For months, I lived like a stranger in my own house. My husband, Peter, barely looked at me anymore.

He came home late, his eyes full of distance, his words sharp. I tried everything a wife could think of — new meals, new clothes, silence, prayer — but nothing seemed to work. Even our children noticed the tension.

The worst moment came one evening when he walked in, placed his phone on the table, and left it unlocked. A woman’s message flashed across the screen. My chest tightened.

I didn’t shout or cry. I simply packed a small bag and went to my sister’s house. That night, I stared at the ceiling wondering how love could disappear so fast.

Two weeks later, a neighbour told me about an old man known for helping couples rebuild what felt broken. His name was Dr Bokko.

She said he didn’t promise miracles; he simply understood the energy of people and nature. I was hesitant — part of me didn’t believe in such things — but I went.

Dr Bokko’s compound smelled of herbs and burning incense. He listened quietly as I poured out my story. When I finished, he smiled slightly and said, “You can’t change someone’s heart by chasing it. You must first bring your own back home.”

He gave me a mixture of herbs to boil and sprinkle around my bedroom when I returned, and told me to speak words of peace instead of anger whenever my husband crossed my mind.

I went back home that weekend. Peter ignored me at first, but I followed the old man’s instructions. I stopped questioning him. I stopped complaining. I kept my focus on healing myself. I didn’t know if the herbs truly worked or if it was just the calm they gave me, but something began to shift. Read more.