ANGST By C. N. Wanjiku
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By C. N. Wanjiku
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He lifted the dagger to my head and shouted, "If you break in I will kill her. Better to burn the house and we both die." My step father yelled the warning to the annoyed mob after he had deeply slashed my mother’s loins and locked himself and I in the house
Born a girl by the age of four I wanted to be a boy and go round the famous "mugumo tree" just to be a boy! I was fed up with arduous household tasks that exhausted my four year old tiny back.
"All I saw was a pool of blood on my blue pants, and soon after tears ran down my cheeks like twin streams on a steep valley. What happened to me? I thought, baffled. I have just been raped and lost my virginity before celebrating my tenth Birthday."
"Vaginismus, an unfathomable word that I could not comprehend. Its powers controlled my sexual life, a twisted chain that took me years to unravel. It made my heartache, my eyes wet, my legs weak, and yes I thought it doomed my entire womanhood. What a way to start a life. Yet I had to face reality, and be a woman amid all these odds"
After a long silence, it was time to trace my steps from where I had come from. I decided to gather my mind and put it down in writing. In the process of writing this book, my thorny childhood memories pricked my mind with sharp needles from all sides, which sent a cold chill down my spine, reddened my eyes and made me immobile for a while. At this time I was thinking about a child suffering the way I did, in silence, I could not hold back my tears. My knees weakened, forcing me to kneel with my face on them as my eyes turned red like crimson and tears flowed like water over the unsolved problems in children’s lives that nobody seems to care about and everyone else shouts about through electronic and printed media. Day in and day out parents are busy in offices or in social places, while the little angels are left with the house help or taken to kindergarten at a very early age. This creates a conducive environment for all sorts of child abuse behind parents’ backs. Children are being raped, sodomized, introduced to harmful drugs, molested, harassed, abused and even bitten. Parents themselves, strangers, relatives or even fellow children do these acts.
The writer of Angst sheds light on the real life of a needy child, wriggling in dehumanizing poverty, yet alone in thought. The child is faced and challenged with many unanswered questions in her developing mind: What happened to me? Why did it happen? Who did it? How did it happen? When did it happen? Where were my parents? Children’s minds are constantly seeking answers for these questions, which need urgent attention by someone who understands them. Nothing brings so much joy than to know the truth, be loved, have peace of mind, be free to choose, to express yourself, to smile, to laugh, to cry, to shout and to know that someone, somewhere cares about you. Whether a parent, a friend, a relative or a stranger.
Can we ever really know what is going on in some one else’s mind? Can a man know what it is really like to be a woman? What experiences does a baby have during childbirth? What experiences, if any, does a fetus have in its mother’s womb?
Daniel C. Dennett, 1996.
…. Could I finish my sentence, Nicole pleaded with her shouting mama. When would you ever give me a chance to say a word? I want to start writing, because I have been beseeching for a while. Let me put it in words…Promise me that you will allow me to finish my letter. It is with great pleasure and love that I write to you this letter and please let my father read it too. Make all the necessary effort to deliver to him my message, because he had said that he loved you. When he made love to you he was overwhelmed and could not resist the temptation of having you, but after he suspected I existed in you he took to his heels and could not face you any longer. Is it that he hates me? My existence brought him an awkward predicament and he has nothing left to offer me. I have been living in you but you seem not to realize my presence. Although I cannot talk to you now I know I will one day. For I will be with you the next nine months, starting from today when you have smiles all over your face to the day that you will be groaning and writhing in pain, if only I will come to be. This period to me is like rainy and sunny seasons; when it’s rainy the farmers can hardly hide their bliss and when sun knocks on the door all farmers pull a wry face. This letter will take me nine months to finish but I will try to shorten it for your sake. Please bear with me for taking too long, I kindly request you to offer me enough writing pads and quills to last me exactly nine months. Although this letter may look uncommon to my father, please let him know that he should also take time to read it.
October 4, 2002
I have realized that no one notices me, not even my father, it’s only you who suspects that I exist and this troubles me so much. Unfortunately there is nothing I can do. I will stay with these papers until the last sheet. I will stay here and give you all the peace that you deserve. Although I am sluggish in writing I am sure I will be through and hope you will be able to read this scribble because I am illiterate. The first few weeks you used to smile with me but after days tally up to one month you started being inquisitive, jittery, vexed and I could feel the cold chill down your spine. When you felt this, my heart was throbbing but I could not comprehend why this happened. I am here, alone in my own planet. Can you remember how you felt when you lived here? Perhaps you could tell me and give me some tactics on how to be blissful. My sisters next to me are quiet to the world and know nothing about me. They cannot console me but probably will join me in two years time. Mama, I am here although you are not aware of my presence. However, I will remain silent on my thorny seat until you discover me yourself.
Now your smiles are shorter in length and time. It’s like a flash of a camera, and you prefer to see your personal doctor because your life seems to have had some changes for the last month. For this entire time, Mother, I have been watching you. I am afraid that if you know about me you will be angered and look for help to destroy me. You have been desperately looking for my father’s contacts in vain; he had actually told you he was to go for further studies. You became more and more upset and since then I have been having fever, but I could tell no one for I am in a world of my own. You are lucky you can consult, but I cannot. You can be comforted, but I have no one to comfort me apart from you. You, who have completely shifted your mind, soul and heart to another direction. You are not sure if I exist or not. Mother, I am a reality. I exist. Just go back to your doctor and get the results. I count on you, I trust you, and I believe in you. I know you care about me.
Up to now I only saw you smile once and not again. You have been seeking advice on what to do with me. But I still cannot understand you, Mother. What are you thinking about me? I am getting curious and need an urgent answer because I am getting jumpy about my life. Although you are sitting next to the fireplace and covered with a duvet, I am trembling with cold because of fear. Fear whether I will ever see your face. Some one else is giving you wrong advice Mother. I have been crying since I noticed your sad face after you noticed about my presence. I wish I could hide somewhere far away from you. But you are my only hope; if only I had a choice, I could express myself like my sisters and brothers and could fight for my rights. You are now sure that I have invaded your peace and you think that your life is gradually languishing. You are just about to make a decision. If only you could listen to me. I have been lonely here. You are worried that if I get beyond this you might not be able to get rid of me. I am scared stiff by your thoughts, my eyes are red like pepper for fear that I might never see your face Mother. I only have six more months to go and I will join you in your world. Please listen to my cry and wipe my tears. Promise me that I will see you one day, one day.
You have been crying day after day. I have been counting every drop of tears you make because of me, and for every drop of tears, I drop a hundred. I am always with you, but now you have made up your mind you never wanted me. I was just a mishap and now you are doomed to fate if I continue living in you. Some are for me while others are against me. I love them equally and have no grudge for their utterance for they all make sense to me. You have said tomorrow you will have to remove me and you are not turning back. This is because you are deprived and you cannot afford to bring me up the way you want. Mama, I do not need all that. All I need is to see your world, where you are, because I already exist. My sisters next to me cannot write. Could you give me a chance to see what you have seen? I am pleading with you continuously till you assure me of security. In this world I cannot see anything, only darkness, and I am writing to you in difficulties, struggling to open my tiny eyes and keep them open in the salty ocean. They are red like blood, but I will not stop. I am in the battlefield with no weapon and all my enemies surround me ready to fire. Where can I hide? I wish I could sublime, for only then my will enemies lose hope and disperse.
You have avoided crowds. You do not want your friends to see you because you are with me, but why is this? Do you love me? Because if you did you could invite all your family and friends to feel me kick. You are still not convinced. You feel that I am being stubborn and irritating. Everyone has started looking at you in dismay and you are embarrassed that I am with you. You really want to get rid of me, but wait for a moment. Where is my father who only offered a donation for my existence? I think you share the same idea, because I have not heard his voice for a while. I am worried because you are the only person I can exchange a few words with, so please let me know about him. I am five months old and am still writing. My quill has never slipped from my infinitesimal fingers. The clock is ticking, and soon I will be out of here. I will be there with you. Just to convince you and make you change your mind so that I will have a chance to come to you. I have decided to take the bull by the horns, although many might see it as if am just carrying an ass on my back, I know they will one day understand why I am doing so.
Depression is written all over your face. You have a heavy towel for wiping the sweat because of me. Both of you think it was not a good idea to have me. If it was not for you and your lover I could not be, so please listen to me. You may not do as I say, but I want you to know the truth. Truth can only redden your eyes, but it cannot make one blind. Now you cannot conceal me. I am big and you are big too. For you to use an exit or entrance, the door must be wide open. Mama, you have no alternative but to adjust your mentality. I need to see the blanket that covers the cosmos, the wonders of nature whose secrets are those of the Supreme Being. Who should be punished, you or me? And why are you constantly thinking of destroying me without seeing the sun and the beauty of nature. Is it because I cannot talk for my self, this must be the raison d'être, but I am still writing. Please let me come to an end. I am writing to you this letter because you are too busy to pay attention to me now, but when you are through I can give it to you so that you can read it.
