Survivor story as told to Sheila Brenya

The very worst part of my life has been like a shattered dream. Looking back into the past and having to pick up the pieces of my life to start all over again is painful but necessary. It is only by doing this that I will know how far I have traveled.

The abuse started with just a slap. It was in 1974 when we were just four months into our marriage. We had moved in to stay with his parents; little did I know my mother-in-law was an abuser. Day and night I had to swallow each and every abusive word she used against me.

One day I talked to my husband about it and he got furious and slapped me. “Even if my parents are like dogs, when they come to bite say hello to them,” he said. He later apologized and I forgave him. The next time I tried to raise that issue again the slap was harder and accompanied by a kick. I couldn’t believe this was coming from someone I trusted and loved enough to marry.

Six months into the marriage I became pregnant with our first child. But being pregnant did not stop my husband from raising his hand against me. Just carrying this baby gave me a false sense of hope that things would change.

The day I had my baby he never showed up at the hospital. I had no money pay the hospital bills, my sister had to chip in for me. Just before I was discharged he was jailed for seven years for handling stolen goods. I moved into a two-bedroom apartment and looked for a job as a part-time teacher. 

After many years he showed up again and I took him in. After some few days he told me he had a piece of land in Mombasa and wanted us to go and develop it, but when we got there I realized it was a lie, he did not even have a house there. I had to continue with the teaching to pay our rent and put food on the table because he did not have a job and has never worked since we got married. 

The abuse started again, this time it was worse. He would come home drunk and sleep around with the housemaids and then afterwards come to sleep with me. One day I refused and he beat me up properly. He refused me to go back to Nairobi, after my parents insisted that I come back. Anytime they spoke with him and his parents they would deny everything, which was followed by more beatings. I was brought up in a family were one is not supposed to speak when an elder is speaking, so I couldn’t say anything. 

Not long after this he left us again for six years and during that period I had my second son with another man. I had made up my mind to marry this man because I was so sure my husband was not going to show up again. Unfortunately he did, not bothering to know if the second child was he’s or not. As usual he was apologetic and I took him in again. When he said he wanted a third child I agreed to it. The day I had my girl he went into hiding again. Anytime I sent my son for shopping he would be waiting for him in the neighborhood and collect the change from him. Sometimes he would come home and search the house for the money I had hidden. He would take all of it away, leaving us with nothing. He had no empathy for the trauma I was enduring or no comfort. Money and food was hard to come by, I had to conquer fear on a daily bases. When I tried to stop him he kicked me so hard I almost broke my neck. 

I decided I couldn’t take it anymore so I packed and left with my children for Nairobi. After two months he followed us, stayed for a week and disappeared again.

I was sick and exhausted to the very core of my being. I had sleepless nights, muscle and joint pain, struggling to raise three children alone. I almost gave up on life, but my children were my motivation to get well, be strong and move on. My teaching job was not bringing in enough money; I did everything within my reach to make some money. Sometimes I would go to Namanga on the Kenya-Tanzania border to buy fabric which landed me into prison several times.

After eight good years he came back. I ignored his lies, and he started sleeping around with the maids again, right in front of my eyes. For that period he lived with us I had changed housemaids twenty-five times, because he would fire any maid who refused to sleep with him. I gave him some money to start up a business but he finished it, and kept on telling me he was waiting for a ‘big deal’ with some businessman. For some reason, this never affected my children as they ignored his behavior and never embraced him as their father. He was meeting my daughter for the first time as a teenager since he left when she was in nursery school, but she had no interest in him. My daughter asked him to his face, “Is this the kind of father I’ve been longing for?” He left after that and was in and out of the house.

When my first-born son was getting married in 2002, he showed up, and after buying him clothes for the wedding he had insisted on attending, he disappeared. After the wedding he came back, but this time I had no second thoughts. I had taken the responsibility to take control of my life and my happiness for both my children and myself. It took courage from within to confront him and order him out of the house. I did not want to leave half a life anymore. My children were also furious with him and told him to leave. Amazingly, he was gone!

The shadow that had covered me for so long lifted. No more heart-pounding fear when I heard the door unlock late at night, no more bruises, explosive accusations and insults. I was free! Am no longer the person I used to be before, I am an independent woman. Today I know who I am, what I want and what I deserve. I am very grateful for many things in my life: My first son is a preacher, my second son is a manager at Uchumi supermarket and my girl has just finished form four. I am now enjoying the fruits of my labour. I am also grateful for the emotional support I get from family members and friends, and most importantly, I have self-respect.