TEARS FOR A BRIGHTER FUTURE

“You can interview me,” she said. I needed to interview someone for my blog. A true story.

We've been friends with her since July 2021. She used to use black heart emojis and i was bothered. It expressed lack of emotion I love her so much and she knows. Isn’t it amazing how sometimes we feel like we can freely dish out all the love we have for people? In eons, humanity has been there but are humans humane?

As I sat there the whole time listening to what she had, she started it.

“I was born in 2001 in some village. A home that I didn’t get to enjoy. In a home with a family mum and dad but this didn’t last long. When I was a month old, my mum got chased away from there. My mum went back to her father’s place. The place wasn’t the best place for a child to be. My grandmother used to brew beer. Changaa. The traditional type of beer could be consumed by the villagers to make ends meet. Life was hard. My momma stayed there for one and a half years. She then made samosas and sold them to bring something to the table and as she went running the errands, she would tie my legs and place me in a mnanda where the goats slept. She would leave me there until she returned.”

Would you mind telling me why she was chased from your father’s place? I asked curiously

“Apparently my dad had reported my uncle (mum’s brother) because of some money issues and that was just it for my mum. A ticket to be chased away and returned to her father's house.

My mum, later on, moved to her mum’s relatives who were in Nandi hills. Here, she made money from picking tea leaves and we survived that phase. Later on, when I was around the age of three we moved again to someplace called Arwos around Kapsabet. The place we moved to was my mum’s long distant relatives’ place. The family had money. Good money. Like good money that could sustain us a little bit here on earth. I was taken to a kindergarten around that place.

“let’, sip divai,” she said dramatically. The story was getting deep and I held my tears back.

“I hated the school. I ran away most of the time because it was hard. The children there did not know Swahili. My mother on the other hand started working as a secretary in a school nearby. Little did I know, she got pregnant while there. She then returned to her father’s house. My grandparent’s house. I was left with the ‘relatives’. The woman was not motherly at all. She started treating me badly. Her children would do something wrong and that earned all of us a beating, me included even if I did no mistake. I was well-convinced mine was a thorough beating compared to the rest of her kids. On Sundays, we would go to some grandma’s place for Sunday school until she died.”

Hold up. Hold up. Why did you go to the grandma’s place for Sunday school? Was she Mary the mother of Jesus or something? I asked sarcastically.

“ hahaha. Up to date, I don’t know why. I heard she was the mother of some pastor. I can’t really recall everything. I stayed there. Then it reached a point they didn’t pay my school fees. I would come home and I’d be told to go back to school. Upon returning the teacher on duty would tell me to go home again. It was hectic. The man of the house had money still but he was a drunkard. I developed a health issue. A heart one. I lived in fear. The other kids went to school as I stayed home tending to the goats. I think my mum left when I was in pre-unit because I don’t remember going to school that year. I would go only to do exams and let me tell you I would top the class.”

My girl is a genius eishhh. What heart issue? I asked.

“In 2019, I was told I have rheumatic heart disease. An inflammation. I would attest stress is a factor. Can’t tell if it was stress at that young age or the stress I have now in my twenties.

So yes, again there was a time my health started deteriorating. I began to think if I was being food poisoned. I would have diarrhea a lot. Diarrhea with blood in it. I could do much about it I was just a child. The mistreatment continued. I was made to sleep in the extra space in the kitchen with the sister to the mother of the house. It’s not like I slept properly because she made me sleep at the bottom space across her. I was suffering. A time came when I would take anything and end up vomiting. They didn’t pity me or anything. They said I was at fault that I ate too fast like a glutton. I cried almost daily. One day an old man came and saw that I wasn’t okay. He set out to go look for some traditional herbs and it helped.”

“This continued for Neighbors realized I wasn’t going to school. Some women would call me and give me porridge while I was looking after the goats. Or tea or bread. Then one day my uncle visited. It was around lunchtime. The other kids were called by their mum to eat but for me, I was told to wait. Mind you, I was younger than them. My uncle, I think noted something. 2007 term 1, schools closed. I think my uncle reported to my mother. So my aunt and my uncle’s wife came for me. They didn’t find me because I was out looking after the goats. Upon getting home, I found them. I cringe when saying home because where is home really?! That was hell. They insisted I go with them because they were sent. Up to date, they still say how I was thin not even slim, had a lot of dandruff and I was pale.”

