He no longer believes in their relationship. He’s taken his bag and fled. No word. Not even a goodbye.

She’s heard he is in Togo. She stands in church today, a microphone in hand, in tears. Testimony time. Let her enemies know that despite the efforts to kill her joy, she will still smile, even though she’s in tears now.

Her brother sits in the first row. He walks out to weep. Can’t stand seeing her sister in shame, in tears – their family rags are being washed for all to see that they too have dirty things at home.

Church members can no longer stare her in the face. As if an offering bowl went round for contributions, each one donates a generous amount of tears for their sister in Christ.

The Lord gives. The Lord takes. And the Lord has taken her lover across the border -from Abidjan to Togo. He’s a jealous God, they say. Maybe she’s too committed to her husband than the Lord. Maybe her marriage will take her to hell.

Maybe a better husband is coming her way. Maybe she didn’t give her best as a wife, to her children, her husband…maybe she didn’t satisfy him enough in food…in bed…she doesn’t know- maybe it’s all her fault.

The blank space his absence has left, she’s filling in with the best explanations she can. If he ever comes back, she’ll do better. She will do her best. If she’s a slave, she’ll be a more submissive one this time round.

Ability is sexless. Hers is in skirt and blouse, everyday in the kitchen, with a name tag: housewife. But she won’t complain. She wants a man in her life. And a ring on her finger. Call it a chain on her waist, jumping about like all the other monkeys in marriage do. Her life, her business. She wants a man in her life.

“Santo, wherever you are, please come back.” And with these words, she ended her testimony in church, leaving her case in the hand of the Almighty God, Maker of the Universe and the Unmaker of her husband’s folly.