TOMORROW I BECOME YOU....Or maybe not

“if we are lucky, the end of a sentence is where we might begin.” ~Ocean Vuong.

The first time I saw her, I thought aaah what a cute girlie.

One with fair skin and I'd term her as black gold. She was always neat with a long pleated skirt and shiny shoes.

She smiled so often showcasing her perfect dental formula.

I wanted to be friends with her but at that time she was the kind of girl you keep meeting in the school corridors or leaving the washrooms—just that.

I wondered if she liked hugs because my school had this habit where everyone seemed to be hugging everyone else.

Then I saw her at CU. Here, everything about her was alive. She sang, gave testimonies, gave her deeper insight of the Bible, and was altogether a bubbly soul.

To me, she was fluent and courageous such that at the back of my mind I wished if I ever had a child I'd raise them the way this babe was raised. Learning to express themselves fully. I looked forward to hearing her talk, so for this reason, among others I never missed CU. I wanted to love Jesus the same way she did.

From her very first exam in high school, she was always top ten. Straight A's. A constant, unlike your wobbly relationships. Then she became friends with someone in my class and every time she came, I stole glances in her direction eavesdropping what she said.

She was out seeking advice on how to perform better. How do you seek to be better when you are already the best? Kinaya. 

I texted her saying these things. She laughed

A morbid laughter. Maybe a mockery kind of laughter. Until she shared her story, I knew that that laughter was genuine.

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So here goes her story;

"I grew up in a home full of activity. Something was always happening and we always had relatives around. My parents started off in the barracks but I remember living and growing up in our two-bedroom house in a middle-class estate called Kapsoya. My aunts, uncles, grandparents and parent's friends were ever around. But over the years till now, that has changed. Our house no longer has many visitors. Relatives don't visit as they once did. I'm 22 with a story as hefty as my years on earth.

My father is a military man and he is very imposing. He is controlling and very commanding. He talks to my siblings, aunts, mom, and cousins as though we are cadets he has been tasked to order around. My father fought wars for this country but he brought the wars home. Into our souls and our entire being. When we were younger he controlled every detail of our household from water usage to how much ugali was cooked. He controlled what we wore and didn't wear. The time we woke up and the kind of chores we worked on and how long we did them. My home was basically a military camp. We woke up strictly at 7 (even if you were a visitor) and opened the curtains, made tea and washed clothes half asleep.

We sneaked to our beds for the five minutes he wasn’t watching and when he reappeared we knew how to pretend. Pretense was the way of the wise.

At the beginning, he was quite a strong catholic man who read the bible with us every night. He sang hymns with us. He would lead prayers and I believe this is one of the things my mom loved about him. When I got to school, I remember him sitting us down on Saturdays and insisting we answered questions from the encyclopedias he bought us. He would sit across us and help draw lines on our books so that we’d write out our ABCDs and cross-check them with the answers in the back.

My father is neat. I don't know whether he gets this from his job but he insisted and pushed us to do the same. He covered my exercises and textbooks with cello tape and colorless covers. He taught me how to do them. We did house chores from a very young age and we’d be punished very hard if we made any mistakes. At a certain point, I learned to protect my sisters from the beating because I thought they were too much.

I was beaten so much that by the time I got to high school, I wasn't afraid of being cained by those scary teachers that the whole of Moi Forces were afraid of.

My father is what you'd call a narcissist. He may also be bipolar. Something I believe he doesn’t know of yet. My story is nothing if I don't bring him in.

At this point, you see why getting an A was never an option. It was easy for me because of him. My mom is a teacher so it even gets worse. I am not smart because I was born like this. But because my parents worked diligently to shape me this way. Every day in my home was a chore day. We did absurd chores like washing the gate and the car park walls because they were dusty. We fixed the road outside our home because why not?! I carried stones and soil with my siblings to fill potholes because both my parents drove.

As the years went by their flaws as people became more apparent. They took loans that chocked their finances and so a lot of my teenage I was told 'Sina'. They said they didn't have money so many times that I hated it so much. I hate it even when people say it lightly.

My parents were and are still scary.

Given how much I feared my father, I always got home early. Cleaned the compound.  Wiped the gate and the back of the TV screen, ensured the remote was at its rightful place, stayed away from boys, got everything in school and so on. I had to be perfect ‘like how my heavenly father and figuratively speaking my earthly father was perfect.’

So now you get why I was the "good" student in Moi forces.

It was easy for me and also the only thing I knew to be. It was so easy for me to wear neatly pleated skirts every day of the term since that's what I had been taught. Anything else felt wrong. My shoes were polished, my things arranged and my grades excelling. I was just in automated mode. I didn't think about it. I just did it.

And when you are this for the longest time, I learned to identify myself with this. I learned to see myself as this.

I didn't have friends too deeply. I wonder if I knew how to love or I was scared or I saw everyone the same way I saw my father –unlovable. I knew a lot of people. Talked to a lot of them. But never had close friends. I was popular yes, for a lot of good things but when I’d be alone. I'd be alone. I was a noise maker too. I loved talking to people and sharing stories. I was a backbencher all my school time and slept through most of my math class. I loved sleep. Sleep was an escape from my reality or maybe to regain all the sleep I lost as a child waking up at 7am.

My mother had been abused by my father for a long time. He treated her badly. I remember in primary school, just when I was about to sit for KSPE she would come with a black eye or a swollen lip. She's much fairer than i am so you could easily see the sores on her face and things like that. I would be told ugly stories of what had transpired at home by my sisters. My dad was seeing someone else. This new woman is the one who took me to Moi forces. This is because my father had beaten my mother so badly the day before that she had to run away. This new woman helped me try on my school uniform and in a way, was practicing her new role as my new mother. My first day in Moi forces was as it was; With a father pretending everything was fine like he hadn't just beaten and humiliated my mother the day before.

My high school life was pretty much like this.

I prayed hard for things to change. I prayed so much I’d fast for days. With the stoicism I had learnt from my father, I fasted for days. I didn't struggle fasting. I was very confused about my identity and what I wanted to do with my life and so I prayed for that. My sister didn't have a job so I prayed for her too. I prayed and learned of God in a new way. Unlike the God I knew at home, this God at school felt more real, way closer and different from the God my parents believed in.I liked this God of the protestants way more. Just like my academics and chores at home, I did with a relatively high level of discipline. Only that I sought Him diligently just in school.

I have hated my father my entire life. You get raised by a father like that, there's no way you come out of that place sober and with a straight mind. So I found porn when I was at home. My self-esteem was on the floor. Any little confidence I had came from what people told me….you know that can only go so far.

I went through bad phases and my roommates knew. Too heavy to share. If people talked about me, I’d pretend I didn’t know because there was no way that was going to be me.

Being abroad, I wonder if I miss home. How do you miss a cage that can possibly suffocate you to death? In campus, i have worked hard to gain my confidence. I am not there yet, but soon I will be.

I come back to Kenya yes, only because through my exposure I think Kenyans are lovely souls and the food is the best in the world.

Deep inside I still cried to God. For everything to change. I muffled way often. I sought God so much until I didn’t."

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Hello my lovely readers,

I hope you enjoyed this read or you cried through it.

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Sending love and light to yáll

Sorry again for me going MIA

I was really struggling to get back to writing but now I can't wait to write up another entry.

A lot has been going on! I am now an adulting adult and can't seem to reverse time.

Anyway, I'm so excited I'm turning 22 this coming Thursday,29th!!

incase you have riveting story to share , reach out to me on bettcaro92@gmail.com

or find me on instagram as _mutai.mutinda