I can feel I am almost joining you in your world. Please do not wipe me out. Maybe I have been sent for your sake. I know you will not be able to give me a good life but I want to come there all the same. I am devastated by your situation; I cannot rest any longer. This is the final lap whether I will be the victor or not. It will depend on you for you are my mediator and my deity; your decision is final because I cannot go against it. Your friends and family cannot understand you. They look at you with dismay. They accuse you of intending to kill and being expectant out of wedlock. Mama, close your ears. If you fail to choose what to hear and keep, and what to hear and discard, I will die. I will have only come to explore your womb. I know that you love me so much, but that you feel you do not want me to suffer. It is exactly seven months and you have not seen my father. But don’t worry; I will console you and give you hope in life. If only you allow me to finish my letter.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Am actually on my final lap and am preparing to come there. I will see you. I have two more sheets of paper to complete, but don’t be horrified. I will be the very first, and the final paper I will complete when I come there. You have been in agony over me and now that you have no choice but into bring me to the world you are more distressed. I caught a cold since I was five months old because you are so worried and you have been sending a cold chill on me. You have carried your shopping bag to the baby shop, but you do not know what to buy because the prices are exorbitant. I have noticed you are doing my shopping on your own; my father is nowhere to be found. We are exhausted of walking alone; we are very exhausted. I feel like getting out of here to go and search for him to help us. Unfortunately, I have to wait; wait till I am called to come and join you. I am very tired. My hands are almost dropping down because of fatigue, but I have to finish my letter before coming there, so I have to increase my speed. Only days remain.
I am coming to join my brothers and sisters, but will you love me like the rest? What about my father, will I ever see him? I know that you are sad, but hold your peace. I am coming there anytime. On my journey I will make you writhe with pain for some hours. I know I will make you tired, but one thing I am sure about is that you will smile. Your face will clear as the fog clears in the morning when you see me, Mother. When you hear me cry you will forget all evil plans you had for me and welcome me with joy. Every body will want to see me and bring me presents, but I will not forget those who gave you wrong advice. To me they are like the serpent that stings on both ends. Their hearts are filled with hypocrisy and hatred for me. Mother, please do not associate with them that planned evil against me. Give them good advice and make sure that you read this piece to them. I would like to see them one day. I have come to the end of my letter because I am dashing to join you there. I will continue when I am with you. I pity you when you are in the labor ward and want you to get out of that place as soon as possible because I care about you and my love for you is endless. Even if you deny me I am still yours. Even thou you want to bring me to earth and give me away to others I will follow you. My spirit will not leave you ever, for you are my mother. Please make sure that you give my father this letter, it will be important for him to read. Mama, open the door. I am on my way.
Your loving daughter,
I am out of the shell. It has been a long and tedious journey to your world. I have legs that I can’t use, eyes and ears. All I can do is lie beside you and coil myself. I wish I was born in the animal kingdom. I could be running up and down and telling you about my experiences in your womb. My father wants to see me, but he is not sure of how you are going to behave if he comes. Let me know what this life has for me. I will try to face all challenges with confidence. Mama, I know I will give you a big problem, but counted days end. Very soon I will be big and useful. Don’t think that someone will get you out of your problems, because nobody will. Learn to solve your life problems in a clever way. Sometimes it happens through others. If you could take the responsibility of taking care of me and know that once you create a problem it’s upon you to solve it, you will have peace in mind. Life does not compel anybody to do anything; it offers a free will. And one can only go by choice. Whether it is sweet to your lips or bitter, it is upon you to detest or blame your choice. But nobody chooses whether to come or not. You and I did not choose either.
When I opened my eyes I looked up. The sunrays pointed directly in my eyes and I could hardly see anything. The crowds covered the hot sun and I started to see the beauty of nature at Mrs. Elmer’s home. There were lovely valleys and a fantastic horizon. I could see the sunrise and set and it was lovely. I liked the environment. Coming from an African setup, where women are bombarded with responsibilities while boys are set free to play, I admired the boys so much that I would do anything to be like them. But the biggest question remained; how would it be possible? I whisper a word to my creator day and night, every hour and every second, if only I could become a boy! But my mind told me this was unfeasible. My mind thought very fast, and I remembered a story I was told by my grandmother about a tree, which on going round seven times my sex could change to a boy. What a brilliant idea, I thought. This made me have wakeful nights, thinking of how this could become a reality. I was eager to try it out and next time we could take sheep for grazing I could go around seven times and, yes, turn out to be a man like I had always coveted. I was ready for my mission and I knew next time I went near that tree I would do exactly what I thought of, and there was no doubt I could become a man and have a blissful life. Coincidentally, the day I was to go there a messenger came home to deliver sad news in the wee hours of the morning. But was this to hinder me from my intentions? I ignored this thought. I heard that someone hung himself on that tree, and I could not comprehend the nature of events. How could this happen on my D-day? Although I would not mention this to anyone, I was horrified to death. Since then, I never thought of even getting near that tree. I was petrified and could hardly move. But my desire was so strong, just to be disappointed by this incident. Naturally I adopted fear of that tree and I did not even want to get close to it, neither did I mention it to anyone. Whichever powers were working here, it was difficult to tell. We took off to the scene and proved the message with our own eyes. The place I was to change my entire life, changed a man’s life by his own will and took him to the next world. I just wanted to be a man, but to him, even being a man he did not appreciate life and therefore destroyed his own life. How disturbing this remained in my developing mind.
I hated being a woman and here my dreams have been shut down in a second. It seems I will remain a woman forever; this thought made me shed tears. Life had to continue. In the village people like doing things together and the spirit of sharing is greatly encouraged. A few days after the dreaded mishap, I had to accompany the boys for grazing. My experience with them made me almost become aggressive and disobedient, but being the only girl and the youngest held me back from being harsh on them and the second reason was the harsh situation I would face when I got back to the house. I was only four years old; it was difficult to make the right decisions, and especially when I knew the whip would be waiting if I was reported doing something wrong. This could definitely be twisted so that I could be seen to be in the wrong.
Taking care of the babies was inevitable here and a duty only for girls. This made me sick, reminding me vividly of my earlier intentions. It was a cold morning and we all covered ourselves with heavy coats. My elders went to the Shamba while I took care of the babies. As I was carrying one of the babies on my back I saw a coin. It was 5 cents Kenya money and I picked it up. Elmer happened to have forgotten something and came back. Unfortunately, the 5-cent fell. How that baby got from my back is a tale I cannot tell, it was like lightening. I was bitten until I could not cry anymore, but to my neighbors who had me cry and scream this was a norm. I was taken to a near by stream and threatened to be drowned. All I did was scream for help, all this time my eyes wet with tears. I could bawl for help, but I never saw anyone at any time stopping him from biting me. This aggravated my anger towards them. I knew that I was to give that money to them, and I did not deserve this biting at all.
After spending several months here, the time came that I was to report in my nursery school class. That day I had to wake up early and I woke up at three o’clock in the morning. I could not wait to attend my first class. I was bright and caught things very fast. My teachers were excited and myself too. I wished I could live there and never go home. I was lucky to have everything that the teachers asked for, not forgetting counters, maize or bottle tops. The counters were well kept in case one was missing. One time I ate the dry maize as I saw others do. I did not know that was to be the last time I was to do such a thing. The maize were counted one by one and of course some were missing. A cold chill ran down my spine when the counting of the fifty seeds started 1,2..…. 40, 41, 42, 43…. that was all! Seven seeds were missing. I knew it was impossible to escape the whip. I wished I could melt in my skin, but alas, I had to face the music. Incidences followed, one after another, and they were all pointing to my tiny body.
It took only seven days before committing another sin. I had no idea about planting seeds. We were getting ready for tea. I was asked to go and put manure in the planting holes, but there were two types of holes; some were deep and others shallow. I saw the deep ones first and put in my manure. Why didn’t my gods tell me I had just done the wrong thing! I held my cup of tea and just before it rested on my lips, I had someone shout my name and I did not need anyone to tell me someone was breathing fire. I quickly put my cup of tea down and rolled down the hill like a coin on a smooth slope to answer the call at the shamba. Remove the manure you have just put in the holes, you silly brat! Startled, I coiled my tail like a dog under the command of its master and without question I removed the manure. After I finished I went back to the house where I gulped down my cup of tea, which was now cold and tasteless. I had a list of duties to do before the middle of the day. I sat at the entrance of the house my hands rested on my chicks and my elbows on my knees. Will this life ever come to end? I stood up and continued with my daily duties.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------In the morning the cock crowed. A visitor must be coming today, because anytime the cock crowed a visitor came. I cleaned the compound, and as soon as I finished my grandma arrived. I loved the cock for alerting me about the visitors; actually it was my best pal. It was a wonderful cock. All the rest had been slaughtered and it was the only one remaining, I knew such a visitor had to be welcomed with chicken soup, poor cock. Although it could not hear me I bid it goodbye. I did not want it to die and the attachment I had with this cock was incredible. I was very sad when it was slaughtered. I was worried that now it would be difficult for me to know when there would be a visitor. After some days Mrs Elmer made a journey to Nairobi and left me to take care of her lamb, which was one week old. The lamb was tied on a tree early in the morning before she left. When I went to check, I saw white immobile flesh with eyes wide open and fixed to one position. I untied it, touched it all over and confirmed that it was dead. I wished I could have the power to breath it back life. I knew the wrath of the gods were upon me. I started seeing stars in full daylight. Poor me. Who will save my life? As helpless as a day old baby I went back to the empty house full of tears. The sun was going down and I could see Mrs Elmer in my vision, coming in a fast moving vehicle to care for her lamb. My heart pounded heavily. I sat down and waited for my fate. As the day kissed the night goodbye she passed through where she had left her lamb. It was dead and I knew this was not to be my lucky day. She came with a stick and the dead lamb. I was bitten until my whole body was swollen and my hands could hold nothing. My heart ached with distress and cursed the day I was born. Before the sun rose the next day I was in a matatu with Elmer himself taking this forsaken child back to her parents. Decades have passed but the incident remains fresh in my mind.
