Courtship and Marriage: The Somali Experience in America (Part 9)

This is the ninth article in a 10-part series about true stories of Somali men and women and their very blunt assessment of their relationships. The names and locations of the individuals have been changed to ensure their privacy.

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Cold As Ice

Apathy.

That is indeed the number one killer of marriage, both silent and deadly. Moreover, apathy is really a two-way street and also contagious.

My five-year-old marriage is now suffering from apathy after years of happiness and contentment. I want to save it but my wife apparently has no interest in salvaging it. She is, to put it mildly, uninterested and indifferent. I am utterly puzzled because when I first met her I was immediately entranced with her grace and charm. She was attentive and witty. Everything about her exuded sophistication.  She used to spend hours talking to me and laughing at my silly jokes. 

In the beginning of our marriage, our love for each other was on display for all to see. My wife was everything I had dreamed of: passionate, caring, engaging, and altruistic. Then, several months ago, my wife became withdrawn. She is a person who openly projects strength and confidence while underneath she is wracked by doubts.  Her mood swings, frequent tantrums, and occasional outbursts conceal her vulnerability and insecurity. Suddenly, she appeared depressed and changed her attitude toward everybody in the family. She does not sleep enough now, has become cantankerous and critical, cagey and secretive, preoccupied, always defensive, and indeed fixated on perfection and control. Furthermore, she is now unaffectionate. She constantly dwells on little things and I have to walk on eggshells when I am around her.  She has a habit on putting on an annoyingly righteous front. She spends hours toying with her laptop and ignores all those around her. Intimacy has become scarce and displays of affection nonexistent. Once in a while, she will engage in love-making, but only as a “favor” for me. “I am doing this for you,” she will say. Her body language is loud and clear: “Get on with it, the sooner the better.” No hugging and no kissing, just plain mechanical movements that last a few minutes. Then, instead of snuggling like we used to afterward, she will turn her back to me and go to sleep. Several minutes later, I hear her snoring.

I am at a loss for what to do. I care a lot about my wife, but I am losing patience. I have implored her to seek help but to no avail.  She definitely has past issues: Her father abandoned her as a child and she had a first marriage that was a love-hate and compulsive-obsessive relationship. She also gives the impression that she is too smart to seek counseling. “I am fine,” she will dismissively say, giggling. Silence has become her main form of expression. 

I have asked myself whether someone who was once passionate can eventually become cold. One trait that attracted me to my wife was our ability to talk freely and share things. We were best friends, compassionate, affectionate, and romantic with each other. These days, my wife does not care about my comings and goings. She never calls me when I am away, nor does she answer my texts until several hours have elapsed. She has even encouraged me to stay away from home as long as possible. I am a roving salesman and constantly on the move, and yet I make sure I am home two weeks a month. When I come home from a trip, she acts as cold as ice. She rarely greets me warmly, nor does she acknowledge my arrival. Simply put, she does not care. There is no small talk about work or family. When I ask her about her work, she gives me short answers.

I am a 45-year-old man and I have no intention of spending the rest of my life in an unfulfilling marriage. For me, marriage is about companionship, friendship, communication, kindness, and affection. How long am I willing to wait for my wife to seek help and get better? I am seriously contemplating leaving her because I am becoming like her, indifferent to our marriage. I no longer look forward to coming home and, yes, I am extending my days away from home to avoid having to see her in her current state.

I have come to realize that when one partner becomes apathetic for any one of several reasons (mental, physical, or change of heart), the other partner will then do so as well because no response comes from his/her attempts to rescue the marriage or learn what is wrong. In essence, apathy in a marriage is truly insidious because all caring and communication stops. There is even no longer any anger.

At the Bottom of the Abyss

Life was good, then.

I was married, happy, and the head of a loving household. Then, things started falling apart.

After two disastrous marriages in which I was the major contributor to their demise, I met Muna, a petite woman in her thirties. Her husband—also the father of her children—was in Africa. She asked me to help her file for divorce from her husband whom she had not seen in more than five years. Her grounds for the marital dissolution were based on abandonment. What started with lending a helping hand to Muna with her legal paperwork mushroomed into a full-blown romance. A few months after her divorce became final, Muna and I were married according to our religion but not legally.

Muna and I got off to a good start. She was a hard working woman, a devoted and loving mother, and very loyal. As my anchor, she stabilized my life. The beginning was a period when I genuinely felt loved and cared for. Moreover, I became a father figure for her children.

After six years of marriage, surprisingly, Muna’s former husband arrived in the United States as a refugee. Handsome, short, and stocky, he waged an all-out campaign to win back Muna. He failed miserably, and he tried to do the same with his children, but that too failed. I was impressed with Muna’s resolve and her dogged commitment to protect our marriage.

Then, I left for Kenya. It was a simple plan to visit my parents but it had dire consequences. I met a young lady who was a distant relative and was smitten from the very first moment.  I had a lapse of memory: I forgot I was indeed married.  To make a long story short, I married the young lady in Kenya. That was the beginning of the unraveling of my marriage to Muna. Somehow, she heard the news and was furious. She vowed not to have anything to do with me. I thought she was bluffing.

When I returned to America, Muna was still insane with jealousy. I had no home and no wife. Muna’s anger toward me did not abate but it got worse when she shoved me out of our home. She was adamant I not contact her or her children. If I wanted to reconcile with her, she had a sinister request: “Get rid of your new wife in Africa.” I assured her that my new wife would never set foot in the U.S. and she had nothing to worry about, but to no avail. Muna and I split.

I moved on and was blessed with two children from my wife in Kenya. I also became a successful businessman. I thrived in my new life and started traveling to Africa, the Far East, and the United Arab Emirates for my import/export business. I rarely visited the States during those five years. I also forgot about Muna.

True to my nature and past history, my marriage collapsed. I am one of those men who love courting women, showering them with gifts, and giving them utmost attention. In other words, I love the excitement of meeting a new woman, chasing her, and winning her over. Once I succeed, the thrill of the chase subsides. I start looking to conquer new targets. Needless to say, I found another young lady here in the U.S. who was 14 years my junior, married her, and had two more children. Subsequently, the marriage collapsed. Now, I have a court case to try to win custody of my youngest children. Meanwhile, I am the father of nine children and the grandfather of four. When people call me a “lady’s man,” I take it as a compliment. An elderly Somali woman once asked me why I only marry young women and then “discard them.” In truth, the problem is me: I am not good at maintaining a marriage or staying focused.

I have become nostalgic for Muna. I heard that she moved away from the Somali community. I sought out her parents to find out about Muna and her children. Unfortunately, I learned that her life had taken a bizarre turn and my reaction shifted from puzzlement to shock. Through the years, Muna had become involved with a series of shady men and—in the process—picked up a few bad habits, such as drugs. One relative characterized her as “boozy and bawdy.” Her oldest son, 21, is in jail for robbery. Strangely, Muna only talks in English to the few Somalis she occasionally encounters. Sometimes I ask myself if I contributed to Muna’s meltdown and spiral downward. Her pitiful state has gone so far beyond what is rationally conceivable. This woman was once very religious and traditional, and I am having difficulty understanding her current situation of depravity. I am having difficulty letting go of the past. The memories flood back to remind me of the good times we had as a couple. Although I still have strong feelings for her, I am unable to help her extricate herself from her deleterious environment and condition.