How many times have I been down this road? How many times have I vowed that what was going to be the last time? For how long will I let myself down?
Its my fourth time in he hospital. My face filled with bruises and my bedsisde table filled with fresh, brightly colored roses bursting with life and tons of get well cards.
I am in a private room of course with a sign reading no visitors allowed because you see my husband is a respected man in the society. No one must know. He is the golden man. Handsome and filled with charisma. He emits power and respect that makes everyone who stands before him want to stand stairghter and to always refer to him as Mister or Mkubwa. I am of course the regal poised wife who always smiles politely and makes every woman wish to be me.
At least this time I managed to let my sister know where I was. Lonliness can be too much sometimes that I would rather have my sister tell me I told you so than to stare at the blinding white of the hospital walls keeping me captive.
I tell myself that I dont know how things got bad or what changed but deep down I know its a lie. I know exactly what happened. I was not blind; I just chose to look the other way. I didn't want to be the fool who let the man with great potential go. I was momentarily blinded by stupid hope for a happy ever after where the frog turns into a fine prince after seeing the errors of his ways and whisks my away into a golden sunset.
It all started by a remark that seemed harmless, then an insult followed by lavish gifts. Time came with money, prosperity and of course arrogance and the rest was history.
I knew I was in trouble but how could I leave when he was running for office? Then I was the lady besides mheshimiwa. Another name for a puppet. "How can you leave mheshimiwa?" They say. "You have everything. Stop whining and count your blessings" Well my blessings landed me here with more than a broken bone and no self worth.
I blame myself. I was warned more than once but I was too head strong. You see I was in love. The roses, the gifts and the sweet words made things a little confusing.Its been years; almost half of my life gone like dew before the morning sun. I have forgoten how to laugh and how to live. I hope its not too late for me to pick up the little pieces that are still left.