Elmer was unsure about where my parents lived, so we went asking. As soon as we found the house, he left. With my swollen hands and legs I could not narrate the story to my family of the previous night. I gathered some rugs and sacks, spread them on a corner and laid down my weary head. After spending the entire day nursing my hands from the heinous beatings, evening approached fast and the sun was just about to sleep. I rested alone on the couch when a man entered the room; I had never seen him before. Help me with thread and needle he said. Before I could stretch my hands to pass it to him, he got it himself. Just before he left the door, I asked him politely to return it as soon as he finished using it. He remained silent. When my brother returned home I told him and he could not hold it. He broke into laughter and I was astounded. "That’s your stepfather," he whispered. I was dumbfounded. "How did you dare him even to return? He must have been irritated when you said that." "I don’t know," I replied, "but after I asked him to do so he said nothing and left. And so where did he go to? Will he come back?" I asked. "No, he hardly comes here." "Great, that’s good for me; he will not come back claiming that I was rude to him by asking him to return the thread that belonged to him!" By this time my mother was already pregnant with her sixth child. It was towards Christmas time and in January, students go back to school. From the look of things I was not to report to school the coming year. This made me upset. I knew life would be difficult, especially now that she was pregnant. It was evident I was to be the baby sitter for the next year. I was right; to be a baby sitter once again was not going to be easy, but who listens to children anyway. At first I thought everything was going to be all right, but this was not to be so. At least it had to take twelve months. This was like a decade that seemed not to end. Initially, I thought by staying with my mother life could be better, but I was wide of the mark. After staying with her for a few months I was raped. Since she was working I had to take care of her tot through the day as the rest went to school.
During weekends it was tough. I and my brothers had to get food for the chicken from the bins; dry bread, Ugali, blue band, cakes and a like to fill our own stomachs and those of our ducks and chicken, not knowing the risks we were exposing ourselves to. I remember one time as I was out to do this duty, I got very thirsty. At this time I was in lower classes. I saw water pouring from a pipe from the third floor of an apartment. It must have been dirty water from the washing area, but all I cared about was to quench my thirst. On asking a lady in the building if I could drink the water she told me to go to the house. She did not give water. Instead she gave me warm porridge, which was very sweet. I could not believe this. I think she was sent by her creator just to serve me, but as usual it’s difficult to enquire issues from strangers. After finishing my sweet cup of porridge, I went down the stairs thinking hard about that girl’s generosity. I lifted my dirty, filthy sack and continued collecting food for our ducks and chicken. It was defeating and to me this life caught me unaware. In addition, we were asked to also collect tins that could be sold for money. Will this kind of life end? I wondered. I could only call this answered prayers, when one morning my step father just said no, not at all, don’t collect those things anymore. My heart was delighted. Surprisingly this is the only positive thing I ever had him mention. But despite all these things I still was among the best students in my class. This kept me going and gave me courage to trust the future.
Uuuuiiiiii! Uuuuiiiii! Screams pierced through the calm night like sharp poisoned spears ready to destroy the enemy. I opened my eyes in fear. Every part of my body was trembling. I put on the lights to check on my brothers and sisters, but there was no one in the house. I went to my parent’s bedroom. It was empty. Trembling in fear I went towards the door. To my surprise it was open. I stepped out with one leg and peeped through a small hole. I had another scream followed by noise from a crowd. That voice was familiar. I banged the door behind me to go and help the woman who was the reason I was in this damn world from being bitten by her husband. My brother, my sister and I tried to stop the fight. We spent hours in the dark, cold night trying to protect her. Fighting was the order of the day. Not even a night could pass before we could hear cries. Darkness reined my world from all directions and I could barely see rays through a broken window. Struggle was the order of the day and to pass a day without shedding tears was almost impossible. A smile was an expensive thing to attain and maintain. I can’t remember a day I had time to be a child, play like a child, behave like a child, eat like a child, or cry like a child. I waited for this day and it never passed by. Everyday I had arduous household tasks round the clock. I sat on a bench for hours and sometimes locked myself in the house, thinking hard of what the future holds. My mind got dog-tired and I could not reflect anymore I fell asleep and woke up to the same problems.
I was immersed in mathematics when I heard a glass break. It was my parents yet again and quickly I closed my books and started screaming out of fear. His behavior made me resentful. It was in the afternoon. My mother had come from work earlier than usual, and went to have a "glass." My stepfather came home and asked me where she was. His eyes spoke volumes about his ill- intentions. Knowing he might be preparing for another fight, I told him I had not seen her. He took a dagger and hid it underneath his clothes. I was very afraid; my mind was disturbed. I laid my ass on a stone nearby, thinking about him. Why did he carry the dagger? Uuuuiiiiii! Uuuuiiii! He is going to kill her! I felt my blood become cold. I stood, stepped on the stone I was sitting on and tried to look at what was happening. I saw a crowd running immediately. I ran towards the crowd. "What has happened?" I asked. "He almost killed your mother! He has deeply cut her with a dagger several times on her thighs, the blood is just gushing out and she can barely walk." I could not mention a word. The furious crowd ran after him and when I saw him I ran to hide in a nearby house. He followed me and entered the same house. The crowd surrounded the house and threatened to break in. He warned if they did so, he would kill me. All this time he held his dagger above my head. I was feeble and only on his mercy because he warned me against crying or screaming. I therefore remained completely still. He told the mob outside that the only alternative was to set the house ablaze so that I would also perish with him. Having no other option the crowd could not break in for fear that he would kill me, and they could not burn the house because we would all die. They therefore left. The police came and arrested him. All this time I did not know what was happening to my mother. Some good neighbors had taken her to the hospital. Love is surely blind that even after this heinous act my mother still clings to her husband. To me it was unfathomable. How do I love a man who has pointed at me with the finger of death?
Even sheltering the beloved wife was a big challenge to him. It was in 1989 when I went home after school and there was no home. The landowners had brought down the structures. I was perplexed. Just what is happening? As I stood confused next to the earlier place called home I saw a man stagger towards me. It was my stepfather. I could not ask him a thing. It was getting dark and it was clear there was no supper and no shelter either. We spent a whole night just walking, dreading that we could be attacked in the night again. Despite sleeping in the cold we had to attend lessons as usual. I collected my school uniform from the earthen floor, dirty and creased, wiped it with a wet cloth. I put water in a cup to wash my face, collected my books that were scattered all over the floor and off I went. It was better to be in school. I could definitely not go back for lunch as there was no home anyway; I stayed in school until evening. Unfortunately, I had to go "home" then. We were not supposed to construct anything. We gathered materials and just made a temporary shelter that we could pull down anytime. Even without shelter he could not stop his animosity. He disrupted peace in the house at anytime. With my great determination to move away from this life I performed incredibly well at school and secured a place in high school.
February 03, 2003
Dear Mrs. Johnson,
It is with great pleasure and love that I write to you this note. Your contribution in my life today cannot be ignored. I would like you to know that I appreciated all the efforts that you put for me to be what I am today. For you to go an extra mile to provide me with clothing was magical to my life and can’t go unmentioned. You showed love that stole my heart and even today I still remember your good works. Although sometimes I gave you a difficult time and I had to face the whip, I appreciate your correction. Sometimes you overloaded me with assignments and by doing them I fed my mind. Thanks once again. You allowed me to attend tuition for free from the beginning to the end. Your encouragement and assistance was greatly appreciated. Although I cannot reach all of you today please pass this message to all teachers. Pass my message of love to all of them. To me you were not just teachers but parents who were ready to attend to all my problems despite my weaknesses, and at this age your help was critical. Thanks a lot for going an extra mile.
Your loving student.
As the dew dropped on the grass tears fell from my eight years old eyes and I could not stop it. My eyes were crimson and my life had been changed. Even though at this tender age I had no idea of what was happening in my life, the pain and the looks from the people explained it all. I had been raped, my virginity stolen from me, before my tenth birthday. As innocent and naïve as I was, thirsty men still eyed me and shamelessly dared harass me sexually. The fear that had been instilled in me held me and I resisted any attempt of the sex act. I hated men and on seeing any I got really worried and could hardly stay alone. Parents trust their friends, but they always forget to ask their children whether they trust them too. It is during this time it appeared to me that child molesters are people we laugh with every day. There was one man who was a very good friend to my mother called Mr Arthur. Because of their friendship I could not say anything against him, but he could always insist on holding me. I threw away his sweets and all of his offers. I realized that this chap was up to something. I stopped being obedient to him and did not serve him tea as requested by my mama. She scolded me, but I always gave it a cold shoulder by claiming that I had other duties and that someone else could do it. Initially I thought it was a coincidence that whenever I was going to lunch from school, I found him on the way. I greeted him as usual but slowly I developed fear of him. He actually escorted me and promised to continue this for afternoon classes and that I should not be worried. One time we met on the way as usual. He sent me for a soda and when I gave him the change, he retreated and told me "keep change" since it was a few coins which could only buy some biscuits. I took the offer and was very appreciative. After some time I stopped using that route. He realized it and asked me why I changed the route. I laughed and said nothing. I could not tell him it was because he was disturbing me. Soon after this short conversation he shamelessly asked me for sex. I was bowled over and obviously I could not wait to be raped again. I sensed real danger and told one of my close friends about the whole story. She consoled me and asked me to tell my parents, but I could not. This continued and in the evening my mother had a habit of sending me to the shop. I asked her to send me earlier so I could avoid seeing this man who had a family. But my mother could not understand and whenever I was sent to the shop late at night I would decline by claiming that the shops were closed and that we could buy in the morning. But one time I could not escape it and had to go to the shops. Unfortunately, like a hungry lion waiting for its prey, he was there. I was astonished and my heart almost stopped, but I pretended I was not worried at all. We went to the shop together and he escorted me home. On the way he asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted nothing from him. He was not pleased with this answer so he insisted; I can give you anything you want. I still maintained my words. Finally he took thirty shillings from his pocket and placed them on my chest. I was speechless and I could do nothing. I did not want to raise alarm because this could mean dishonor from the community. This man being my next-door neighbor and being a father to my friends who were older than me was a difficult case to handle. So was being a class six pupil whose eyes of love had not been opened and who was petrified of telling parents about the demonized issue of sex. How could I start and what would be the consequences of telling this ordeal? Some things were better to remain top secret. I went home with the thirty shillings but I did not spend it. I decided to give them to his wife the next morning, which I did. She did not ask anything, having assumed a story. When he was told about the thirty shillings he said nothing and being a dictator to his wife, she could not dare ask. I was very upset with the whole issue; first I could not report this to my parents and this tormented my mind. After I returned the money he cooled down and stopped his heartless behavior. To me, sex translated to pain and that made my blood become cold. The wounds remained fresh in my mind. I feared I would get pregnant, stigmatized, or be infected with a disease. When I cleared class eight I was the second best girl student in my school. I could hardly hide my bliss on clearing primary school. A man came to my home and actually proposed that I should marry him. Get married, aha! This was the worst joke ever. I could not say a word. I knew this was just another messenger from hell and I had no minutes to waste. My ambition was clear; getting to university and letting nothing stop me from doing so. I knew since I was bright I would definitely get there.
