Hope's Prison

Catherine met Uche in Bern, Switzerland, in 1996. It was a cold night when they first crossed paths. She had just arrived in a foreign place, surrounded by foreign people, speaking a foreign language. Meeting Uche, someone from her home country, felt like offering water to someone stranded in a scorching desert. She fell in love almost immediately, captivated by his charm and the promises he made—promises that would later turn out to be hollow.

Blinded by love and manipulation, Catherine believed Uche was her safe haven in this unfamiliar land. It wasn’t long before she was drawn into the business he had been running in Switzerland. One day, Uche pulled her aside, handed her a package wrapped in a bag and a piece of cloth, and directed her to an alley. He explained where to drop it off and where to collect the money. That was how Catherine became unwittingly involved in Uche’s drug dealings, acting as his courier.

Each day, Uche sent her to different parts of Bern to deliver packages and meet clients. The buyers ranged from high-profile celebrities to everyday individuals. Bern was Uche’s turf, and Catherine moved through it under his instructions. Despite the risk, she didn’t mind. Uche had promised to marry her once they returned to their home country, vowing a lavish wedding and a better life for their future children—a dream Catherine had always cherished. She was deeply in love and willing to overlook everything for the life she believed they would build together.

One day, a celebrity was caught with drugs, and it didn’t take long for him to reveal his supplier. Catherine was the first to hear about the situation and immediately informed Uche. Within minutes, he packed his essentials and fled to the airport, leaving her behind. When the police arrived at their shared studio, they were surprised to find Catherine instead of Uche. Still, they took her in for questioning.

After six months in jail, during which no concrete evidence could link her to the case, Catherine was released and deported. She returned to her home country eager to reunite with Uche, imagining their reunion after such a long separation. However, what she found shattered her.

Uche’s family had already arranged a wife for him—a woman who was more educated and sophisticated than Catherine. She had barely finished high school, attending night classes when she could, and struggled with reading and writing.

“We can’t have her marry into our family,” one of Uche’s sisters said. “Not only is she uneducated, but she hasn’t gotten pregnant after all those years of living with you.”

“She might be infertile. We cannot have her in our family,” another sister added.

Catherine endured their harsh words, clinging to the hope that Uche would defend her. But to her surprise, he stood by his sisters, echoing their doubts about her fertility. That moment marked the first crack in her perfect vision of a life with Uche.

Though Uche’s mother supported Catherine, she could not sway the rest of the family. In the end, it was agreed: if Catherine could conceive by the end of the year, the marriage could proceed. If not, Uche would marry the doctor his family preferred.

Catherine found out she was pregnant shortly after, and by the year’s end, she and Uche were married in a traditional and court ceremony. However, she was never given the opportunity to walk down the aisle in a white wedding dress.

“You need a husband; I need children. This is a win-win marriage,” Uche told her repeatedly.

Six months into her pregnancy, Catherine reminded Uche of his promise to ensure their children were born in a better country. She suggested starting the visa process.

“Never! You’re going to have my child here,” Uche replied, shattering her hopes once again.

This argument persisted through three more pregnancies. Despite her efforts—applying for visas, undergoing the processes alone while pregnant—Uche tore up every application.

“Mommy, why don’t you divorce Daddy?” her seven-year-old daughter asked one day.

“I can’t leave your daddy,” Catherine replied, looking at her daughter’s small frame.

“But he hits you. He also conducted a burial for you when you were sick and says he regrets marrying you. I’ll follow you wherever you go. Please leave, Mommy.”

Of all Uche’s actions, the burial he organized while Catherine was still alive was the most devastating. Six months after giving birth to their second daughter, Catherine fell seriously ill and was rushed to the hospital. Tests revealed she was HIV-positive.

“What do you mean positive?” she asked the doctor in disbelief. “I’ve never been unfaithful or come into contact with contaminated blood. How could I have HIV?”

The doctor suggested testing Uche, but he refused, insisting he was negative. By the time Catherine was discharged, news of her diagnosis had spread. People avoided her like a plague, and condolence calls poured in.

Two days later, Catherine woke up to find Uche performing a live burial for her outside their home, inviting relatives to mourn her “impending death.” But as fate would have it, she survived. Years passed, and she defied the expectations of both Uche and society.

Fourteen years later, Catherine was still struggling to provide a better life for her children. Determined to escape Uche’s shadow, she secretly applied for a visa to the United States. When she asked Uche for help traveling to the consulate for her interview, he dismissed her.

“Since you went behind my back, figure it out yourself,” he said.

Catherine begged for help and eventually raised the money she needed. Her visa was approved, and she hid her passport, ensuring Uche wouldn’t destroy it.

Finally, she left for the United States, leaving her children in Uche’s care. Despite his flaws as a husband, he was a good father. Over the years, she worked tirelessly to prepare for her children to join her. When the time came, she also arranged for Uche to come, hoping they could rebuild their family.

But just two nights after his arrival, Uche told her, “I don’t feel anything for you anymore. With other women, it works, but not with you. I’m going back home.”

“Do you want me to raise these children alone?” Catherine asked, shocked.

Three months later, Uche packed his bags and left without even saying goodbye to the children. It’s been eight years since then. Catherine still calls and texts, trying to mend their broken marriage. She cries more often than she laughs, telling her children that their father hasn’t abandoned them and encouraging them to maintain contact.