My Husband Earns Ten Times My Salary, But Still Wants Me To Contribute Equally

When we met, we were both unemployed and had nothing to our names. He said he loved me. It was the only thing he could afford: love. I said yes because I saw a man who was trying in him. Before I said yes to his proposal, he tried his best to impress me. He would take me to an eatery, knowing very well that I liked food. He would buy me phone credit or send a little mobile money to my account.

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Everyone loves a giving man, and it was those little things that made me say yes to him. Because he gave, I also learned to give. When he took me to an eatery and I had money, I paid. When we sat in a *trotro* to any place, I paid the fare. We were matching each other in giving. We understood our situation in life and felt supporting each other was the best way to go.

He got his first job when our relationship was two years old. It didn’t pay much, but it was a step away from the grass, so we celebrated. For a whole week, we were in a celebratory mood. When his first salary came, he said, “How much do you want? Where do you want to go? Mention the name of the wine you want to drink to pacify your soul, and daddy is here to provide.”

He said this with the swag of a peacock flexing the colors of its tail. We ended up at the same eatery. That day, he talked about marriage for the first time: “If everything goes the way it’s currently going, we should get married next year. I would have saved enough.”

Not long afterwards, I also landed a job. He asked, “What are we waiting for? Let’s get married already.” I answered, “I’m ready tomorrow. What church should I meet you in?”

Months later, I wore a beautiful wedding dress he had bought with his money and walked down the aisle with him. I counted myself lucky because I was marrying a friend, someone I found when we were both on the floor, yet who didn’t give up on us.

Six years into marriage and with two kids later, everything has changed for the worst. My husband is not the man I married, that man I met in the dark soil and sprouted with. He has stopped doing the little things we were both known for doing, though his situation in life is buoyant.

I’ve maintained the same job over the years because it’s flexible and it allows me to be able to take care of the kids. It’s the kind of job where I can call my boss today and say, “I can’t come to work because my child is sick,” and he would give me the day off without any restrictions. I can afford to go in late and leave early in the name of the kids, and they would allow it. With the flexibility comes a low salary, but I’m still with them because of the kids.

On the other hand, my husband has been able to change jobs and climb up the salary rank. Two years ago, his salary was almost GHC20,000, but guess what? He gives me nothing and yet expects me to support the home with my meager salary. He buys beautiful things for himself and leaves us out. You should see the car he drives, the clothes he wears, and the places he goes.

When I complain, he tells me, “Everybody in my family relies on me, so how can I have enough for us?”

He takes care of his two younger siblings in school. He sends good money to his parents while he leaves us out. I’m not saying he shouldn’t do that for his family. I’m saying we are also his family. He can do something for us too.

He’ll pay school fees today and expect me to pay them next term. I would take the kids to the hospital and call for assistance, and he would ask me, “Are you also not their parent?” “Yes, I am their parent, but not the parent with a lot of money.”

He wouldn’t understand. He would come home and complain as if I’d murdered one of the kids. “If you think you can’t take care of them, leave them for me so I know I’m the only parent in their lives.”

So I asked, “What changed? Even when we had nothing, you gave from the little you had, so what changed? Or you no longer love me the way you used to?”

He said love is for kids, and where we are, it’s not love we should think of, but how to feed and raise a family. That doesn’t bother me, his definition of love. If he helped raise the kids and helped us to feed, to me, that would have meant love at its best. They call him from home, and the next minute he calls back and asks, “Have you received the money?” By this time, his family thinks I’m the one spending most of his money, but look at me.

The other time he told me I should change jobs if they don’t pay well. I said, “No problem, I will start chasing money. You don’t have a better certificate than I have. I put my dreams on the side for flexibility’s sake, but look at me in the years to come.”

I’ve decided to send the kids to my mom when I get the new job. If he protests, I will ask him to hire a nanny to take care of them in our absence. I would bury myself in my job just like he does, and then he would know money doesn’t make the family go round, but presence and care that make the family thick.

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I don’t wish him bad. It’s his money, and he chooses how to spend it. I hope he doesn’t complain when I start making mine and start calling the shots in my life. I hope he doesn’t come screaming, “I’m the man of the house,” because I gave him the opportunity to be the man and he failed. I love him. I watch him and want him to just see the man he’s become and change, but to him, I should be my own woman rather than being his wife. Time will tell.

—Jane

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