Now it was time to cross the bridge and go to secondary school. I was very delighted because it was a boarding school and I could leave home. Is this going to change my life, I wondered? The first two years life looked normal with no harassments. When I got to the third year I received a letter from a guy who said he was in love with me. I was tired of dealing with old married men and this young man’s love letter was definitely a good read.
I had crossed the second bridge in academics. I was very excited to now have my primary certificate, and here was my second certificate. I felt like a conqueror, but the biggest and most difficult question remained; what next? I had no clue, but one thing I was sure of; I was not to get married before completing college. That was an agreement with my heart. It felt sweet to finish high school. I felt like a heavy stone had been removed from my back. I was having a stroll in the afternoon when I met a short, plump man who was hungry for a woman’s body and he was almost sure he had gotten his catch. But he was wrong. The fear that existed in my mind could not allow me to be cheated so easily. I kept on avoiding him as much as I could.
After this hassle with men I did not love. It was my chance to have the one I had been waiting for; a man I loved. I admired his body, his sex and his hot kiss, which I yearned for all the time. He ushered me in the hot room of love and cleared the fear that existed in my mind. Now I was in campus. I could see my future burn my eyes.
It took me years building mansions on the air, but I had not the slightest idea of how I could achieve them. Whenever I told someone about my dreams in life, they believed with doubt. I could see my situation was difficult, but I was not tied there. I wanted to move on with my life. I had to start laying the foundation of my mansions on the ground by studying hard. I had high aspirations and nothing could have stopped me from achieving my intended goals in life. When I joined high school, life was not a crystal stair. I had to change my lifestyle, my way of thinking and my perception on issues in life. My third year was marked as the most awful in the academic years in school, because I was on and off from school, but counted days and that year ended too. I thought money problems were over with the third year only to realize they had been carried forward to the fourth year. During registration I had no money to pay and the teacher came with a long list of names and mine was the second to last, Nicole. I almost fainted. I had no idea how to raise this money, but as the school rules say, you have to go home until the money is paid. I had no better choice. I packed and off I went. After a week I was able to raise the money and was back in school. Being a boarding school student made my life easier. It was the only moment that I did not encounter my family battles, which was an advantage to me.
One thing I had keenly observed was the blankness that existed whenever I finished one level of education. This I had observed when I cleared primary school. After finishing high school I relaxed for some time before the results that were to determine my lack or fate. I made it clear in my mind that I would only start getting worried if I failed to secure a place in the university. I had a whole year ahead of me before joining the university. I had to do something productive, I therefore engaged myself in teaching and at the same time engaged in business.
When days are being counted they run faster than usual. Before I could develop my career as a teacher and a businessperson, students had started joining campus. When I checked on the list at the public university my name was not there. What next? I always wanted to be a doctor and was disenchanted when I did not get enough points to secure a position in the Public Universities. I had no idea of what to do. Besides, there were no funds for my further studies. My energy was directed towards my studies and fortunately I was able to join a private university. I could not hide my delight. My first year was tough, but I was determined to find my way no matter the circumstances. During my campus life I learned a lot about life. My mind took a new change, a way of thinking, and I was proud of my wits. I could express myself, talk to my friends, go out for dancing and participate in various club activities. All this gave my life a new turn. Four years unwrapped fast and I finally cleared campus in 2002, a year I could hardly forget and one that marked climax of my academics.
It sounds sweet to leave school and join the jobseekers world. After toiling for four years I landed on a sales job. I stayed there only a week and I was completely exhausted due to the nature of work. I did my interview on a Friday. I carried my certificates as usual because it was a requirement to get the job. The interviewers were quite aggressive and expressed a face of real business at work. I passed the interview and was asked to report on Monday morning, which I did. On arriving I found the other merchandisers in groups and inquired what was actually happening. I was made to understand that we were to be divided in groups. When time came we went to the closed room and were shown the real life of a merchandiser. Working hard was a must, and keeping time was vital. We were given nice success stories of people who had succeeded in the job and we actually thought we could succeed like them. I saw a gleam of light in the distance, but the working conditions I first experienced were a little bit insensitive. We were to be lectured standing for about two to five hours and one was to maintain a grin from ear to ear, no matter what. They managed to use all terms of work to give us self-esteem, to get them money. Payments were on commission and they said one item was being sold at a higher price elsewhere and for them, they were selling at a cheaper price. If one sold a cap for 200 Ksh one could get fifty shillings for commission on every cap sold. The best vendor could also become a trainer. My trainer was good and always worked hard on the field, as we called it. I innocently asked my trainer where we were going to sell the goods, and how we could get money to eat lunch and what about bus fare, but he ignored my questions. All I needed to have was a bag to carry these items, but little did I know that the bags were to conceal the items because if security knew that you were going to sell items in their premises they could actually block you. The first building I entered, there was a book to be signed. He never signed in. When I asked why he did not sign, he said it was not necessary to do so. Since he was the boss I remained silent and followed what he was going to do. We went to buyers who I believe he had been to before because they welcomed him and looked at the goods without many hassles, but some potential buyers always dismissed us and asked us to stop bothering them. There were some steps we learned for the job and that was opening and closing. One had to introduce himself, looking straight into the eyes of the potential buyer, shake his hand confidently and avoid looking all over, which could raise suspicion. Within two days I had learned the rule of the game and could now go alone. I carried a heavy bug on my back to sell and make some money for myself. In the evening I was exhausted and on arrival to the office I could only be given a glass of water. No one cared if your stomach was empty. The job was to be done, even on Saturdays. Initially we were told we could work half the day, but this was just a blatant lie to excite our desperate souls. We worked the whole day, even on Saturdays. The place was full of innocent youths who were desperate for wealth just like me. One time as I sold the goods I met a man who told me about the job I was doing. Don’t you think this job is tiring? He asked. It’s very tiring and at the end of the day. We get peanuts or nothing at all, I answered. I could introduce you to a friend who has the same job but it is to sell services; fire extinguishers. I was to go to potential buyers, convince them to put in fire extinguishers and get a commission. With this, I got tired quite early and did not attempt doing it. Staying in the house was not a better option. After college all we want are big jobs as we were always pressed to learn and secure good jobs. I realized the secret of living longer and healthy is to find something for your hands to do. When your hands and mind are busy one can actually pass a year as if it’s a minute, but if one is unoccupied then a day is like a hundred years and just waits to return to where he came from. I did not know what to do next. Any job available for me was to turn to a nightmare. A year later I applied for a job in one of the insurance firms. They called for an interview, which I passed and asked me to report to work on a Thursday morning to be selling life insurance. On talking with one of the interviewees he told me he had actually done this type of job and it was not promising at all. The manager told me that he had taken 10 years to gain his position. What came to my mind was, I don’t even want to be where he is in the next 10 years! I want to be much further, but I retained this comment. The man did not look to be. In the offices where we were asked to wait I saw a poster; "I don’t work for loyalty. I work for money. If you want loyalty get a DOG." This was interesting to read in an office and raised many questions in my mind. Since I really wanted the job I promised to report. I was to report on a Thursday morning but on second thought with the information I had gathered, I decided not to report and continued hunting for a better opportunity. This was towards the end of the year. Luckily, I secured an internship in one of the organizations that uplifted my spirit. I worked there for sometime. Finding a job became a task for me and I had no idea of how to go about it. I spent a lot of time making my resume to secure a good job. I kept on updating it and consulting the experts in the field but this did not seem to better the situation. I still did not secure a job. With the many recruiting companies and offices I decided it would be easier to pay other people to get me a job, but this did not work either. I ended up loosing my money for nothing. I invested in newspapers. Anytime jobs were advertised I did not miss a paper in the hopes that I could get a job. I took my time to write application letters and send them. Poor me; sometimes I never even received regrets. I depended on borrowed money, any coin I could get from someone. I could invest it on these papers and sending applications. The first year passed, second year and yes, third year in the house with no light yet. My time might not have come but my question was, why had it not come and when would it come? At one time I thought of having a baby, but who would support him? If I got married my husband would just take advantage of me because I didn’t have money of my own. Doing such a thing would be like jumping from the hot pan into the fire. Money was definitely an issue. I posted five application letters a week. This meant I had to buy A4 envelopes, make copies of my certificates, print and pay postage. This was quite expensive and of course I had to pay transport everyday. In my efforts to look for a job I wasted a lot of money but still hoped that one day I would get that coveted job. After taking a cup of tea I started working on my computer, writing an application letter and adding more flowers to my resume, hoping it would be my lucky day. Soon after I went to the city center of Nairobi to send the letters and to check my electronic mails. I needed a baby soon. I needed a car. I needed a house to live in, and all this needed money. How could I make it possible to achieve what I wanted? If I wrote a list of the things that I wanted it would be so long, and I had no idea of how to get even one. Not even how to feed myself. How do I solve this problem, how can I turn the tables? Life for me is just too harsh to bear, how will I save myself? When one has problems and is in desperate need of something, seconds turn to hours, hours to weeks, and weeks to years. And after waiting for a week one actually feels as if it’s a year that has ended. When times are dragging one’s mind tends to lope probably to compensate with what it thinks it’s supposed to have accomplished.
