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the first day we meet I think he is a good and honorable

We talk and I know we can get along. maybe it’s time to mend the broken pieces. The rain pours as we take a walk and I invite him to my house. We talk and so far it is good. He touches me and it feels good and his hands travel through my skin and onto the depths of me. I allow it. It’s time to be a free spirit.

my spirit becomes one with his but my heart and soul are far away. One week down the line and I realize that honeymoon is the shortest period in marriage. then I tell myself that it’s alright; that it gets better. only I know it’s ain’t true. still, my person tells me that I should not do this,I ignore her and make myself believe in that I am doing well. That life doesn’t get worse. my heart becomes mean to listen. my mind tells me to remember who I am. that I should not part with my person for a man. I Tell myself that it gets better but when he gets out of that house without looking back I know that I am only lying to me.

We use some phrases to justify some life events or those things we close our eyes to. better the devil you know than the angel you don’t. bullshit. He pops the question and I say yes because I think it’s what’s best for me. I look at the man by my bedside and I know It would be better if I got out of this. still, I take a warm hand and caress his ugly face. I cloud my vision so that he can be the man that I want him to be. I make love to him but am thinking of another. and it’s more pain for me than it is pleasure for him. my body I use to satisfy him and his words he uses to break my spirit. In defense, he chides me to crash my ego that he can’t stand and he succeeds to make me a sub. I have my few victorious moments but one comment on my lack of expertise in bed crash me. I am no longer the woman that walked in through that door.


it’s suffocating in here and my lungs are burning up. I close my eyes and imagine a better life for me. nothing of this man makes me happy. All of it hurts and he is almost breaking me. The walls are closing in. The doors and windows are shut. I can’t take this anymore. I have lost this game.

I grab a knife ,anyway, it was never really worth it. Am the child of rape;abused and hated and always second guessing. There Is no longer a point in fighting. It will only be a few minutes and it will be a happy ending.

is this the end of my freedom, my career, my salvation?

I make a hole in the window and a tiny light shines through. I can now breathe again. I run out of the small shanty . it’s again new world out here full of opportunities. I should have broken away before. I should have left you earlier than I did.



By Wambui Ochieng'

Radical Feminist

4 thoughts on “Independence of the Last African Country”

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