I am 31 today. No chance of a party or any kind of celebration. All my bridges are burned to cinders. I did not care until first thing this morning. when it struck me. I am all alone for the first time in my adult life. I feel afraid now. Alone. How did I get here?
At age 19, I got married to a 37 year old man, who promised me that we would to travel the world. A few of my friends asked me to get to know him, be patient and protect myself. In my defense, my father had never taught me to protect myself and neither did he protect me. My fiancé was a year younger than my father, whom I idolised. As the only daughter from his second wife.
My brothers, all older had married at my age and I thought it was the path to take. Neither my brother my Mum had any objections. It was our way of life and love. I did not qualify for college and felt this was a natural progression for my life. I had to leave home as soon as possible and exercise my adulthood and independence in my own home.
Our wedding was very simple. Three witnesses and a smattering of flowers. My dress was short and I wore my hair under a shirt white veil. The ceremony was a blur and we were done in 30 minutes. A civil ceremony. My new husband, Safi cried, his shaking hands gripping me tighter, as we took the final photographs. I remember feeling so empty inside. At any rate, I smiled for the one camera, as Safi’s best friend took our final photo.
Tears and trembling, as I ran to the bathroom and away from Safi’s arms. I could feel his eyes follow me, as I escaped down the corridor and into the ladies’ washrooms. Alone, I stumbled into a stall, locked the door, put the seat down and wept. Asha walked in and gently knocked on the door, to make sure I was okay. Her soothing voice and words encouraging me, letting me know that I was safe and everything was going to be alright. I flushed the toilet and left the stall, joining Asha at the row of sinks.
‘Asha, have I made a mistake? I feel so clueless,’ I said to her in a shaky voice. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me close and soothing me.
‘Malia, you made a great decision. You married a sweet and gentle man. He loves you so much. Tell you what? It’s better when he loves you more! Eventually, you will grow to love him,’ she cooed, urging me to push my doubts away. She hugged me once more, then opened her clutch bag, to reapply my makeup. I watched her in the mirror, as she spoke to reassure me.
My nerves of steel taking over, we left the room and rejoined our small wedding party. His two brothers, Mkali and Tabu, with my sister, Asha. We followed them, to a restaurant nearby, chatting, laughing and joking all the way. The tension had eased and now we could be ourselves. Safi’s clammy hand clutched onto mine, as we walked slowly. The rest went ahead of us.
That day was the beginning of a simple and easy life. Safi spent so much time together those first few months, that I honestly grew into loving him. He was kind, thoughtful, smart and funny. He shared the household chores with me and often spoiled me with gifts and meals he would cook on his own. Wedded bliss.
The following year, Safi’s work took him out of town quite a lot. When he was home for a few days before the next trip, I noticed his constant agitation and worsening temper. Money was tight and our lifestyle changed. Safi was always on the phone with his assistant; a young lady who seemed over-awed with him. The calls were frequent, lasting longer and longer. Then one day, I realized Safi was travelling with his assistant, little Glory.
A few weeks later, as we got into a heated discussion, Safi began to yell at me. ‘Why can’t you just be reasonable and accept my way. Glory does and we are fine…’ his voice trailing off at the end.
I burst into tears, humiliated and shocked that he was emotionally entangled with her. He walked out of the house before I could clarify anything. A few hours later, I realised Safi had walked out with his travelling bag. He was set for travel the next day but did not come home for the night. At midnight, I went to sleep, hoping he would call or come home.’
My sleep was fitful. The start in a series of sleepless nights. Safi never called or came back. His brothers called to ask where he was and when he would be back. It seems he had blocked their numbers as well. Asha came over almost every day, to check on me and make sure I was safe and well.
Safi disappeared for six months and reappeared suddenly. He just walked in one morning, as I got home one evening. He barely made eye contact, then sat down in front of the television, changing channels. I made dinner, filled my plate and ate at the kitchen table, then cleared up, washed dishes and went to read a book in bed. I could hear him in the kitchen. He ate and washed up. I listened and heard him walk back to the sofa. That is where I found him early the next morning. He looked dishevelled, sweaty and cramped on the sofa, wrapped in a small blanket. The cycle continued for a few more days and Asha convinced me to change the locks. That Friday night, he banged on the dot for a few minutes, pleaded for me to open the door and left after a few more minutes.
Safi had become a stranger. I no longer recognized or understood his behaviour or intentions. He never called me again and I decided to wait it out.
Asha encouraged me to file for a divorce, once we learned he had been fired for theft and misconduct at work. We also learned that Glory had kicked him out, even though she was having his baby. This marriage had become busier than the busiest airport, with all the comings and goings. I resolved not to take him back because Safi could not bring himself to communicate in any form.
As I met with my lawyer, she informed me Safi had already filed for a divorce. He was also loving with another woman, who was also about to have his baby. He had been busy and I laughed at the irony. I had loved a man who chose not to be available. Now I was bout to make myself unavailable, with no apologies or explanations. We were on separate paths.
The night before my birthday, I received the divorce papers. A silent gift from the universe. My faith and confidence boosted, I decided my birthday would be the best one ever. No Ongeri lonely, I was going to make it a day of solitude and silent celebration. I am closing the doors on loneliness. I taking one step at a time and one day at a time.
I woke up excited and expectant, but still without a plan for my birthday. A quiet day would not be so bad and I am ready for a quiet evening at home. My cat and my books. A warm cup of cocoa and some soft music. I so love my own company. This is my chance to dream again and make great plans. I am not alone!
Short Stories & Poems by WarmBreezeBliss 