It was in the wee hours of morning when I decided to go and see the lady who is the raison d'être of my existence. It had been a while since I saw her. I had not carried anything though, only a five hundred shillings note. A few minutes later I was asked to give two hundred shillings. I knew I had no other money; I therefore gave the five hundred shillings. I was offered a cup of tea. As I took my cup of tea my mind was engaged on the life here; it was impossible. At this time my mother had gone to the shops and within a short time she was back. Why did you not come for the burial? "I had no money," I replied calmly to avoid any call for arguments. She went silent; if there is no money what can one do? She asked whether I had some more money. "No, I have no more coin." She was not happy but there was not much I could have done. Her last-born is in school. Her eyes said it all; she had no idea how she was to get to school the coming semester. Now her eyes can hardly stay dry, her mind moves like a clock thinking day and night. She has problems and her daughter too. It was time to face reality, and important to learn from the mistakes of others.
As I took a walk one of the Saturday evenings, I saw children loitering around. These children borrowed money and food from passersby. And whose children are these, I questioned myself. Was someone responsible for their coming here? And if so, why would they put their children in such harsh conditions? These children suffered innocently with no medical care, no food to eat and no shelter. It pains me so much when I walk in town and find young boys and girls borrowing money or food when they should be in school. I once interviewed a girl and a boy who were borrowing in town after they had asked me to give them money. I was amused when they told me that their parents were in the house and they had sent them to the streets to borrow. These parents must be very irresponsible. What happened to the caring parents of the past? It’s shocking that we expect parents to be warm to their children, whether rich or poor. You got that baby because you wanted a child and the issue of an unwanted baby does not arise. There is no unwanted baby in this world. The society is warm to the children, given the many children homes for the less fortunate and the orphans. We have heard of parents who burn their children as if they have been asked for burnt offerings, cutting them with daggers, biting them and killing them. Children fear their parents, and only talk when they want money; to pay school fees or buy clothes. Children need to enjoy life and not be harassed by their parents in the claim of disciplining them. They need care, not explanations, and it’s vital to work and make their lives better. Parents tend to pile more problems instead of solving the ones they can. Children are good, but they only become assets if you take good care of them, if you invest your time, money and care for them early in life. Irresponsible parents start blaming other people for failing in their duty as parents. When a child finishes primary school the parent gets more confused and even prays the child fails so they will have all the reasons of not taking the child to school. If she or he passes the exam parents start crying to the society. For a parent that is working they feel that education is not a good idea and will waste a lot of their money. A time comes that children finish their studies and succeeds in getting a job. Parents are there, day in day out, crying to a child they never wanted to see when he or she was growing up. To some, children are seen to be needy pets that just come to drain the family’s wealth. Children are abused, labeled all kinds of names, especially if they like food and sweet things. Parents bit their children, teachers bit the children, not realizing that children have just been imitating their parents behaviors. Therefore, it is so difficult for a child to change. When you see the father he also does the same, but the child is punished dually. How do you expect them to behave if not like their parents? A time comes when children become independent, children now having the upper hand. Always give back what you gave them; if you planted nothing do not expect to reap anything. More often than not one parent is in charge of all the kids. When they grow up and secure jobs, the parent who actually did not care starts threatening to curse one who will not support him. Today men are the majority victims. When children grow up they are proud to show off to their friends. They should be ashamed. Children constantly seek the truth, but only a few will give it. It is good to always be told the truth. I think it’s a great shame to have your children succeed while you have been sitting back and watching others help him or her. Before making the decision of having children they know the consequences just too well, but they choose to make themselves blind from seeing the reality. I am screaming aloud for the children, to let their parents know they need to feel that they are cared for. It is the right of every child to be loved by the parents. They have to work hard towards making their children’s lives better without making the child feel as if she or he is a burden to them. Children are suffering every day in silence but they have no mouth to talk their grievances because of their parent’s harshness. Any child who is sexually molested can only open up if it is speculated. He or she lives in great fear, especially with the stigma associated with sex. On mentioning they have been raped they could be rebuked by their parents and regarded as shame in the family. It is important that children are regarded with respect and should be given a chance to express themselves without being victimized by anyone in the family or society. It is important that children participate in some duties, but parents should not force and punish children without listening to them. Children are badly bitten because they have an unclean nose, but it is the duty of the parents to ensure that his nose is clean. Some children suffer simply because one of their parents did not want a child and thus this child will never be peaceful. They are seen to be doing the wrong thing all the time. If they are cooked for, they should wash the dishes. If their school fees are paid for, they should pass the exams with flying colors. But on investigating the parent’s education records, they were just like their children. So which miracle did the parents expect to happen to their daughter or son, which did not happen to them? Children live in absolute fear of their parents. When one is sighted, you would think bees have raided the house because the children run to their bedrooms and get busy. There are parents in this Dark Continent that love and appreciate their children. We should all learn from them. Parents hardly let their children think freely. If a parent is a doctor he wants all his children to be doctors like him and anyone who fails to achieve this is seen as shame to the family. We are all independent human beings who are capable of determining our fate. Sex, being an act that has been demonized and associated with evil, is a great challenge to many parents. Even in this era of HIV/AIDS parents have not yet adopted the tactics of telling their children, "please don’t have sex you could get HIV/AIDS." They will only rebuke them anytime they are seen with a boy or a girl in fear that they might be lured to sex.
While we may embrace the idea that the love of money is the beginning of all evil, life is impossible without money. Each and everything I do, each and every day, requires me to have coins in my pocket. Money is inevitable in everyone’s life, including children. In almost all houses children are screamed at when they talk about money matters. We need to teach our children the truth about money. If we are all educated and have children we can support, there can be remarkable change in our lives. The rich have few children, one or two each, and their children’s life is planned for. But the poor invest by giving birth to more children who eventually become everyone’s concern. Time passes by like wind and your life passes through your fingers like melting ice in the Sahara. But at the end of the day you are left alone, lonely and helpless. When life turns everyone around, some people decide to destroy and use a totally unique way of solving problems. When life is so tight, a person’s way of thinking changes. A time comes when you have absolutely nothing in your pocket people push you to pay their debts and you can not think of how to solve problems yourself, but you have to continue enjoying life. You change everything, but no sooner have you solved one problem than another one comes. And yet life has to go on. Even the poorest borrow, hoping to get something the next day. Whether this comes to pass or not the underprivileged do not care. My grandmother was deprived, my mother was needy, and does it follow that I am also underprivileged? If I am born of a poor parent I might remain poor. The rich hardly mix with the poor because any communication with such a person means that they are either borrowing money or food. Consequently the poor are greatly avoided by every one. Although many act as if to be assisting the poor, the poor do not actually feel the aid. This is because when they eat today, tomorrow they will face same problem, the same problem of yesterday. When elections approach they forget all they had gone through and receive the money again hoping it will be well. The problems exacerbate, day in day out, for help of food for the stomach is not help at all, for tomorrow I will be hungry again and forget you had helped me. We need help that will sustain a person forever and that can only be through showing them how to create wealth.
