I met him and we fell deep in love. He was so caring, gentle and loving. He was handsome, a prince among men. I felt so loved n special, all my friends were envious. He was perfect.
The first time it happened I couldn’t believe it. He asked me something I can’t remember what but I remember I thought that it was something that was none of his business. I answered rudely saying it was none of his business. That's when he slapped me. I was in so much shock I didn’t even cry or scream.
I walked out of that house vowing never to come back. I went to my gal's house to plot my way forward .he found out where I was. He sent me flowers, tried to call. Then he sent me a card saying "am sorry baby I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you. Come let me make it up to you. I will never ever hit you again. Come home baby."
I thought about it, prayed. I remembered the good times and I couldn’t believe that he would hurt me again. I knew him; he was one of the good guys. I went back and he was my old love, my best love. And that’s how it all began.
I know you think am naive, going back to him after he slapped me. I guess you would have told me to run as fast as my legs would take me. But if you did I wouldn’t have listened. My friend tried to tell me that it was just the beginning but I didn’t listen.
Things were pretty calm again. He never hit me again. At least not until after we were married. He had gone out one night and came home drunk. I was 6 months pregnant, and didn’t want to go out so I went to bed early. He came home at 2. I guess he was expecting me to be up waiting for him to come so I open the door. He knocked furiously on the door but I was deep in sleep so I didn’t hear him.
He called me on the cellphone. When I came to open the door he was spitting mad. He slapped me, asked me what kind of a wife I was, sleeping when her husband is knocking on the door. I tried to tell him I was resting. That made him see red.
He punched me in the breasts and then kicked me. I fell to the ground and started screaming. I felt pain in my abdomen. God was I losing my baby. I started screaming at him that I was losing the baby.
As if in a trance he switched back to my love. He told me he was so sorry. He couldn’t believe that he had done such a thing. “Baby it was the alcohol,” he told me. He wept as he drove me to the hospital.
“Baby am so sorry. The devil entered me. Forgive me baby I never meant to hurt you.” He chanted over and over.
When I reached the hospital I was taken to emergency. The doctor looked me over and asked me what had happened. I looked at my husband. He looked so helpless and sorry. He could not have meant to hurt me or our baby.
I lied, never knowing that that would be the first lie in a series of lies to come. That this would be my first visit to the hospital and not the last.
"your lucky you almost had a miscarriage. Be very careful that you don't trip again" The doctor told me that I needed to be on bedrest in hospital for a week so I was admitted for observation.
My husband came to see me everyday asking for forgiveness. He promised that he would never hurt me again. I didn't know whether I believed him. I was pregnant and had no job. Where was I going to go?
I didn't know what to do and I knew I couldn't go back home to my parents who were poor and could not afford to feed two extra mouths. They were so excited when I married a man they considered very well off.
So I went back home after one week to my husband. I thought he had learnt his lesson when I almost lost the baby. He was so loving and so excited when we got a son Kevin. Kevin was the light of my life. Spoiled but sweet. We had another child after that, a girl called Mercy.
Most of the time things were good but sometimes my husband would get into a rage, hitting and punching me. Once he broke three of my ribs and another knocked out two of my front teeth. He always took me to hospital and paid the bills. I used to tell the doctor that I was a klutz so clumsy and accident prone tried to leave sometimes but he always came begging me or my family to give him another chance.
Things came to a head when Kevin was in primary at around six years of age. We were called to Kevin's school and told he had beaten up a girl who had taken his book. In the headmasters office my husband brushed it off as a minor incidence. “that's just how boys are. Sometimes they like to fight. It doesn't mean he is bad.”
I told Kevin off for beating a girl. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “then if it's bad to hit a girl why does dad beat you? I was too embarrassed to reply. But as I looked from father from son I had an insight. I saw what my son would become one day to another woman if I didn't do something.
My husband dropped us home after verbally abusing Kevin for discussing home issues in public. He also told Kevin to expect a beating when he got home. He wasn't angry because Kevin had beaten up the girl but because of saying infront of the headmaster and teacher that his father beat me.
I waited for my husband to leave and then I went and packed my clothes and those of my children. I went into the wardrobe and removed a stash of cash I had hidden and a bank account card.
I told Kevin we were going visiting and we needed to get his sister from school. Without looking back at the big house with beautiful furniture and everything a gal could dream of, I closed the door to my nightmares and opened a gate to a new life.
I wasn't going back to my parents because my husband would find me there. But i had made a friend who my husband didn't know about. She had seen what my husband had done to me on numerous occasions and she had told me if i ever needed a place to stay I could go stay with her.
I know this will be hard. But in the end to save my children who I love more then myself its time to get out. Am praying to God for strength to help me do what I have to do for my children.