WHEN THE HUNTER BECOMES THE HAUNTED

By Thabiso Khumalo

There is never a problem when a man is providing for his family, but there is pandemonium when it is the woman providing for the family.

A man will know no peace on any given Sunday, because his wife can just rub it in and make it known that she is providing, and she makes it a point to remind you every day that she is providing.

As men, this bruises our ego. We never expect circumstances to throw us into that place as hunters, but somehow some of us have found ourselves haunted by the choices we made.

I used to earn so much, and my family was well kept. My wife worked, but whatever she earned was hers, and I never bothered to ask how much she earned. All I did was add to that as the man of the house.

One day I returned home early and shared the life-changing news with my wife. She did not take it lightly, and already she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"Manje uzokwenzani?" (So how will you manage?)

It was then that I understood "in richness and in poverty." The vow hit so hard that I felt less of a man. Her words sounded casual, yet they were deep.

The day I woke up to her screaming over salt she had bought a week ago, I understood that it was going to be a long, bumpy ride.

With every second, she made sure to remind me that she was providing. She made sure to always let it be known. The children saw me as useless.

"Kuthiwa mami awulamali" (mom says you don't have money.)

Those words broke me. Every word my children told me was direct speech from their mother, and it hurt even more. My ego was bruised. I was scarred every day as they saw me as less of a father.

My wife saw me as less of a husband. I was merely a parasite to her, feeding off her hard-earned money. As a man, I felt useless. I was haunted by her words and actions every day.

I felt cold. My conjugal rights were denied, the respect was lost, and she often said, "You have to also be bringing something onto the table for me to be a table you can feed on." Haaaa, Melissa knew just how to corrode my heart.

I became someone I did not know. I became an imagination of my former self broken, beaten, washed off, egoless. I had lost everything and had nothing to lose. There was no fight left in me. Melissa did not want me even laying a finger on her.

She left, saying I was weak, lazy, and not man enough for her. Her departure left my world collapsed, and death felt like a better option. I tried to end my life three times and survived to face reality.

I would cry myself to sleep and get lost in my own thoughts. Life was meaningless. I could not even find work, and I could not even start work. I had nothing, and that is the picture that ate at me.

At my final low point, my dad gave me a lifetime lesson. He said, "Your mom left, but I never did. I stayed to look after you guys. This thing of you dining and romancing with death will not solve anything, Thabiso Khumalo!!" Then he walked out.

I cried, this time not from the pain of being left, but from realisation. It was not over yet and surviving was an awakening call.

I put my life in order and got back on track. I am healing now.

Men's mental health in Zimbabwe