Enough ie enough

My body felt torrid! I squirmed trying to use the little energy I had to get onto my feet. I faintly supported myself on a stool and pushed myself up having my back leaning against the wall.. then I felt a sharp blow on my head. Boom! I staggered, lost my balance and fell back down with a thud. This was followed by Wekesa’s heavy feet stamping on my back. Was he literally standing on top of me?? I couldn’t even begin to fathom what he was going to do next. I screamed, begged, apologized for any wrongs I had done for the last twelve years, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. My back went numb! I freaked out and started screaming thinking of spending my next doleful years in a wheelchair had he injured my spine. I then used my left hand to push him and he fell on the ground, considering he was a drunken stupor after visiting his favorite changaa den. 

I guess that was the dumbest mistake I had made in my 45 years on this damned world. He trembled in anger; his bloodshot eyes were a reflection of fury! He pulled my scattered hair and started slapping life out of me; I was coughing blood; beads of sweat were rolling down my wrinkled forehead; I was dizzy; I was tired; my swollen sunken eyes were semi-open…then I felt his prodigious fingers round my neck. He was strangling me! I tried to fight him off; my puny hands trying to scratch his cheeks; my debilitated legs trying to knock him down to no avail; At this point, my life flashed before my eyes. I desperately wanted to die. I was tired of the pain and misery this monster had subjected me to. As my eyeballs gouged out of their sockets, as my bewildered mind hymned to this sad song, “luwere,luwere, Nyasaye abhalinde”, I said my last prayer. Everything around me became foggy, my hands and legs gave up the fight; they surrendered to goliath, the mean creature who was thirsty for my blood; as my eyes closed, I felt my soul slowly leaving my body….. 

then everything was white; birds were melodiously chirping, an angel was kneeling besides me wiping my bruises with a white mantle, doves were playfully dancing around me; there was a band dressed in white with breathtaking wings protruding from their backs, dancing and singing, “amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me,” oh! Their voices were therapeutic! A lovely chubby baby girl, with shiny golden eyes and hair held up in a beautiful ponytail flew by me and handed me an apple, just as I was about to take my first bite, my cheeks were slapped by a strong wind! The music stopped suddenly, screams of the beautiful girl and cherubic angels filled the air as they were swept away by the mighty wind and disappeared. I tried to move but my legs were numb, I gathered all the strength I had left, jumped to my feet but I came crushing down....  

“Daddy! You will kill mummy!” I was woken up by the screams from my children. I panted, started coughing endlessly holding my throat, saliva dripping from the right end of my lips, I shrieked! My body was quivering; as I struggled to regain my consciousness, I saw my three horrified children kneeling around my body, their eyes flooded with tears, their mouth dry from wailing, their nose drowning from their yellow mucous and their little selves bewildered from this whole mess. I then wriggled on the floor, used the little energy I had and put my arms around them, we wept uncontrollably! 

At this point, I wondered why I stayed in this abusive marriage. Like always I had a long list of reasons that consoled me into thinking staying was the only option.  

‘I stay because I have nowhere else go; all my siblings are living from hand to mouth, barely surviving-why burden them?; I stay because my parents, who might have saved me from the uncouth hands of this devil passed on when I was ten years; I stay because I have no choice, Wekesa married me when I was just eighteen years, this man has made decisions pertaining my life for over three decades now. I stay because, who wants to marry an illiterate, malnourished, smelly, ugly dying woman? yes, am dying! I was born with HIV/AIDS courtesy of my parents and I hated them until the day they took their last breath; I stay because at least here we can afford to take our turungi and obuchieni; I stay because I've come to believe that I was be-witched. Rumors have it that my aunt Nekesa has one of my underwear wrapped around a stick in one of her hidden pots. I bet this explains the omnishambles surrounding my life; I stay because I can feel death is near. One of these days our decaying bodies will succumb to the merciful hands of death, then and only then will my children and I find peace. It’s only in death will we win this war of life and escape the misery called hunger, mistreatment, HIV/aids, shame, depression and above all WEKESA.  

