Don’t Marry The Guy You Are Dating

I spent the new year’s eve in the Northern Region in 2015 or 2016 with a friend. I’d spent all my life in southern Ghana and needed to experience how it felt like to be in the north. I spent Christmas there. We were in a Muslim community so Christmas didn’t mean much, except for the few pockets of Christians in the community. Christmas passed me by slowly without noticing it. On New Year’s Eve, my friend asked me to go to church with her.

I asked, “You have a church here? In this community where I see only Muslims?”

She told me about a prophet who has a small church down the corner where people without Christian faith can go for prophecy.

Hearing the word “Prophet” made me decide not to go. For some reason, I felt most prophets were liars and only preyed on people’s minds, especially those who don’t have minds of their own. My friend insisted, “You need to experience this man. He’s different. He dines with God and plays hide and seek with angels.”

I finally decided to go. Not because of what she said but because I knew going to church would make her happy.

The church was flooded with all manner of people. The prophet, a tall unassuming man was seated on a seat that was intentionally placed at a higher ground so everyone in the church would be beneath him. It was electric, the things that happened that night. The dance, the drumming, the singing, the clapping. I love music so I dipped myself in the worship and let myself go with the music and drums.

When the prophet descended, he came with a prophecy. He mentioned a name. He said in the spirit, that person was being afflicted with diseases from her father’s house. Someone screamed from behind the congregation, “Prophet, I’m the one.” The people started shouting and singing and jubilating. He prayed for the woman and said good things to her. He said, “I’m sowing a new seed in you. Fruits will come in abundance. You’ll prosper.”

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He did that for over an hour until he got to where I was seated with my friend. He looked straight into my eyes and said, “You don’t belong here. You come from the city, right?” I nodded. He held my hand and pulled me forward to the centre of the church. He told me God had given him a message for me. I nodded. I looked at my friend. She was smiling, probably happy that the prophet was going to prophesy to me.

He said, “There’s a man in your life. You’ve dated him for a very long time. God says I should tell you not to marry him.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asked me. I nodded. He asked, “Are you having trouble with him? Does he cheat? Does he beat you? Does he provide?” I answered, “He’s good to me. He hasn’t done a lot of wrongs since we started dating.” He said, “Don’t marry him. God was specific. He asked me to tell you not to marry your boyfriend. The future won’t look bright if you do.”

A year later, I married my boyfriend but I didn’t forget the voice of the prophet and what he said. Even the moment I was exchanging vows with him, the prophet’s voice kept echoing in my head, “Don’t marry your boyfriend. The future won’t be bright.”

I wasn’t scared but voices of dissent have a way of searing our subconscious mind, playing themselves out once in a while. The fact that I’m writing about it today means the voice keeps playing in my head.

My friend asked me to listen to the prophet. She was my maid of honor and was happy for me but the prophecy was in her mind too. I told her, “There’s a reason God kept the future out of our knowledge. We’ll all die one day but we don’t know when. That’s the beauty of life. Not knowing is beautiful. I will go through my marriage as if I don’t know anything. I want to see that future however dim it is and see how much light I and my husband can shine into our future. Let’s see.”

When we were struggling to have a child, I remembered the voice of the prophet and I smiled. “Is that what he meant when he said the future won’t be bright?”

When I had serious complications during pregnancy and nearly died in the labour ward, I remembered the prophet’s voice.

Whenever my child fell seriously sick and we were at the hospital, I remembered the prophet’s voice.

When my husband lost his job, the prophet’s voice came to me. While my husband was struggling to get a job after two years of being unemployed, I fell seriously sick and our son fell from his bed and broke his neck. One disaster after another made me feel the prophet was right. “I shouldn’t have married this man. We are doomed.”

One evening, I called my friend and said, “Your prophet may be right. All is not well.”

My friend told me, “What you’re going through is nothing new. That’s how life is. We go through some troubles. We solve the troubles and another will come. That’s how life plays out. You’ll be fine. It “has nothing to do with the prophecy.”

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Since she told me this, we’ve gone ahead to have two more children. My husband is the director at where he works currently. I got a new job that pays well too because of my husband’s influence. We started a company together in 2018, just when things were picking up, Covid happened and it wiped off everything. We ran into a huge debt. When the prophet’s voice was about to come to mind, I hushed it. I told myself, “Life happened. It has nothing to do with the prophesy. Life is like that. We don’t usually have control over things.

—Fidelia 

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