Biggest divorce regret: 'I paid Sh500,000, but it's the lies that hurt more'

Nation Lifestyle spoke to three people who have gone through divorce and a family law advocate.

“Listen to your gut. You always know what you need to do. No book, no podcast, no religion will save you unless you decide to save yourself,” says Olwande Akoth. 

It was easier to say I was separated than ‘divorced

Elizabeth Kariuki filed for divorce in March, and by August, her decade-long marriage had come to an end.

“Nowadays, the process is quite fast. But it depends on how parties respond. My ex-partner never attended even one court session. Each time I appeared, the judge would set a new date,” she tells Nation Lifestyle.

She married at 26, and looking back, she wonders if she pressured him to stay in a marriage that was never meant to be.

They had lived together from 2015 and formalised the marriage in 2017 through a civil ceremony. “I had even paid for everything that was needed for our wedding,” she says. 

“I may have pushed for it because he had no interest in the marriage.”

“He didn’t even show up in court; it spoke volumes. I remember during one of the divorce proceedings, I received a text message from him saying, “Hey, once you’re done with the process, can you send me the papers?” I would feel angry and ask myself why he never fought for our marriage. Even after the wedding, he never returned home to greet [my] parents,” she says.

When did she know things were not working? “There was no single moment,” she says.

It was a slow build-up, years of emotional torture.

They had already separated before she filed for divorce, but it was the act of formalising it that shook her family, especially her mother. At first, they resisted the idea, struggling to accept it, but over time, they came to stand by her. Her friends, too, walked alongside her through that difficult period, especially knowing that she tends to retreat inward, especially when going through difficult moments.

“I shut people out, including my extended family. I’ve not attended a Christmas gathering at home since 2022,” says the 37-year-old teacher.

Read: Thinking of prenup deal? Everything you need to know

Her biggest fear, she says, was that she didn’t know who she would be after the divorce.

“I felt like I had an identity as a married woman,” she says. Even after they separated, it was easier to say she was ‘separated’ than ‘divorced.’

“Saying the word divorced felt like losing a part of myself,” she says, “I even tried talking to him. I told him I’d forgive him for everything if only they could make the marriage work.”

She left the marriage without children. “But I had reached a point where I decided I can’t be married for the title of being called a wife only, while taking his responsibilities,” she says.

Elizabeth says infertility may have weighed heavily on the marriage. 

Five years into living together, Elizabeth realised she was struggling with getting a baby. They had discussed adoption earlier in the marriage and IVF [in vitro fertilisation] options, but disagreed later.

Looking back now, does she regret the divorce? Does she think she could have hung on a little bit longer? “No, I had grown into an angry person, unhappy with myself, and trapped in situations that drained me emotionally,” she says. 

“I often vented on innocent people without realising how much the marriage had changed me.”

Post-divorce, she says she has learned the value of being loved with intention. “It’s important for me to be with a man who loves me more or wants me more than I want him,” Elizabeth says. She believes the man should be the leader, and both partners must work as a team for a marriage to survive.

“Couples must normalise early conversations about money, religion, schooling, and even the possibility of not having children. Avoiding such conversations leaves room for painful surprises later,” she says.

Elizabeth is rebuilding and intentionally stepping away from environments that might trigger old wounds. She even changed jobs as part of starting over. 

“It is a completely new life,” she says.

I left while pregnant, a toddler in tow

Olwande Akoth, an eco-designer and stylist, got married young. At 21, she did a civil wedding.

Now at 32, looking back, she remembers one moment that captured the tone of the relationship. She had been discussing a topic with some of her ex-husband’s friends, a subject she happened to know well.

“He said I was trying to outshine him,” she says.

“Some men would be proud of that!”

Before making the relationship official, she says she never really paused to reflect on what they wanted their future to look like. 
“I don’t think we ever had that conversation, and that was another problem,” she says.

She had become pregnant young and, shaped by societal expectations, felt marriage was the natural next step. 

“Society expects a woman to marry someone you has a child with. I didn’t know any better at that time.”

Formalising the relationship, she says she later felt it was mostly driven by the need for documents related to work. 

She left the marriage twice and went back before she finally walked away for good. She was eight months pregnant with her second son, but that didn’t stop her. 

“I grew up in an abusive home. My mother and father fought a lot, and I promised myself I would never put myself through that.”

She says the breaking point came when she realised she was doing “most of the heavy lifting.” 

They attempted everything before divorce: counselling, separation, bible study twice to thrice a week, even changed her dressing to the modest as she tried to embody the ‘submissive wife’ look.

“Guess what? It did not work. Not even the two rounds of separation changed anything. I gave up. I gave myself one week to grieve the loss, then planned to move out,” Akoth says.

Cultural pressure, family voices and religious expectations all weighed heavily, but none offered solutions.

Read: Signing prenup costs woman her claim to ex-husband’s Malindi estate

“People had a lot to say, but no actual solution,” she says. “I stopped listening to anyone telling me to stay and fix it. I started listening to myself and my son more.”

He filed for divorce in January 2024 and she says she discovered months later and immediately sought her own lawyer, someone she says made the process bearable.

“He handled everything. I only needed to show up for court sessions. He was patient, even when I was panicking.”

The divorce ended in February this year, costing her about Sh350,000, including loans that she took to cover legal fees. What she found most frustrating was the length of the process. Both parties wanted the divorce finalised, yet the court hearings and mentions dragged on.

