I Could Taste Her Broken Heart

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This is a story of a girl I used to know. I thought I should share, just in case you feel like giving up.

Before she came to this world, when she was just an embryo Mommy rejected her. She baldly wanted to get rid of her. But she was naïve or didn’t know where to look to procure abortion.  Mommy tried the infamous excess tea leaves method but looks like our girl was a fighter even before she was born. That’s what gramma said.  It was unsuccessful and like any other baby she matched out crying and healthy. Somewhere in the month of November once upon a time, this world was blessed with a beautiful bouncing baby girl. That was the beginning.

When she was thirteen her dad walked into her room at night. She screamed or at least tried screaming. He left and she never found out what brought daddy to her room in the middle of the night. This made her feel insecure and decided to take care of herself. She went to bed with the kitchen henceforth until she moved out. She never spoke of that night to anyone. She knew mommy was weak and she couldn’t trust her aunties. No one trusts their aunts. Right?

She went to high school in a land Far away from home. Joined the local choir at home. And dedicated the rest of her teenage life to only two things; her spirituality and education. God and books. Church and class.

So I met her in campus. She was loud . it’s hard not to notice. I don’t know how it started but we became friends. She never stopped talking and I was always listening. It’s the only thing I do anyway, when I’m not talking. Before we know it I became her human diary. Before we knew it we became really close. Then campus life happened and somehow she got corrupted. Her holiness was tainted.

A girl from the village who knows only two places, the church and class. Who could resist corrupting that? I couldn’t resist. So i joined the team. I did what any normal human would do, I helped corrupting her in a good way. Made her a little sarcastic. Helped changed her wardrobe a little, introduced lipstick to our village girl and made her look a little more confident. The word look is used lightly.

Then she met a boy. It’s always a boy. He was from our class. I don’t know what she saw in him. To me he was a loser and a chauvinist and a jerk. He was just not good for her. But I never interfere so I did nothing. Every time she asked me what I thought of him, I shrugged or asked her back. I never commented. I guess at last she saw the obvious. They broke up, her first real heartbreak. Tears were shed, the usual after a break up. And that Was the last I ever heard of him. At least from her. The guy is still my course mate. I see him every day.

Before Long, she met someone else. He was older. It was one emotional relationship with a lot of ups and downs and minimum good days. If I were her I would have walked away. It was a very abusive relationship ,not physically though but emotionally. She found comfort in another man’s hands, that was the first time she cheated. This other abusive relationship went on for years. The fling didn’t last though. Flings don’t last, right? She told me. I was disappointed. Where I come from cheating is a sign of weakness. I despise weakness. I told her point blank.

While she was still dating her college dick head sweetheart, she met someone older. He had a wife and kids. All he ever wanted was take care of her. So he would send her money here and there. Life was good. While she used this money to cook for her dick head college sweetheart. That’s quite a love triangle, don’t you think? That didn’t last either, I don’t remember well. But one Time we were in kisumu and she insisted she wanted to see someone. I met up her sponsor and he was like every other sponsor. Fagly to mean fat and ugly. I told her he wasn’t good for her. This time I interfered. I guess they broke up.

It’s like Fates and Furies were out to make her life miserable. When she was doing her attachment, she met someone. They started from cloud nine and before she could get her little head around it. She was pregnant. PREGNANT. And the guy did what every other respectable Kenyan man would do, he asked her to get rid of it. History repeats itself, she tried. Not literally, she lacked the resource or whatever needed for the procedure. I’m pro choice so I told her to do whatever she wanted to do. It was her body anyway. But just like mommy her baby is a fighter. She is still heavily pregnant. She is due a few moons from now.

I want to blame her baby daddy for all this. I want to blame men. But I cannot. They found a girl who was looking for acceptance and they exploited that.
I want to blame daddy for all her misfortunes. For making her look for affection in all the wrong places. Heavens knows I do. I can’t do that either.
We are all responsible for our actions. Just that others have it worse than others. It has nothing to do with who we are. It doesn’t define us. Bad things happen to everyone. At least that’s what I think.
#writing
#issue
#stress
#trauma
#earlypregnancy

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2 thoughts on “I Could Taste Her Broken Heart

  1. Wow Daisy u are Really a darling, I LO.. OOVE ur stuff, they inspire me a lot. I too feel like writing to inspire others! I love you, oo I mean I like ur articles,, keep writing

    Like

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