I started my little blog a few weeks ago last year (I hope that makes sense). I had no idea where I was going with it. I just wanted to write. And so I did. I wrote every day for a week. I was scared. I had landed in Kenya with not a shilling to my name. I didn’t know what would become of my life. All I knew is that I didn’t want to be an engineer. Period. Writing was and is my therapy. People ask me how or why I share so much. I think I have nothing to lose. From the minute Bae was conceived, my whole life changed. Everybody’s attitude towards me changed. Whether good or bad, it changed. I still see it sometimes. In the way some people stare at me. In the silence that follows when someone asks me where my husband is… or if the father of my child is in her life. Everything changed.
A post in one of the mummy-Whatsapp groups I’m in brought my writing fire back to life. A girl asked if she should report her Baby Daddy to FIDA because he’s a celebrity and hasn’t given towards the baby he helped create. I read that and got so emotional. It took me way back. It’s funny how some moments will always remain fresh in your mind. Long long after they’ve gone.
I hated him so much. I wanted him to die. I wanted to take that knife and stab him right where it hurt. It just wasn’t fair! We both had sex that night yet I was the one left to be scorned by everyone around me. I was the one who was constantly reminded that I fucked up and he walked away unscathed. I was the one who became a cautionary tale for little girls.
I swore I was going to sue him. I would take him to court and make him pay for what he’d done… or rather what he didn’t do. So many thoughts ran through my mind. So many decisions were agreed upon by the voices in my head. I was going to give her up for adoption. I was going to kill him. I was going to keep him from ever seeing her.
It happened the day he came to see us. Bae was probably five months old. Last we had seen him was at the hospital right after she was born. He carried her for not less than three seconds that day and gave me an envelope with some cash inside it for the baby. He looked like he’d been working out. Life was treating him well. I was fat. My boobs were full of milk and out of control. The smile plastered on my face was hiding pure misery. Maybe it was at that moment. Maybe it was before or after that. I realized that how I felt about him didn’t affect him one bit. Just because I prayed for his dick to be consumed by brimstone and fire didn’t stop him from doing him. Hating him only hurt me. That was the first and last time he contributed towards his daughter and I didn’t hate him for it. Bae and I had somehow managed without him and we’ve done it ever since. I didn’t throw the money in his face. I went and bought myself some sexy new outfits and started trying to work out 😀
I don’t think I’ll ever tire of sharing this same story. I’m that broken record that just won’t quit. I remember being 8 months pregnant and I hadn’t bought a single thing for my baby. I cried the first day I went to a baby shop and bought Bae her first pair of socks. It was all I could afford. I cried when Bae kept on falling sick and I didn’t have a job. When we were banned from traveling back to Kenya because the authorities needed the father’s passport copy to get her a visa and I had no idea where on this planet he was. When aunty would call to ask me to get diapers and I had no money. When Bae was turning 2 and I couldn’t afford to throw her a party. The times I’d walk out of the house in search of a job, knocking on every possible office door I could think of and walk back home tired, dusty and empty.
I’m no millionaire. I can barely afford to make it through to the end of the month most times. But thing is, I do. God pulls through for me every single time. Every damn time!
Every single day this year has been a testimony of God’s unfailing love. He didn’t remove me from the sticky situations. He just found a way to walk me through them. When my legs couldn’t stand, He carried me. I didn’t get a chance to take the father of my baby to court. I was too busy trying to put my life in order. Too busy living my life. When I look at my daughter I don’t see this burden I’ve been stumped with. I see my little baby. I see her in her little stroller not more than five months old in a loud smoky bar waiting for her mother to finish singing for a bunch of drunk Chinese locals. I see me doing anything to make ends meet for her. I see that tiny little thing whose favorite toy was a spoon because mummy just couldn’t afford to buy her toys. She loved it. She loved me and that was enough.
I’ve been through hell, high waters and back with this little girl. She drives me up the wall most times and there are times I could almost reconsider that adoption plan. But then she says “mama”. Every time she calls me I lose my breath. My heart literally skips a beat. It’s a feeling I can’t even describe. We’ve come so far. We’ve come too far to even bother myself with angry homicide plots.
Don’t do it. Please don’t bother trying to hurt him. Even if you have no idea where you’re going to start. I know it’s crazy to give such a non-tangible solution but just trust in God. Focus all the energy you have in form of anger and turn it into hustle. You have to hustle hard for that little one. It all begins with the decision to do. Even if you’re not sure what it is exactly will do just get up! What good will worry do to you? What good will anger do to you? You can’t allow yourself to sit and sulk. Cry all night if you want to but wake up in the morning and hustle hard! You will always remember and it will push you to do better. To give the better.
I still get emotional thinking of what we went through. I don’t think about those dark days much but when I do I truly thank God. I couldn’t have possibly done it on my own.
Live. Love. Forgive. It’s not for him. It’s for you.
I often wonder if I’ve truly forgiven him. I won’t know until we meet face to face. But what I do know right now is that I have moved leaps and bounds from the time when all my dreams involved spitting on his grave.
Lord knows it’s been a journey!
Ps: I know it’s been a while so I feel I should update you on my life. I got two permanent side hustles; which sparked my decision to move out. After searching for what feels like forever, I’ve found a place in the middle of nowhere. My toilet will be the kind that you have to squat to help yourself but if you heard how much I’m paying you’d wipe that look off your face 😛 I’m due to pay rent on Friday so if all goes well, I’ll have my first home by the weekend. No one is chasing me out or anything. I just feel like it’s time. I’d given myself a year. My time is up. Wish me luck for Bae’s sake. She’s starting school next year btw. Why does time seem to be moving at such high speed though? Work is amazing and I haven’t been fired 😀 I’ll actually be clocking 6 months soon. I’m still struggling with trying to want to work out though. Why is exercise so darn difficult?
I’ve been reading Half of a Yellow Sun the last two months-true story. Not that it’s boring… I just don’t have time!!! It’s crazy! I feel like I could be losing it soon if I don’t slow down… only I don’t know how to. I’m working on a song at RedFourth studio. My lovely friend Awena has literally held my hand and pulled me to do this. I’m really glad we came together. She’s also working on an amazing song so we’ll come out together. And here I lost faith in the music in me.
I’m excited for 2017. I really don’t want my blog to die. Thanks to my darling fans who’ve been pushing me to write. I’ll do my best. I think I actually might like this stuff 😀
Love and light,