At this point, I cried. How in the world would anyone go through this. Someone my age. Someone I know who is now so pretty. Yáll should see her.

“I never wanted to go back to that place ever. I stayed with my mum. Joined a public school where it was again so hard to adapt. I didn’t want to leave my mum’s side even for a single time. My mum gave birth remember she was pregnant….. she gave birth to a son. We were happy. Then he died when he was one year old. It wrecked havoc. My mum was so affected and she was so off and contributed to parental negligence. In 2013, the father of the house where I was, that drunkard died. His family perished. They sold their lands and all. Back at home, it was still a struggle. Being a smart kid, I wanted a better school. I knew I could do better. I was taken to a boarding school. Later on, my mum came and visited me and she gave me the phone to talk to this guy. Yes, I will refer to him as this guy. Ati talk to daddy. My whole life I knew I didn’t have a dad. The call was so weird. Seemed like forever. Then standard eight I did my national examinations and got 379 marks in 2014. My ‘dad’ heard about the results and came to cause drama in our area chief. Days later my mum asked me we go out. Then we went. We met this guy and she introduced me to him as my dad. That was the very first time I saw ‘my dad’. He bought me shoes and sandals then he wanted me to transfer from kapsabet girls to turbo girls because of the fees. Afterward, he disappeared from my life, no communication at all. I was so frustrated I swear. I was at a better place with my mum alone but why would he come into my life and disappear again?”

Men have a way of tormenting your livelihood I thought out loud. If you are against this statement please argue with that neighbour’s dog that keeps on barking nonstop.

In high school, my dad didn’t show up and my mum wanted him to assist in paying school fees. She filed a case in court. Not to say corruption was a part of everything, but she lost the case. She gave up when I was in form two. One day she gave me fare to go to a certain place and I did. I met my father. The vibes were weird. He took me to his home. I swear those people were out to frustrate me. He lived well financially stable with his new wife. This man had the audacity to tell me my mum was the bad person in this story. Angaaa ooh he was willing to do anything but my mum went and had another kid ooooh. So I found out they had a child my age. She schooled in Segero. A private high school paid over 100thousand in fees and there I was my mum struggling doing small small businesses to keep me in school plus my dad had earlier said I go to turbo because he can’t afford the fees. Tsk!! He continued saying how my mum was bad ooh she has gone to children units in Eldoret ooh like a lot of blablabla. I left the place and for a while, I wasn’t on good terms with my mum too. In form two I got a boyfriend. I channeled all my energy there. Like there I found comfort and love that I had been missing out on. I can say I was happy.”

Why would they blame your mother? Aah? And tell me about your boyfriend.

“I honestly don’t know. What happened is she lost it. This man wanted to pay half the fees but mum wanted him to pay everything. So my boyfriend. Mr toxic and a sweet traitor. He fucked me up. We loved each other a lot till we were done with high school. Then one day I visited him. Shit happened. Later on, he started pushing me away and saying ugly stuff to me. He would post other people but he never posted me saying he wanted us to remain private. Was there an us even? Campus is here with us. Year one semester one I turned to alcohol. semester two I started smoking….”

What made you start drinking? Was it peer pressure or? And would you refer to r yourself as an alcoholic? Is that how your love went sour? I interrupted.

“An alcoholic yes. From last semester 2.2 and part of this semester 3.1, right before I told you I got admitted for days. I would drink from Thursdays to Sundays straight. This guy became so negative. I tried explaining myself to him then he would tell me some things are just beyond him. I rushed to a rebound immediately the breakup was official.”

Men!! How was this rebound guy?

“I think he is with me out of pity but mentally he helped me. I never explained anything to him. He just saw how broken I am. Recently he said maybe I should take a break to heal because I hide a lot from him. Plus I’ve been battling esteem issues after my ex body shamed me. It bothers me.

This rebound guy is nice and all but we are not on good terms. He is messed up but he thinks am more messed up because I don’t open up or talk about my problems. Next year I will probably be with a girl smh.

"I want people to understand that the tears I've shed are not just normal tears but tears that wash my eyes for a view of a better and brighter future"

i also want her to understand that she is not broken but the potter (God) wants to put her together again.

if you have a story don't hesitate to share my email address is bettcaro92@gmail.com

send a brief description of the story and I will get to you.

to my friends and family you can text me.