Rejected and alone

Note: Real names have been withheld.

I was a form two student when I became pregnant. I had a boyfriend, Mwangonji, who was a few years older than me and had already finished high school. He was my first love, and the only love I would ever know in my life.

My staunch churchgoing parents were furious about the pregnancy. They could not understand how their young daughter could bring such shame to the family. ‘Not after all the things they had taught her’. They viewed my pregnancy as a sign of outright defiance, bordering on immorality. To save face, I was ordered to go bring the father of the baby to discuss marriage before the pregnancy started showing.

Mwangonji called me names when I told him that I was pregnant and my parents wanted us to get married. He said I was a prostitute and asked me how I could tell he was the father of the baby since I had ‘slept with so many boys’. I was a virgin when I met him, and he knew that. I was devastated. I had given this man with emotions, my mind and my body. How could he call me a prostitute?

I went back home and told my parents that Mwangonji had refused to accept responsibility, hoping for sympathy from them, but again I was wrong. My parents literally threw me out of the house to go look for Mwangonji and ‘make him marry me’.

With my small bag of clothes,! appeared at his doorstep thinking he would soften up but he didn’t, I only succeeded in eliciting more insults from him. I was totally lost. I did not know what to do. I ended up at a relative’s house. My stay was short-lived; the relative kicked me out because of the threats he got from my own father. My sisters who could have assisted were ‘forbidden’ from coming anywhere near me lest I ‘infect’ them with my bad manners. I was so lonely.

I rented a room at the shopping centre near home. I did odd jobs to try and make ends meet but it was a struggle; what with the baby coming! I spent numerous nights crying. My chief priorities were food and shelter.

After the baby came, life became even tougher. I gave birth to a healthy baby girl, Mari. It was hard for me to get the odd jobs with the baby and yet I desperately needed the money. I couldn’t even manage to pay someone to look after the baby for me while I worked.

Then I met Jonah, a man who sympathised with my plight. It wasn’t long before my emotions got the better of me. Jonah professed his love for me and I allowed him into my life. He told me he could take care of me and my baby. He was good and kind and supported us. He loved my daughter very much. At last I had some peace. The only thing I found wanting was the way he came to see us twice or thrice a week.

This relationship went on well for two years until I became pregnant again. Jonah was obviously not happy. He wondered why I did not take any precaution to protect myself. He told me, ‘June, people don’t just have babies without a plan.’

Even though he did not deny being the father of the baby I could see he was quite apprehensive. Jonah and I had never discussed our relationship but I assumed that we were living as ‘husband and wife’ and would eventually get married. When I told him so, that’s when he hit me with the cold truth—he already had a wife! Much as I was stunned, I told him I was willing to become his second wife but he flatly refused. He said he was not the sort of man to have two wives. I was devastated. How could I have been such a fool?

That is when I procured my first abortion, it was a horrifying experience. The baby came out in my house and I had to dispose of it myself in the night. Although it was years ago, it feels as if it was yesterday. That is something you never forget. Jonah had given me the funds for the abortion, but did not care to know the details. He lingered around for about a year. In that year his visits became fewer and fewer. Finally he stopped coming to my house altogether. I had seen it coming so it didn’t take me by surprise when it happened. My daughter Mari was then 5 years old and I was still doing odd jobs.

Then one day an old friend, Muna, came to see me. She told me about an easier way of life. She introduced me to the streets. At first I was repulsed by the idea, but she persisted. Her life looked so much better than mine. She was a single mother of two and looked happy. Reluctantly I gave in.

The first experience was horrible. I was quite terrified. I had two clients who were elderly men. They were drunk and smelt terrible. But at the end of it I had two thousand shillings in my pocket. ! swore I would not go back. But I went back again and again.

Although I enjoyed the money, I felt dirty inside. Would God ever forgive me? Then I became really angry with my parents and with God for abandoning me. I became so angry that I thought drinking would help me ‘hit back’ at those who hurt me. At first I only drank one or two bottles a night. Then it came to a point where I could not face clients if I had not taken any alcohol. I started with beer and then graduated to hard liquors and eventually drifted to illicit brews like chang’aa owing to the cost.

My life was on a downward spiral but I didn’t care, I had to survive. Although I was on contraceptives, I occasionally conceived; I can’t even tell the number of abortions I had.

When my daughter was 10 years old, I became pregnant again. This time I kept the baby. It was a beautiful boy and I named him Kamiti. By this time I knew that I was never going to get married. So I thought it was better to have two children. All this time, I was alienated from my family. I knew they didn’t care. I stopped going to the streets, but I nonetheless had sex; eventually I did not even want payment. I was on a self-destruction mission.

Today I reflect back and wonder: why didn’t anybody care about me? Why did I have to pay so dearly for a mistake I made when I was only 16 years old? WHY?

END: PG8/40-41