Does she regret the marriage?

“Marriage made me alienate myself. I had no friends. No social life. I was just a mother and a wife. Nothing else. Maybe it was my undoing, wanting to create something I never had. I was trying to heal myself by having a family.”

Post-divorce, the early months were unbearable. She was heavily pregnant, with a toddler, and no real support system. Parenting was easier, she says, because she does it alone. “He opted out. I let it be,” Akoth says. 

Her own family was distant, but a small online community made the journey less lonely.

Her understanding of marriage has transformed. She now knows what a healthy partnership looks like and what it doesn’t. 

“Violence and resilience is just a narrative driven by men who abuse women and women who are being used to abuse. I know better. Love is soft and kind and doesn’t involve violence,” she says. 

To anyone unsure whether to leave an unhappy or abusive marriage, she advises, “Listen to your gut. You always know what you need to do. No book, podcast, or religion will save you unless you decide to save yourself from an abusive marriage.”

Divorce, she says, is expensive, financially, emotionally, spiritually, but staying in the wrong marriage can cost far more. “Invest in who you decide to pick as a partner. Divorce is extremely expensive.”

My wife walked away after 16 years

If there is one big lesson that David* has learnt from his divorce, it is, “marriage cannot run on autopilot. It requires emotional presence, communication, and effort, especially as careers grow,” he says.

At 49, he had expected all his ducks to be in a row by now. A wife, a successful career and children. For years, he worked to get it all right. But as he was travelling out of Kenya to build his career, his wife back home was getting unsettled.

“Yes, we had our differences, like any couple would, especially around my work trips. But my wife kept complaining that I was too absorbed in work and not attentive enough,” he says.

“Around 2019 to 2020, she started saying she would leave me, repeatedly, but I never thought she would.”

At 29, he married her in church, believing a ceremony could at least shield him from the messiness of marriage, unaware that the vows alone don’t sustain love.

Sixteen years in, she left with his daughters.

“On October 26, 2021, I returned home from Rwanda after a two-week work trip only to find an empty house, a five-bedroom house. My three daughters were gone too, and all household items were missing. She did not respond to my text message that night,” he says. “I thought it was a joke, but she never came back.”

The wife rented a house about 11 kilometres from their five-bedroom family home, which he says they had built together.

“I was hoping the separation would soften her decision, as I agreed to pay the rent and upkeep of Sh90,000,” he says.

Both active members in the church, the pastors, tried to reconcile them.

“I still loved her. I was ready to work on the marriage, but she had already made up her mind. She went ahead and filed for divorce months after leaving. It was in January 2022. I chose not to contest the divorce,” he says.

But he was unprepared.

“She already had a lawyer, and I had just three days to find one. We could not agree on the amounts she initially demanded, so the judge ordered arbitration. Within three weeks, we had agreed that I would handle rent and school fees while she covered food,” he says.

“The divorce process took a year, but the whole thing was humiliating. I had always provided for my family. I didn’t understand why she left.”

Because children were involved, the court came up with a co-parenting schedule, three days with him, four with the ex-wife during school days, and equal time during holidays.

Of the divorce process, he says all five court appearances and accusations were the most stressful.

“I would spend Sh70,000 each time. By the end, I had spent nearly Sh500,000 on legal fees alone,” he says.

Worse than the costs were the accusations. “When I saw the divorce papers, I didn’t recognise the man being described,” he says.

Read: You help your man build a rental house then you divorce. Who takes what?

Eventually, the arbitrator encouraged them to meet and agree on property sharing. Instead of selling the matrimonial house, he decided to give it to her, along with the car and pay their children’s school fees through university. Their agreement was filed in court.

Their marriage was officially dissolved in May 2023.

The emotional fallout was severe. “My health deteriorated, my blood pressure was dangerously high, and for months, I avoided people. I didn’t go to church for four months, and I did not want to talk to anyone.”

But the judge’s ruling for him to get parental rights helped in the healing.

“I paid for my children’s counselling sessions. I did not change their school or church to maintain stability. This paid off; my daughter was in Class 8 when their mother left, and I feared her grades would drop, but she scored an A in her exams,” he says.

Did the church help when the divorce proceedings started? A few stood by him: his senior pastor, an elder who had acted as their arbitrator, and his younger brother, a pastor, who accompanied him through every step.

“But others kept away, yet they knew I never initiated the divorce. The church can be the worst place for divorcees,” he says quietly.

His regrets? The cost of divorce. “The legal fees now feel wasteful. I’ve learned that when both parties agree through arbitration, the process becomes much cheaper and much less combative.Pride and ego make divorces expensive,” he says.

If he remarries someday, he says he plans to be a more intentional partner.

“Marriage is like carrying an egg on a spoon; you must keep it balanced, or it will fall. As a man, while pursuing a career or business, you must not neglect your wife and children.”

To anyone wrestling with a troubled marriage, he says, divorce may look like the answer, but it rarely turns out that way.

“Except in cases of violence where safety must come first, most issues can be resolved if both partners are committed. And in cases where children are involved, both parties must be extremely careful.”

On co-parenting, he says, “Divorce should not stop communication when children are involved. I still met my ex-wife at school events, weddings, and family gatherings, and basic courtesy must remain.”

And if he could go back? “I would have more honest conversations, notice the small complaints, keep anger in check, and listen better, especially when someone disagrees rather than agrees with me.”