally had the sense to do some research. And who researches a man after she’s married him? Well, me. I guess the greed and need for social climbing finally departed from my heart.

He had been smart with his money, so while in prison, his brother had kept his car business going and safeguarded his money and property.

I cannot say I am hungry. I have enough money and possessions. But I am lonely, alone in a marriage I should have said no to. Sefa is rarely ever home. Remember all those parties he used to take me to, he still attends them, the difference is I am not invited to tag along anymore. And even if I were invited, I have two young children who need me. 

And if he is ever home, he is never present, not emotionally, ever. Sefa thinks about one person and one person only, himself. He makes decisions that benefit him alone, rarely ever helps with our children, disrespects me any which way he wants and does not feel he owes any accountability at all to me. His favorite thing to say to me is, “You think you’re my age mate.”

The thing that hurts my heart the most is how careless he is with our children’s emotions. I guess when a man loves you he will love your children, and when he doesn’t, it affects your children too. I hurt on my children’s behalf when I think of Randy. I feel I have deprived them a great father.

When I had our second child, I left our matrimonial home to go live with my mom for a while. While there, Sefa sold our home and moved into a smaller house he had rented out. And he only told me after the fact. He said he needed the money to boost his business. He was visiting me and the children at my mother’s place when he told me this, and an argument ensued. I had no problem with him selling the house to boost his business, but I felt disrespected to have been left in the dark about it. And so we argued.

My mom chipped in, and told him he was wrong. He looked at her and said, “You are of the mistaken view that I am one of your daughters, to be sold to the highest bidder. You better know how to speak to me.”

For the first time in my life, I saw my Mama lost for words. Dumbfounded.

I was once told by my gynecologist that I had chlamydia. When I confronted my husband, his response was a nonchalant, “I need to be consistent with the use of condoms then. Some of these girls are just so unfaithful.”

When I try to divorce him, this man will summon me before every chief in Asanteman to counsel me. I am trapped. And tired. My only joy in life now are my children and my career. I have moved up in my career, I am now a regional manager for my company. I make enough to not need anyone’s money. What I need and crave is love, the one I had with Randy.

In 2018, I traveled to attend a conference in South Africa. I knew Randy was there, because I stalk him on social media. His business never picked up in Ghana so he joined forces with some friends he knew in South Africa, and he is doing well in the Southern African and Eastern African market.

I used a fake account to request a viewing of his gallery. When I showed up, he was shocked. And when the shock wore off, we talked. And I rendered a long overdue apology. He forgave me, he had moved on. He showed me his pictures of his Namibian wife and his son. She was a beauty, a tall woman with almond eyes and a chiseled jaw. I think Randy has a type, except his wife is a jet black beauty and I am a confused caramel chocolate.

We talked and talked like old times. He was his usual gentlemanly self, except this time he was even more mature and sure of himself. A flood of all my buried feelings came rushing in. I missed him, his aura, our friendship and the love we once had. I stole longing glances at him, and everytime he caught my eye, he’d say, “Stop it.”

At the end of that evening, he drove me to my hotel. I invited him to my hotel room, “Randy come in please,” I said.

“No. Gifty. I will not. We both know what will happen if I do, and I cannot do that to my wife and son,” He said. Then he got out of his car and opened my door.

“A hug then?” I asked, on the verge of tears.

“No, Gift, let’s not do that either,” He replied.

When I went inside my hotel room, I wept. I wanted something to hang on to, even if fleeting. I was lovesick and needed a fix. I needed a fix to carry me through the next however many years of marriage to Sefa. But I should have recognized the caliber of person Randy is, and not tried that nonsense. And it made it more apparent what a gem I had lost. I traded in a valuable bird in my hand for a  seagull, except it wasn’t a seagull at all, it was and still is trash.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself, or my marriage. And I don’t know why it took me this long to want to take control of my own life or even to say no to my mother.

What I do know though is that my karma for breaking a good man’s heart is the dog I ended up with.

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