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 My Husband Hasn’t Eaten My Food For Nine Years Now Because Of This



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When we got married ten years ago, we were full of hopes and dreams for our lives together. We mapped out the way we would raise our family. Two kids. That’s what we agreed to. We had moved into a rented apartment right after the honeymoon. It wasn’t a fancy place but it fit into our budget.

Let’s manage this place until we build our house,” we discussed. We had it all figured out. There were stories of people close to us who had unhappy marriages. We knew them. We saw their challenges. And marked every single one of them down while promising each other, “No matter what happens, we will work through our problems.

We will never be one of those couples with bad marriages.” I am sure whatever powers be, heard our plans and smiled in amusement. It didn’t take long before we conceived our first child. Kuku remained the doting man I married. I was in marital bliss for the most part of the pregnancy. He didn’t want me to stress myself too much.

The moment he saw me doing chores, he would quickly come and take over. If I objected he would say, “I know you can do it but allow me to handle it for you.” That always got me to let go. During the latter stages of the pregnancy, we discussed what we would do if the baby came.


We were too young and inexperienced to handle the care of a newborn all on our own. It seemed ideal to enlist the help of our mothers. The obvious choice was my mother. So I packed up a few things and went to live with her.

That was what we agreed to. The first few weeks I was with my mum, he kept in touch. He sent money for upkeep when he was supposed to. Everything was fine until it all ceased. He became distant. He stopped sending us pocket money as well. By then the baby had arrived. My mother was holding the fort while I waited patiently for his provision. It didn’t come. This made me feel bad.

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My mother didn’t complain but I didn’t like it that she was carrying the burden of all our expenses. With time I finally got hold of my elusive husband. “We don’t hear from you these days. We haven’t received money from you either. What’s going on?” This man answered, “I am sorry dear.

I have been working on our building. That’s what is taking all my time and money.” The explanation didn’t make sense to me, yet I accepted it. Later I found out that he was lying. I didn’t want to get into it with him over money. I felt the best thing to do was to get his father to advise him to stop shirking his responsibilities.


That was the beginning of this mess I now call a marriage. Kuku got angry and threw hurtful words at me for reporting him to his father. It was unlike him. I tried to have a conversation about the issue but he shut me out. He didn’t talk to me until the baby and I moved back home. Could you believe that even when we returned, he refused to let go of the issue? He only spoke to me when he was in the mood to.

I would cook and serve him but he would tell me, “I am satisfied. I ate outside before coming home.” I believed eventually he would come around but his behavior went on for months. In time, it came to my attention that a woman who lived opposite our house was the one feeding him. So I went to her and asked her to stop giving my husband food. I thought it would bring him back to me but it only drove him further away.

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He still insisted on eating out rather than eating the home-cooked meals I made for him. I was sad but not without hope. Because on his good days, he would act nice and sweet. That’s how I ended up getting pregnant with our second child. Once again, I thought the news of the new life growing inside me would fix things but it rather broke what was already cracked.

Kuku said the baby was not his. So he didn’t offer me a pesewa to take care of myself during this period. Not even money for antenatal bills. He watched me do it all alone. By then our firstborn was almost four years old. The house we were living in was about to undergo some renovations. Which means we had to move out.


My husband left us and went off to God knows where. My only other option was to move in with my mother. I didn’t tell him about my plans. I just left with our son and a few belongings. He never called to ask how we were doing or where we left to.

I was the one who got tired of waiting and called to inform him of our whereabouts. The only time he showed up was when I delivered the second baby and needed him to pay the hospital bills. A few months after delivery, he rented another apartment and came for us. I assumed this meant he was ready for us to work on our marriage.

But I was once again left feeling foolish for hoping. We live together but we are practically strangers now. He goes and comes as he pleases. If I try to be a concerned wife, he insults me. Sometimes he uses music to throw shades at me. We ran into each other in town a few times, and he walked past me.

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I used to ask his sister and mother to talk to him but now they take his side. He gives his sister money so I don’t blame her for choosing her comfort over my happiness in the marriage. It’s his mother I don’t understand. She treats me like an outcast. I attended a family wedding recently. My mother-in-law saw me and looked away.

No hello. No “How are my grandchildren doing?” It was as if I was invisible to her. This is how far things have gotten. Our second child is currently five years old while the first one is nine. That’s how long this issue has dragged on.

Because of my strong beliefs, divorce is not on the table for me. What I want is a solution to this cold war that has gone on for years. Are there women here who have experienced this kind of challenge in your marriage? I want to know how you overcame it. O

r at least, how did you cope when you chose to stay in the marriage? I want to do anything but divorce him so I am open to every single suggestion you give me. We promised we would have a good marriage but look at us now. Please, help a sister out. —

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