We fastened our belts and ready to go, the car was struggling with the heavy traffic in the town center. He has been doing this job for a while now and traffic does not really worry him. Next to me there was an old man who was selling coffee to the passengers. It was cheap and I was tempted to buy it, but I did not. He passed it to the passenger in front of him. This passenger took the coffee and asked the person next to him, who was also an old man, to buy and he did not buy the coffee. We were now out of town and already on Murang’a road, the car moved fast. I doubt whether it had the speed governor that had just been introduced in the business. I was coming from work and I was very exhausted. I folded my arms and laid my head on the seat entrusting my life to the driver. At this time what was in my mind was a challenging life. I was thinking seriously about it and I tried to find out what the problem was, but I could not come up with an answer. My heart ached, I felt depressed and neglected. I started thinking about my parents, was it their fault that I am suffering? If they could not support me why did they bring me in this world, and just why do parents give birth to children they cannot support? These questions lingered in my mind for a while as I was traveling. Maybe they could be in a better position to answer since they are the reason I am in this world. If only they could have avoided sex, I could not have been. In this depressing world, what should I do? Should I end it? I thought. Just before I finished my thought I heard a sharp scream in the Matatu "carjackers". My heart almost stopped. Was I in a trance? I gathered myself back and sensed danger that made my blood go cold. As I turned my head from the beautiful nature I was viewing through the window, I saw a gun pointing at my forehead. As if I was not scared I gave the guy a smile. How could this man’s mind be so congruent with my mind? I thought of self-destruction and someone is actually there to do it right away! This gun did not scare me at all. All I thought was that it must have been a simple answer to intricate life. If they take my life, they will do me a favor, a big favor, and my worldly problems would have been solved in a second with a bullet through my damn cranium. I just felt like telling the hijackers, just shoot me, if you do, you will be doing me a big favor. On staring at the hijacker with a smile, he looked at me with dismay and probably thought I was smiling at someone else. He was wrong. I was smiling because I thought he could assist me in ending this stupid life. We all fear death, but for me I fear rape more. I knew if I was asked to choose between the two. I could choose something that could take me to my maker. No, at least they never raped us. After shouting in the Matatu, the second thing was to collect our mobile phones. Since I was in the back seat I was tempted to write a message to the police but remembered my phone could alarm the thugs about it. I therefore stopped and waited patiently for my fate. I gave my phone and they returned our sim cards telling us not to worry because we could buy other phones. The second thing they asked for was money. I just passed my bag to them without uttering a word. Since I was in my slacks and a top they did not bother to check my pockets, which had nothing anyway. I stood up to let them see that I was hiding nothing and that they had picked everything from me. They only made themselves a watch richer, which was the only thing in my handbag. The thought of being raped sent a cold chill down my spine, which made me attempt to jump from the fast moving vehicle. Unfortunately, I was spotted on the side mirror and given a warning by the driver carjacker on my action. At this point all eyes landed on me. I remained calm and when asked, I denied and explained I just needed some fresh air. We were ordered to have our seat belts on which we did with trembling hands. They drove off from Ruiru, back to Nairobi. All this time we were being harassed and threatened about what would happen to us if we dared hide anything. When one is in the jaws of death the easiest thing to do is to play along the game and probably say the last prayer just incase one is offered a visa to heaven. When they alighted we were very scared and we could not even scream. The driver of the vehicle could not start the car. After many trials he managed and we went to a police station to report the matter. I had no coin on me, but I managed to get 50sh from fellow victims, which was enough to get me back to the house. No one was killed or raped and we all went home safely, but without our personal belongings.
I had no coupe; I had to take a matatu to Kayole an Estate in Eastland’s, Nairobi. Being in a hurry, I quickly entered and stood behind the door near the driver to avoid being pushed by the other passengers. Soon the matatu was full of seated and standing passengers, but actually they never got full. Passengers still got in and others hung on the door like touts because there was no space. I was pushed and could not make a step forward or backward; I had to stay still until I reached my destination. The smell of sweat and dirty feet was unbearable; I pulled my nose outside for some fresh air. A man next to me squeezed himself on me pretending that the vehicle was full. More people were still getting in the already full matatu that was already bending to one side due to overweight. But what is this man up to? Is he married? Has he ever seen a woman before? I asked myself. All I cared was to get to my destination. Mr. Steve could not stop his unwelcoming behavior. I moved away from him, but could not even get a place to step in front, behind, left or right. I therefore changed my direction to alert him about his behavior. I had no better choice but to persevere. By the time I arrived to Kayole, although it was a short distance, I was very exhausted.
On my next trip I thought I was safe because I was lucky to get a seat. As I enjoyed the scenery through the window I felt something resting on my thighs. What could this be, I wondered. It was a man’s hand. I was shocked and asked him to stop. He stopped and apologized in a low voice.
When I alighted the matatu, he followed me. I really wanted to know why he was doing this. He asked me to give him my number, which I did. This was the only way I could know more about him. He called me a few minutes later and after a short conversation I asked him, are you married? "Oh yes, I am married, but that should not worry you." Wow! I could not believe what I heard; a man married with children and still getting in a matatu to sexually harass women? This is insane. Could he be lying? Probably, I thought, but I was still eager to know about his uncivilized behavior. And how do you earn your living? "I am a businessman and I also work in a bank," he answered. It was good to hear from you, I said then I turned off the phone. I stayed in my room for a moment in deep thought about the incident. It was difficult for me to come up with an answer, an answer that could be easy to believe in. I thought about animals, our dogs and chicken, when they mated they got hold of any female. Is it the instinct that drives him to do this action, and if so where was his mind at this moment? How does he make rational decisions? Doesn’t this tell me that this kind of man can go down with anything?
I was late and had to rush and catch the first Matatu to my destination. A man once more! I sat next to a man who had luggage and looked very friendly. He started by asking me to put on my seat belt and alerted me that it’s very risky not to have my seat belt on in case we meet the police. A few minutes after, he started talking to me so friendly, but I could not understand why. Soon after he placed his big jacket on his lap and hid his hands underneath. All this time I was keenly observing him. I held my purse tightly and at a different position, and changed my sitting position as soon as I saw his hands peeping through the jacket to reach for my skirt. Fortunately, I succeeded to make him know that I could read his mind. He therefore retreated and stopped his bad behavior. All this time what was happening in my mind was a lecture to him and I swore in my mind that if he dared touch me a little he would curse the day he was born and with this I was sure because I was not ready to entertain this behavior from men anymore. I thought I would pay the matatu for a return journey and will stay with them, lecturing the man. I knew I had no witness and no one would side with me, but that did not threaten me. I knew just too well that I was right and whether he screamed or denied this action I was ready to convince his mind that he had evil intentions. I was ready not to argue with his mouth, but to request him to remain silent and listen to himself. Luckily, I alighted just too soon and therefore he did not have a chance to do what he wanted to.
Months later I boarded a matatu since this was my means of transport. As I impatiently waited for the matatu to get full because I was late, a man came and sat next to me. This is absolutely normal; he was friendly. I realized I had forgotten to buy some fruits and I left him in charge of my staff while I went to buy some fruits. I had some sweets on my hand, which he borrowed and I did not hesitate to give him. He started his conversation and I thought he had just had his bite of chocolate, his teeth said it all. This must be the first thing I noted, but did not mention it. "I am Paul, what’s your name?" he asked. "Nicole," I answered. "Wow! How nice to meet you," he said. "Pleasure to meet you too." "You know I sat here because you were seated here, o.k." "That’s interesting, and so what is your intention?" "I just saw you and was interested in you." "Where do you stay?" "Loresho," I whispered. "Really, that’s great, then we can meet any time because it’s near my place." "What do you do?" "Am a French Driver guide with a travel agency," he said. Right away we started talking French, Comment çava? "Trés bien," he answered with a very good accent and I was sure he knew the language better than I did. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he whispered. "No not at the moment." He thought I was lying; how could such a beautiful woman not have a man by her side? "I don’t believe you," he said. But I stuck on my words. "If you are, then lets go to my house; I would like you to spend time with me tonight." "Not today, maybe another time." When he was about to alight, he insisted that I alight with him, but I retreated. "I will definitely come next time," I assured him. All this time I was grinning from ear to ear; why couldn’t this man believe my words? I told him the truth, but he didn’t believe a bit of what I had told him. We exchanged telephone numbers and I alighted.
That very evening he called me and arranged for a rendezvous for the next weekend. The weekend came faster and I went to meet him at 2.00 pm. On arriving there I saw he had not arrived. I waited for a moment before going for lunch. After finishing my lunch he still had not come. I did not want to believe the obvious; that he was lying just like all the other men. It was difficult for me to accept this, but even before I finished my thought my cell phone rang and I knew it was him. I was so sure it was him, but I was wrong. I quickly ended the conversation in case he called and the phone was engaged. Shortly after he called, "Hallo, hallo?" "What happened? Are we still meeting?" "Oh yes," he answered enthusiastically, "I am very sorry that I kept you waiting for an hour, but don’t worry I will be there in a while." He came a few minutes after and I was excited, full of gusto and my face brightened. It did not take long before he asked me if I was a member of the Kenya Breweries. I said no. He softly told me that he was from an important meeting and he actually left before it was over and thus had to go back. This did not amuse me at all but I had a big heart. And I could still wait. I escorted him to the bus station. When he left I walked around the town and bought a few things for my self before he could return. He kept on writing messages, asking me not to leave and that he would come; "if you feel anything for me, please don’t leave." I did not want to spoil our first date and so I went on for two more hours. It was now 6.00pm and dusk was approaching. I did not want it to get dark before I got home. We went to a nearby hotel where we talked. I had a bottle of coke while he insisted that he could only take milk or yogurt, and he took one glass. The yogurt was over and therefore he took soda in between the conversation. I did not like this hotel at all, but it was his choice and it was not that bad. "Tell me, did you mention that you don’t have a boy friend?" "Yes, of course. Didn’t you believe me then?" "It’s not that I didn’t believe you, I just wanted to be sure." "Do you have a girl friend yourself?" "No I don’t. I had one and we parted." All this time the most difficult thing I had to accept in my mind was that this handsome man had chocolate teeth. "Could you stay over here tonight?" he asked. No, I had no such intentions. I could not imagine holding a man with this kind of teeth next to me which devil could take me to abyss to kiss such a man? My mind could not comprehend this. "No, I cannot spend a night here I will have to go." "Are you leaving me here alone just to drink beer," he injected. "Is that all you care about me now," he murmured. "I don’t think I know you enough to entrust my body to you now." He did not like this and soon after finishing the cold drinks he escorted me and gave me 100 Kenya shillings for transport. How could I know that I am not talking to a married man and colored a home breaker? How will I fish out a man that will be perfect for my children and for me? I need one as soon as now.
Three months later I met another one who gave me details about the family he had lost; his spouse in a fatal accident. I don’t know about the authenticity of this information, but it sounded so real and true that it attracted my attention. It was a long conversation before we could alight, and once again, I exchanged phone numbers. Even before getting to the house I heard my phone ring. It was him. He plotted a date in one of the hotels in the city. No problem, we shall have lunch there. We talked a lot about our lives and plotted yet a second date, but this time I was very keen. He wanted sex, but I could not sleep with a stranger. What could this translate to a principled person like me? After talking for some time I mentioned, "Tell me something more about yourself. I might be dealing with someone who is being looked for by the police." He smiled and went silent. We continued with our conversation. "I work a lot since I don’t have a wife, and what I do, is why I need you now." Well his story called for sympathy, but was I the right person to solve his problems? Maybe not. After taking our drinks I left him, taking more. He was about six feet and almost weighed 120Kg. Can I handle this really? I left.
