On the Streets is a Zikoko weekly series about the chaos of modern dating: from situationships and endless talking stages,  to heartbreak and everything it means to be single in today’s world.

Farouq* (31) thought he was stepping into a new chapter when he got married in 2021, but within months, he was forced to confront a loss that would permanently alter the course of his life and complicate his attempts at love afterwards. In this story, he opens up about grief, the weight of starting over, and how the experience has influenced his approach to relationships.

What’s your current relationship status, and how do you feel about it?

I’m single, and I’ve realised I need to take my time instead of rushing into relationships. I lost my wife just six months into our marriage, and that experience changed how I approach relationships. 

I’m sorry. Could you tell me about your wife?

I met Fati* just after the pandemic in 2020 when I was doing my master’s, and she was an undergraduate. We lived in the same off-campus hostel complex. She approached me when I moved in and helped me figure out where to get basic things. I borrowed things from her occasionally, and over time, I developed feelings and asked her out.

She was very clear about wanting to get married. We dated for a few months, and by the time she finished school, we got married in December 2021. She was only 22.

Our problems started almost immediately. We came from different cultures, and her family made demands I couldn’t meet.

What kind of demands?

I’d just finished my programme and didn’t have a well-paying job, yet they expected me to provide a cow and several expensive items for the marriage rites. I bought a goat instead, and they were furious. It escalated into a shouting match that ended with them telling me I’d regret defying them someday. Still, we went ahead with the marriage.

In February 2022, Fati developed a severe throat problem. She coughed constantly, and sometimes she retched.   Eventually, she started coughing up blood. I took her from hospital to hospital, but none of the tests or treatments helped.

She soon grew weaker and depended on me for everything. I carried her when she couldn’t walk and cleaned up after her when she couldn’t care for herself. It wasn’t the kind of start anyone imagines for married life, but I’d made a vow and didn’t see it as a burden.

After about four months, some of her relatives insisted she return to the village. They believed traditional treatment would help. I was hesitant, but she wanted to try, so I let her go.

At first, we spoke every day. Then the calls became less frequent. Whenever I expressed concern, she told me she was getting better. By July, I had a terrible feeling and started making arrangements to bring her back home when I received the worst call of my life.

That morning, on my way to work, someone told me she had died the night before.

I froze in the middle of the road and didn’t know whether to cry. I just kept saying it couldn’t be real.

When I travelled down and saw her body, I noticed how poorly they had cared for it. That image has never left my mind.

Later, I realised someone had locked her banking app after multiple failed login attempts. I felt anger, resentment, and fear all at once. I remembered the threats her family had made during our wedding, but  I never confronted them because I feared for my life.

I’m sorry. How did you cope afterwards?

I became paranoid and isolated myself. I almost lost my job because I couldn’t function properly. Friends drifted away, and I spent nearly 10 months drowning in self-pity.

When I finally started coming back to myself, I realised I had pushed everyone away.

Did you try dating again?

Yes. As time passed, loneliness pushed me to join a Facebook support group for people who had lost loved ones. That’s where I met Amina* in May 2023. She had lost her mother years earlier and was one of the older members of the group.

We discovered we lived close to each other, so we started exchanging meals and spending time together. Being around her felt comforting.

One evening when she came to visit, we kissed and ended up sleeping together. It became an ongoing affair, but I drowned in guilt. It had only been a little over a year since my wife died, and moving on made me feel disloyal. I didn’t tell anyone about us, and I couldn’t bring myself to define the relationship.

After a few months, she confronted me. She said it felt like I was using her because I refused to define what we had.  When I still couldn’t give her clarity, she ended things. I was too much of a coward to fight for the relationship, and that became another heartbreak.

What happened after that?

I avoided relationships for another year. I felt like I had to punish myself, not just for moving on, but for not confronting my late wife’s family or demanding answers about her death.

By early 2025, my family began urging me to move forward. I decided to leave the city where I’d lived since my marriage and start a new job. That’s how I met Mabel*.

Tell me about Mabel.

She was my colleague, very beautiful and open-minded. We flirted at first, and in May, I told her I wanted something serious. She agreed.

But I didn’t tell her I had been married before. Nobody at my new workplace knew, so I avoided the topic. I wasn’t hiding it. It just never came up.

Three months later, someone posted my late wife’s third memorial and tagged me. The post included our wedding photos. Mabel saw it and came to my house, furious. She demanded an explanation. I told her everything, but she still felt betrayed.

She went as far as sharing the information with some colleagues, which made things awkward at work. I was hurt, and it led to an argument that ended with us taking a break. A few weeks later, when I tried to reconnect, she told me she had already moved on. She’s engaged to him now.

It was heartbreaking. Seeing her at work after that was painful, but I’ve taken accountability for my mistakes. I shouldn’t have hidden such a huge part of my life.

Right. So what have these experiences taught you about relationships?

I’ve learned that love involves trying, failing, and trying again. What happened to me wasn’t my fault, but hiding the truth was wrong. When I try again,  I’ll be upfront about my past and more honest.

Finally, how are the streets treating you these days? Rate it on a scale of one to ten.

5/10. I feel like I’m just floating somewhere in the middle. I’ve had better highs and worse lows, so I can’t complain too much.

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