So, as I cling dearly to my emaciated children, amidst the pain I manage to smile. I then break into this beautiful hymn,’ In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore’, and in that moment, I yearn for the day the truth will come to light. The day people will know that my husband is the root of all my misery. The day I will run mad and tell the world I am infected without being afraid of stereotyping. The blissful I will wake up and make a decision to get a hold of my life, make a choice to move on from this horror, if not for me, for the sake of my children. But that day is not today. I hence struggle to my feet with the help of my children, my vision is still blurry, I drag myself to the kitchen behind our house, start a fire and get busy with preparing dinner. 

No sooner had I set the table for dinner, than I hear Wekesa’s laughter echoing within the compound. Am startled by the soft voice that immediately permeates the air, “is this your house?,” 

“Yes my love, this it. Welcome home,” Wekesa responds. My panic mode is activated, I jumped towards my children and rush them to their rooms. I was not ready to have them watch the monster their father was slowly turning into. As soon as I leave their bedroom, Wekesa and his hoe walk into the tiny living room. Standing across the room, near the door that separated the sleeping rooms and the living room, I could smell alcohol reeking from his breath. 

“Woman, bring us food, we are very hungry and sleepy,” he shouts 

“What sort of embarrassment is this?”, I ask him 

“Can you get out of here before I slap you. How dare you question me Infront of my new wife?” 

“Wekesa, I will not allow you to disrespect me in our own matrimonial home. And young lady, have you no shame?” 

By the time I realized I had made one hell of a mistake, the petite, I would say malnourished lady, dressed in a black long sleeved mini dress and black rubbers had ran across the room and given me one hot slap. Wekesa who was sited on a three-legged stool was busy clapping as he laughed his ass off. I wanted to fight back, hold her by her short countable, brown, kinky hair, drag her monkey like face on our mud floor, pounce her small sunken eyes way deeper into their sockets and choke her to death. Given her size, she would be out in 2 minutes or so.  

However, I kept my calm. “Not today Satan! Riswa!,” I cursed as I watched her smile thinking she had won a WWE Raw women's championship. 

I hurriedly rushed to the kitchen, removed the remnants of our ugali and kunde from the pot, served Wekesa and his dramatic slay queen. I then sat at the wooden stool adjacent to our makuti table which was in the middle of the room watching the two nuisance humans feed each other. After they were done, I took the plates to the kitchen and rushed to bed. If these two clowns thought I would sleep on the floor, they had another thing coming. Minutes later, I was alerted by the chicken quacking from the corridor, Wekesa tried to shush them but I think my dear chicken knew there was an intruder, what a good show of solidarity. Once I heard our old wooden door squeaking, I covered myself fully with my blanket. I didn’t care the dust I was inhaling from the old blanket and raggedy mattress 

“Get out of our room,” Wekesa shouted 

I pretended to be dead asleep. The next thing I know my blanket was flying over my head, it landed near the koroboi carefully placed on top of an old box which was used as our wardrobe. Before I even uttered a word, my cowife was already pulling my legs commanding me to get out of her bed. The audacity! She had crossed the line. 

I jumped up forgetting I was sleeping on a spring bed, the bed threw me towards the door, hitting my head on the floor as I landed in a thud. Wekesa and my supposedly cowife burst out in laughter. I ignored the sharp pain that I was feeling at the back of my head, ran towards her and gave her a blow that sent her straight on the floor. Wekesa on seeing his new wife had been defeated, he came charging towards me like a mad bull. I dodged. I then took two sticks of sugarcane and started whooping his ungrateful self. I thank God he was too drunk. The beating I gave him, am sure he will never forget.  

After I was done, I packed my belongings, went to my children's room, packed their bag and made a decision to walk away from this madness. Enough was enough! I was not going to allow Wekesa to keep controlling my decisions and to send me to an early grave. In the wee hours of the morning, when the sun was rising, with fog eating away the atmosphere and mist drowning the ground, my children and I walked out of a home we had known for years. I finally made a choice to look out for myself and my children. There was no looking back. 

*Tales of a Kenyan lady*