No one told me I was coming here, I happened to come because others wanted me to, the person bringing me here feels that she does not need me she is compelled to bring me as a punishment to her "bad behavior" When I come nobody really cares what befalls me. Whether am dying of hunger or disease nobody seems to care. I have been a victim in various circumstances, and sometimes I just wished I could just drop dead, completely dead, and that could be the solution to all my tribulations. We have heard, seen, people of all levels destroying themselves, but why destroy your precious and only self. The observer sees one as destructive and evil and he is charged instantly of hell fire. We sit and mourn as usual, and actually spend a lot of money to show our last respect to our lovely departed soul. This I have no quarrel its fantastic and good to help. What I find very difficult to understand is the fact that when this person is alive no one cares about their lives, whether they ate or had tea that morning. It’s none of our business. After all, they have their people who should take care of them. We hardly have time with our depressed friends or relatives and we always say that’s life. Not realizing that life is difficult for some, we assume they will recover, but this does not happen. They simply open their way to a far country where they think their problems will be understood and solved. It’s important that we cultivate the spirit of brotherhood. I have no right to destroy my life despite being brought in this world without my consent. The crowd is back with questions and accusations yet it offers nothing. Don’t you think it would be better to die than to leave a life of uncertainty? Do you really applaud children on the streets begging for money? Then why can’t you leave people to make their own decisions? Why give birth to me if you cannot offer my basic needs? Are you condemning me to eternal poverty? Let the people know they are loved and appreciated before they die. If I was to die during the incidence of the hijackers, I could have died a desperate woman, in great pain and having seen no glimmer of light in life. The first time self destruction appeared in my mind I was in my teenage years. Earlier in life, I really wished I could be a boy. I locked my self in a room and wished the earth would open up and swallow me. Oh sweet death, sister of life, why can’t you run for my life?
My grandmother had just prepared "irio" and was calling us for supper. I was hungry since I had not had lunch. I tuned on the small radio that was not clear, to listen to the news. My grandmother started complaining. She said news nowadays has lost taste. She hardly listens to them. I insisted I had to listen. I held the aerial with an extension of a long wire towards the window so that I could hear clearly. It was all about the referendum. Isn’t there anything else that happened today? I asked myself. I went for my plate of food and continued listening. My grandmother kept on calling me, but I was keen on the news. "I have been listening to this radio for years, Nicole, and nothing new is reported." We discussed this at length before I went to bed and she almost convinced me that I should do something else instead of wasting time listening to unimportant things. I finished my food and took a cup of tea. This time my cousins invited themselves to our discussion with grandma. After a long argument we were tired and I went to bed. Any time before I retired to bed I had to hear about politics from the radio. When I woke up in the morning I found my grandmother milking her cow. The water to prepare tea was already on the jiko. "Can I help you do something?" I asked. "No thank you," she replied. I went to a nearby shopping center to buy a newspaper but I did not find any. Coming from a poor family, buying a newspaper is leisure, and that was something I never saw in our house even once, unless it was borrowed, meaning it was to be returned soon after. I am talking about the access of information on the national issues to the underprivileged. It is a big challenge, and if the government cared a bit they would dish out information to the less privileged for free. It is not easy; most people depend on rumors. I did not care what happened to the government or my neighbor. All I cared about was to have my plate of Ugali whenever I needed it. At least my mother happened to buy a radio one time, and it was really precious to her. We were not supposed to turn it on when she was not in the house. The only thing I knew was about my school, my church and my family. Any other information did not look important to me, and not only to me as a child, but to my parents who did not even care about looking for that paper. The government thinks its communicating to its citizens when it’s not. Only a few middle class people have televisions or radios. The rest cannot access this vital information that actually affects them. Being hard hit by poverty, we are easily bought when it comes to voting. All we care is that after this campaign we shall have something to take to our children, in terms of food, clothing, school fees and money to pay hospital bills. When one is poor there is no choice. The poor cannot be blamed for choosing the wrong people in the government, because the elite should take control and ensure that they are not used for their own benefits. As long as a country has immense needy people politicians will always take advantage of them to reach their desired goals. I have been looking at the situation in Kenya and I wonder if it was right for me to be born here. Why was I not born in another continent? Helplessly I went back to my room, closed the doors and wept for hours. My eyes were red and my dress collar soaked in tears. I am not sure of my evening meal but why is this so while others in the same country, know nothing about hunger? Why is this vocabulary frequently only used in my home? We know that in our beloved country people sleep hungry every other day, only that not every body has the guts to advertise their problems. The sun sets and rises with our empty stomachs but school is important whether we had supper or not. School is a must. Thank God for the "Nyayo’s Milk" in primary schools, the two days a week that we receive this milk is a lifesaver.
As I walked up the tree of love I was compelled to put off my shoes and not to apply any oil on my feet or my hands. Despite this effort the tree was still slippery. I clung on broken branches. They were rough but I had to persevere before reaching the next branch. These are the fruits of nature, some sweet and others bitter. I met Mr. Lezuky, and he was a fantastic man. He was handsome and full of humor and I loved him so much. He had to leave his native home to be with his family. We continued to communicate. It was nice to remind each other of the blissful time we spent together. Men and lies are inseparable. They say anything as long as it will work for you. "I will be coming back to Kenya next month," he whispered, "and this time we shall spend more time together." "Well, I look forward to seeing you." This was a sweet lie. I knew that he could leave in a week’s time, but I was not sure whether he would come back. This was his first time to visit my country and he might not be able to come back. I waved goodbye with my weak hand as he got into the plane. Will I ever see his face again?
"Nicole." I heard a voice from behind. I had no idea who it could be and I was very tired. On making a ninety-degree turn I found it was my ex-boyfriend, Denis. What has he been doing around here I wondered? Anyway, I went towards him and said hi. I had shared a good time with him. We boarded the same matatu although we were going to different places; we talked and promised to meet again. I could feel the strings attached once more, but I forced myself not to bow to their request. It’s strange the way love works. At one time you are strongly attracted to someone and at another time you have nothing for them. It can be hard to love passionately and this taught me to play my cards well anytime I met a new guy. I loved him, but no longer do and this is clear in my mind even though we remain good friends.
After straying for a while without getting a job I decided to embark on an MBA. The registration process was long and tiring, but finally I managed. I went to one of the offices in town where I saw a guy, one of my descriptions. His name had skipped my mind and I forgot to ask his name. I excused myself. He hesitated to do so but I could not know why. For me it’s important that I know the name of each and every person that I meet. I insisted and at first he gave me the wrong name to see if I was sure that I knew his name at some other time. I expected him to tell me he was Mr. Felix but this was not so. He took a piece of paper and started writing, first his number, then his name, but why his number? I did not ask for it, but knew I would need it sometime. He started throwing hot messages in the middle of the night that drew me closer to him. For a period of two weeks we felt that we should see each other and probably talk over our feelings. Without hesitating he plotted for evening coffee, which I did not retreat. Dating a man I finally have attachment to. That evening I was tired and could only lie on my bed helplessly. After a while I got a message from him; mm so hungry, am starved. I was too tired to translate his language. I quickly invited him for lunch, but I was sure he could not make it since he was working. I didn’t care if he could come, but I could have definitely had a nice time. Later he told me, "My love I miss you so much every part of me is shaking for your love." This tore me to pieces and I wanted him badly at this particular time. At around seven thirty he repeated it again. He could not withstand my charms. At 23:55 pm, I was deep asleep and was awoken up by my cell phone. Who the hell could this be? Is someone dead? I decided to read the message- I could not hold it any longer. I had to write back something that would make him stand, sweat, give him a faster heartbeat and increase the blood flow. Honey, I miss your sweet slender, curl, soft body, I cannot sleep, my love. I knew I might reply to his mails till dawn, but I was tired. I had to stop and sleep. It was not easy for me, but I had to. If I owned a coupe then I could have picked up the keys and drove off. He would have been flabbergasted. And now we would not be talking but we could be listening to our hot bodies. On waking up the next morning it was a working day. How I wished it could have been a weekend. After a days work we met in one of the restaurants in town. He took his local brew and I had a glass of juice. It did not take long before we left the restaurant. We went to his house. Even before it appeared in my mind, there was something in my mouth. We shared our love together as he told me about his life; I’m not married and I have no children, he said. Was he telling me the truth? We sat on the bed and after giving me his first engaging kiss, he could not resist having me, and neither could I. We started putting on more wood for the fire and soon it was ablaze, red and hot.
