He was the neighbor who was constantly using her towel anytime she was away from home. Weird, right? Yeah! And she intentionally chose to act like she was blind. She would act like she was deaf, just not to overreact. When she caught him using her towel finally, she did not respond dramatically. She was angry alright, but chose not to get so mad at him. She figured it was his way to probably provoke her to the bone…
Guess what? That was his best love language. Boi! -DBM
“Good evening, David Bondze,
Four (4) years ago I made a post on Facebook, asking anyone who had accommodation for rent to drop their contacts or the contacts of anyone else renting a room. I didn’t have the money to pay an advance of two years. I could only afford monthly payments, so I was hoping beyond hope to get such an arrangement. I got an inbox message from a Facebook friend I didn’t know personally. He had a spare Two (2) bedroom, fully furnished house to rent it by monthly payments. I thought it was a dream, because that didn’t happen in Ghana, ever.
The day we both agreed to meet to check the house out, he had a wedding band on his left finger – when he stepped out of his car. Just upon setting eyes on me, he licked his lower lip, and then, gently put his left hand inside his left pocket. The second he pulled out his hand, his wedding ring was off. He gave me a tour inside and around the house. I loved the place. There was enough space and I liked the environment the property was located. One other thing I can’t seem to forget is the used condom wrappers and rubbers in the washroom and inside the water closet, unflushed.
We agreed on amicable terms (to rent the place for two years) and it was good to go. I made payments for the first Three (3) months, and I moved in the following week. He visited me a few days that week to be sure I had settled in, and also didn’t have any problems with the place. The third week after I had moved in, he sent me a WhatsApp message, checking on me. The following day after that message, he sent me a picture of himself, smiling, and a ‘Good afternoon’ greeting. He started passing by my house after work (in the evenings) to check on me. I thought it was weird for a married man to be doing that, so I politely asked him to put a stop to it.
My late father used to tell me that, how a woman reacts/behaves under ‘crazy’ circumstances is critical for most men to know the real character undergirding a woman, the nature of who she is. Meaning, at my core, I must be a woman of character to get anyone’s attention.
My landlord frowned, I think, but I didn’t care. He, eventually, kicked me out of his house after my first three months, when I threatened to report him to the police – if he didn’t stop harassing me. So, I was back to square one.
I was in a Taxi, talking to my mother on phone, about my sudden ‘nightmare’. When we were done talking, an elderly lady, seated next to me, asked whether or not I had found a new place to rent. Apparently, she was listening in. I followed her to her destination to check her house out. It was a five bedroom mansion, with a two, two-bedroom separate quarters for rent. I showed interest in the first two bedroom, and managed to convince her into accepting monthly payments. I moved in that very week. Dave, I was so desperate, I didn’t have time to waste.
Two weeks after moving in, a very nice gentleman rented the other two bedroom apartment.
He and I shared a dry-line. We couldn’t really make friends that quickly because of our different work schedules. Something bizarre started happening, a few weeks after he had moved in. I usually would dry my towel on the line before leaving for work. It just happened that, anytime I was using my towel in the evenings, I would smell a strange scent in my towel, which wasn’t my body odor. I got scared, really, because if it wasn’t my smell, then it could only mean one thing: somebody was sharing my towel with me.
I tried overlooking it the first time. But it happened again, and again. I had a choice to stop drying the towel in the open, however, I’m the type that would be driven by curiosity under such situations. I intentionally missed work one time to put an end to that madness. I stayed indoors after drying my towel, and guess who showed up hours after timing the perpetrator?
My new neighbor. I watched him take my towel, smell it, wrap it around his neck, and then was about to enter his room with it, when I came out of my door. We were both surprised. We both hadn’t gone to work. He looked guilty and couldn’t hide his guilt. I listened to his embarrassing explanation with curiosity, and spoke to him honestly. I wasn’t listening to his reasons with the intent to reply. I was listening mainly for what was behind his words.
He liked me, and didn’t know how to tell me. He used the towel excuse to get my attention. At least, that was his claim. As a young woman, who isn’t perfect, I tried to understand the balance between his truth and my feelings. I tried not to be an impermeable neighbor, nor did I choose to disrespect him in any way. I may have been offended, one way or the other, but I ultimately allowed the truth of Christ to control, define, and settle me. Don’t get me wrong, I was pissed but couldn’t lose my temper. I chose not to. I forgave him, and asked him to keep the towel. The following morning, he had bought a dozen set of new towels for me.
Let me quickly fast-forward and come back to the story: My husband, up till date, still uses my old towel to bath. I don’t know how he does it, but he maintains it so well.
Back to my story: I accepted the towels, and even shared it with him. Over the weeks, I observed him having a tender heart towards God and me, especially when he was wrong. I started to take notice of a lot of things about him: His humility for a start. Dave, humility transforms a man’s heart. He was always learning about something. Always asking for my opinions on different issues. Seriously, it was through him that I realized that, a teachable man will always be growing, changing, maturing, and interesting to any woman. I began to like him.
Five months after living in the same compound with him, I returned home one evening to find all of my belongings, moved, gone; missing. It couldn’t have been a robbery, because the doors and windows were still intact. Someone had an extra key to my apartment. I got scared and was about to call my neighbor, when I heard the main door to the main mansion, open. He wasn’t a tenant. Neither was he my neighbor. He owned the house, Dave. His mother was the elderly woman I sat in the Taxi with.
Since that day, I have been treating everyone I meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. I extend to them all the care, kindness and understanding I can muster, and I do it with no thought of any reward. My life has never been the same again. My husband moved my belongings to the main house, gave me a set of keys to the whole house, and then asked me to use my monthly rent payments to be paying the utility bills. He was traveling outside of Ghana, to pursue his PhD, and needed someone he could trust to maintain his home. His mother was attending to his sick dad, in the village, and couldn’t move in to his house.
At the airport, before boarding the plane, he kissed me for the first time, for the longest minutes. He asked me to marry him, and couldn’t wait for a response. He left, smiling, leaving me utterly confused, and mesmerized.
My husband is very good looking. He being handsome was a good start, but character was the measuring stick of me being worthy of his time and pursuit. I have been intentional about building my own character and was diligent in my search to find a man whose character resembles Christ’s. I found all of that, if not more, in my husband.” – From A Odame