Saturday, 26 September 2015

A cry of the African Child!!!

The Ireland was surrounded by trees and an ocean on the other side of it. Under the trees were a number of men some were building small boats whilst others had cups of tea on their hands.

These men were in groups and it was as if life was all about building small boats and telling tales. I could just tell that they’d never been introduced to a better life style besides their usual boat building kind of a life style. I didn’t care much about what they were doing, what struck me the most was a little girl standing next to one of the trees. It was as if she couldn’t move, maybe the blazing hot sun was one of her reasons for standing under one of the trees.

The little girl looked fourteen and poverty was written all over her face, dressed in her rumpled dirty school uniform. I’m sure the color of her school shirt was once white but because of not being washed it looked brownish. The little girl had no shoes on her feet and the soles of her feet had cracked. She had a flaky skin, and her lips were extremely dry, was it because of protein poor foods maybe?. I had a number of questions maybe, it was because I had only seen such girls on those “Feed African children’s kind of posts but now it wasn’t on the net it was right before me.

Her head was covered with one of those "head coverings" worn by "Muslim" girls as an expression of modesty. I imagined where she was coming from, a one bedroom mud house with no bed but an old sponge used as a bed. Was I judging the book by its cover?

She reminded me of an old class mate by the name of Amina. Amina was a black muslim girl who always covered her head with a hijab. At that time I didn't really understand why the hijab was worn by young women like her. I mean I couldn't imagine myself being forced by my parents to wear the hijab while my mates were braiding & ironing their hair.

Amina's case was a bit complicated, she was from a home of two different religions , her mother was a born again Christian & her father was Muslim. Amina's three younger brothers would go to church with their mother , & her on the other side chose to follow her father's religion of which I think was a bit complicated just like any other religion but yet interesting.
 
Amina's father didn't care much about his wife being christian , all he wanted was her to dress modestly by covering her breasts, genitals, & also not to wear tight dresses &trousers. One day mama Amina wanted to attend a Gospel concert, so she went & bought a very beautiful white maxi dress. She came out of her bedroom dressed in a white dress with red sandals.

"Mama that dress is too tight" said Amina in a very loud voice

"Who asked for your opinion?" Mama Amina replied in a very harsh tone

"She is right my wife, a woman of God doesn't dress like that" papa Amina said, it was as if his daughter's comment kind of forced him to comment

Mama Amina was a very opinionated woman, so surely she wasn't going to let this whole thing slide. She opened her big eyes & raised her eye brows.

Wednesday, 19 August 2015

When loving him hurts...Chapter 1

She had been married to her abusive ex-husband for 5 years; they had a three year old beautiful daughter named Mbali. I first met this lady in a bus & somehow we ended up talking about relationships & her abusive marriage. At first i thought it was going to be one of those beautiful love stories of how & where they met, the things he used to do for her... but then it turned out not to be one of those girl met a guy, they fall in love, get married, have children & live happily ever after kind of stories. She smiled as she started telling her story...

“I met my then loving ex-husband in a conference. He looked so handsome & well dressed. He introduced himself as James & I remember telling him that I was going to call him James Bond (laughed).The conversation continued & we ended up exchanging numbers. Six months down the line he married me & bought a beautiful house. I remember how envious my single friends were, they all prayed for a man like James...he was every woman's dream & i was thankful for having him as my husband.

When I became pregnant James started treating me badly. He became cold and I started questioning if being with him was a right choice. We started arguing a lot & those arguments turned into punches. Before I knew it, he would disappear for a couple of days & come back drunk. I spent most of the times lonely & stressed, I couldn't even tell my friends & family what I was going through...I had to paint a picture of a happy wife.

I remember lying on the bathroom floor; I couldn't believe how ill I felt. I lifted my head over the bowl and was sick, my husband was nowhere to be found & his cell phone was off. I tried calling an ambulance & luckily it arrived within 20 minutes. I gave birth to my daughter before we could even get to the hospital. She was so tiny but adorable. I couldn't even put her down. She was the most beautiful gift I had ever received & that's when I realized that I had to protect her from her own father.

” The tears began to flow slowly at first & then became heavier as I listened to a beautiful but damaged woman's story. Sindy was wrapped in despair & her beautiful face still displayed dark bruises she had received Months back from her ex-husband. She started sobbing & couldn't continue for at least three minutes to be exact as if she knew that I wanted her to stop talking. I wanted to comfort her but somehow I couldn't. She had gone through so much & the words "I'm sorry" were the last thing she wanted to hear, she needed more than that. She knew that her pain was better shared with a stranger, a woman who knew nothing about her, someone who'd never judge her & that someone happened to be me.

"I'm sorry" she said for what? I asked
"For telling you all this, it’s just that I needed a shoulder to cry on "
You don't have to apologize
"The awkward thing is I haven’t even introduced myself” she said …

...to be continued