Now I have to stop here and take a walk. I am the only person who can explain and understand my frustrated self. I sit down and cry for hours. Who will come to my rescue? Am I really a woman, I ask myself every moment? My mother is already too old to tell me who I really am, but do I even need anybody to tell me about my woman hood? I can only sit down and cry. He stood up, gathered himself and followed me in the cool air outside the apartment. Why did you leave me? I could not answer, tears only answered him. He stared at me with dismay, tried to slap and tickle me and get me out of this situation, but his efforts bore no fruits. My mind could not accept the thought of having anything between my legs. This idea sent sharp arrows in my mind. I love it, but my mind does not. Is it not the mind that thinks about sex and pushes me to go get a man to satisfy it? Or is it a devil from hell that is sent to distract my mind? I have to be frank with you now. My mind, my heart, and sex coordination leave me completely perplexed. Am I an enemy to my own self? Who is in control of my life? Is it my gods, my devils or me? I do not know. Initially I was not worried that I was petrified by sex because I was afraid of being pregnant, and I was afraid it could be painful, and yes it was evil to have sex out of wedlock. Is this good or bad teaching? Don’t people have a right to know about their sexuality? How could one know that she has pain during sex unless she does it? Think about it. Well I understand myself; I fear sex because it’s painful and penetration is difficult. How will I make my impatient boyfriend understand my situation and accept it? Is it possible, or am I just imagining the impossible? Am I in a world of my own where no one can redeem me? And now let me leave this place, because only questions are coming in my mind, no answers, not even one. If I cannot have sex then I am not a woman, neither a man, so who could I be? Earlier I had found a book that talked about this problem they called vaginismus, and I was worried to death that I could be a victim. Whether psychological or physical I did not care. All I wanted to feel was a hard prick inside.
This uncovered my rotten past and my mind could hardly contain these thoughts. After spending an unfruitful night with this man he continued to write to me and tried to plot another date. This night passed while I blamed menstruation for not having sex. I felt like a heavy wet blanket had been removed from my shoulders when morning came and put on my slacks to go home. That night was tiring. The next day I spent long hours thinking about my ordeal. I was interrupted by a phone call and it was him. "I need to see you tonight," he whispered. "And open up for me. Please, I beg you. I need to feel you squeeze me like a cobra crashing its prey." This time after engaging in long hours reading about the discovered hitch and doing some home therapy I was sure of making my lover very happy. I thought everything would be fine. Just like one of my teachers warned me in my class, never be too sure until you are sure. That’s right, we went as agreed and met in one of the restaurants in town. After having a glass of juice as usual we left, this time I was more confident. What is the problem he asked? I did not have an answer. If only he could be patient with me. Now it’s two weeks since I saw him. He has not even written a message and probably I will loose him. Will he ever come back?
This was too much pain for me to bear. I locked myself in a room and cried my problems off. I took off to a gynecologist who brought a smile to my face. I explained my problems one by one. After serious examination he assured me I had no problem, but I could not comprehend this. I expected this kind of an answer, having done a lot of research on vaginismus. I knew it was upon me to change my thinking about the issue of sex. Now at least I had a doctor’s assurance to be confident about my sexuality. I met another hot man from one of the affluent areas in the city. At first I was not sure that I should see him. But trust me, even when I decided to commit to his date I was almost sure that he could not penetrate me and I therefore thought I was safe. Alas! I was wrong. Very wrong. On stepping on the doormat he asked me not to comment on his house. I was quick to answer and said that I did not come to see the house, but him. He gave me a wonderful smile that made me smile too. Even before I could rest on a seat he was all over me. I removed my jacket as he aided me in removing the top. I put my handbag down on the seat and all I felt was warm hands all around me. He started with my boobs, then my ass, and he could not get off me even when I pleaded for a glass of cold water. He held me tight on his naked skin, went to the kitchen and got some cold water. I sipped and he placed it on the table. Immediately he started pulling off my underpants. Oops! "What are you doing?" He remained silent. When he sensed that I was resisting he took my weight on him and took me to bed where he slowly took control. He separated my feet and started digging dipper in the V where at first he could not get in. My mind was still adjusting about him. Although he was not a perfect stranger I thought that he had no such an idea. But I was wrong; a man is man. He complained that I did not want to participate and he was right. It was difficult for me to adjust my mind to this hot stuff, but it did not end there. He gave it five minutes and was back again. He was not ready to give up and this time he maintained simple. He got the tip of the bud that made me direct myself to him like someone who had just been given a charm. Without wasting a second he asked me to direct him, which I did with tip of my finger. He moved in and I felt him thrust in and out. At first I thought it was his finger, but after holding his hands I had to change my mind. It was something else, something sweeter than a hard prick. Immediately he penetrated and allowed me to be up and take control. I rode the horse and for a few minutes I was completely lost in love. When I opened my eyes I was sucking his lips. They were sweet, very sweet, so that I did not want to stop. Why he decided to do this without my consent I had no idea, but this proved to me one more thing; a man’s status does not matter. There are those times when they simply use their equipment below the belt and nothing else. Should I let him know that he has changed my life forever and that he was the first man to penetrate me? My pride could not allow me to confess such a thing. How would he think of me; that at my age I had not been penetrated by any man apart from my childhood rape? Would he believe me? No, I would not tell him anything. After, I saw his face glow like a candle in darkness and all he said was, "That was sweet. I need more." I could not hide my joy. Though he was not my boyfriend I knew that this was something I really wanted and now I was proud of being a woman. This man turned another chapter in my life: the life of lovemaking. For sure that was just the beginning of the sweet sex life. But not without fears. I was haunted by the fact that I might have carried his baby since I was in the most crucial time of the month. I was curious for weeks and I was not relieved till I received my next monthlies.
I stared at the dry land and all I could see was dry shrubs at the horizon. It was hot and the sky was clear blue. Just where was this life taking me? I sat on a corner in the middle of the bushes with folded hands and head resting on my knees. I could only think back and I thought my world ended here. Not at all. After resting on my knees for two hours I lifted my heavy head and watched the sun set. I saw a young girl holding the camel pass across where I was seated. How could parents let this young girl take care of such a gigantic animal, I wondered. My mind was engaged for half an hour watching her across the river. I was tired of folding myself in the cold riverbed and I thought of standing. When I stood I saw young children running to the river with containers to fetch water. Do the parents know the risk they are posing to their children, I asked myself. They slid along the bank smiling and laughing. Others stared at the water and were mesmerized by seeing their shadows in water, and the rest were doing what mama said: fetching water. The smiles on the young faces forced me to smile to Mother Nature as the children walked up and down the valley to their mama. It did not take long before an old man came running, accompanied by a young man, they shook their heads and their faces said there was a problem. I wished I could ask what the problem was, but they could not hear me across the wide river Tana. I only watched helplessly. They were searching for something along the riverbed; they took a canoe that was probably left there by the gods to save a life. My eyes were fixed on their action and I could not miss it. One of the children had drowned, but I had not seen this yet. I watched them fetch the water and it was astonishing how they carried a long stick that was dipped inside the water. I could see them struggle to remove it. Had they found a meal for the day? Before I could finish my thought I saw something fly to the side of the riverbed and the stick released. I heard a scream, "My son, my son is dead!" I was transfixed with shock. Why could the same parent who sent the child to the dangerous river cry after he dies? Could he not have warned him against getting there? Could he not have sent his wife to fetch the water or himself? Why send the poor angels who know nothing about the dangers of the waters? Was he doing it out of love or hate? It is a mishap no one wants to lose his offspring. It was getting cold. I felt sweat all over my body, that caused me to take off my shirt. A soul of my brother’s child had left us to join our forefathers. I put on my shirt and left. Perhaps tomorrow they will come for me. Will my father also come looking for me?
I was lying on an icy stone like a snake that has been freezing in a cave; suddenly I opened my eyes due to the heat that I felt burn my tummy. I had been thinking about my difficult life. Now all these problems are over because I have finished at the university, I am now clever and am not gullible anymore. To me this is a great achievement. I thought my life was totally undone but, my angle was still by me and I saw a completely new world. My life had taken a new turn. A decade ago I was a student and now I am a graduate. I am excited to mention this and I can afford a smile at last. I have realized that this is where I have reaped my fruits of patience, hope, and eagerness to succeed in life. My uncle has been very instrumental in my aspiration; only a few uncles’ do good things for their nieces. I cannot fail to express my gratitude to him; he has been outstanding. I thought I would never have anything to smile about in my life. I have let go my dark past. I am taking another avenue. I am forgiving everything in the past, ready to forget it. We can do nothing about our dark past, we can only build the future. My life is now and the past is no longer in my hands. People will matter but not for long. Sooner or later it will be your turn to sit back and grin. With life, I will not be impatient. It has taken me a long time to recover from my past and I am glad I am taking a new turn for my self and for my people. And for those who are still tied like I was, I ask them to let go. Whatever your background, no matter what people have said, just close those chapters and seal them permanently, lest your life pass through your fingers. Hold your present and run for your future.
March 15, 2004
This is the saddest letter I have to write today. I have no much to tell you but I could not avoid saying about the problems you caused me in my life. My life has been difficult and I have to tell you that you have greatly contributed. I know you know nothing about me as am writing this. I don’t care where you are, but I have to pass on this message to you. I know you are somewhere under the sun, you have completely forgotten about me. What a good father you are that did nothing towards my being. You did not care whether I ate or drank. If I had been waiting for you I could have died waiting and probably you would have come to heaven apologizing to me about how you really loved me. What ridicule. When I die I am sure you will attend my burial but I won’t need you to, because it will not be important to anybody. When I needed you, you were nowhere to be seen. You played hide and seek and you actually hid forever, never to be seen again. Although you have ignored your responsibilities, your conscience is my friend and you will always think about me no matter how much you made me become a borrower. You did completely nothing for me, you just exposed me to this crazy world and expected me to find my way out. You owe everyone who has helped me in anyway, even by giving me a glass of water, for it was your responsibility. Whether you have married and have other children to take care of is none of my business. You are the reason that I am in this world, and if it was not for you I would not be. Father, listen carefully. Even though you go under the earth, you are still my father, but an irresponsible father.
Your loving daughter
December 01, 2005
I love you all, be good. I urge you to live to realize your dreams. If you say something and it’s ignored, say it again, again, again and again. Always seek the truth, and have no space for twisted information. Read, read for yourselves.