My confused blog on polygamy

I was once in a situation where my Husband, [who is now my ex] wanted to get a second wife. He told me about it like this, ' im embarking on a journey, im looking for a second wife. You will always have the first place in my heart but i am a man, i need more.... look at the upside, at least i wont be cheating and you will have company.' He then talked about how our Family would be stronger and since i was the first wife i would always have the upper hand. He told me that according to religion it was more pious for me to help him in his search, that way we could both approve of the woman and he went out of his way to make me understand that i would be fully involved. He told me to feel free to voice any doubts i had over the matter and he assured me that if i disapproved he would not marry the woman. I didnt really have a say in the matter and i knew it so i listened and accepted.

The next few weeks are a blur...We met with several women until he finally decided on one, her name was Khadija. Khadija lived somewhere in buruburu with her family so we went over there to visit. Khadija cooked all sorts of treats from pilau to lamb, her family went out of their way to reiterate that she would make a great wife. She was beautiful, intelligent and although she came from a poorer background than he was accustomed to, was what in Islam would be considered a pious woman. I watched my husband flirt with her... i watched him talk to her... i watched him coyly smile at her when he thought i wasn't looking. I had bitterness in my heart but i convinced myself that i loved him and i wanted what was best for him. I was six months pregnant, i was tired, i was bitter, i was always avoiding my husband because he was extremely abusive. i thought that perhaps, if i let him marry this second woman, maybe he would leave me alone. It seemed to make him happy for a little while and if nothing else it diverted the attention from me.During this 'courtship' he tried to keep me happy because, after all, he had said that if i refused he wouldn't do it. He never did marry her...they did the dowry negotiations and everything but for some reason it didn't work out. As for me i left him when i gave birth.

Now you might criticize me for never doing anything and you might wonder why i sat there and took it and you might even think i am the dumbest person alive, but i will tell you that in that moment there was a lot against me. There was my mother and my mother in law, they had watched him beat me repetitively and they kept trying to re assure me. They would tell me that marriage was hard and i had to sacrifice and compromise. They thought it was ok for him to get a second wife too so that made it hard for me to say no. There was the fact that i was pregnant and scared to lose the baby. There was the religion, i was very Muslim and i wanted to do whats right in Allah's eyes, my husband was an imam in the mosque so all his friends had three or four wives. There was the fact that i thought my life was over...he always told me i wouldn't be able to live without him. There was the tiny issue of age i was barely seventeen. I was just confused.

All i can really say for sure is there is nothing worse than watching a man want another woman, its an emotional roller coaster. Your not sure whether to cry or laugh, you wonder if you are wretched for hating her and being secretly jealous.Questions run through your mind like does he really love you? is he thinking of her when he is in bed with you? what will the future be like for your children? will he be there for yours like he is for hers? will he favor her children financially over yours? Maybe he will love her more maybe she will be better in bed... will he cry on her shoulder or will he beat her like he does you? you wonder about a lot of stuff. Kudos to the women who can take it. I cant.

I have no stance on polygamy i just know its not right for me. That i know for sure. Now It took alot to write about this so please be kind with your comments.

hello...?

Have i mentioned yet that im frustrated because nobody seems to be writing? well i have made a concious effort to illicit some form of response and i hope it works... I have read alot of poetry i even started writing a few pieces...they went like:

if you dont write
i will put up a fight
im flying a white kite
im trying to show you the light
knowledge is tight
if you dont write im gonna go pint
PLEASE SOMEBODY WRITE

you ever notice how kenyans just seem to need an excuse to drink...thanksgiving seemed to be one of those occasions... i have hanged so much i feel like im almost fifteen again skyving from home to hang for four days straight with my pals just because its a big holiday...And i love the guys im hanging with i really do its just that i know from experience that they dont really care about me...especially snce they dont really know me and they are after all trying to get laid...luckily for me i always manage to put myself in a position where its really difficult for them to mess with me and that way i have more fun than the whole lot of them...I wish it did not have to be this way though...why cant we just take care of each other?

Anyway my trust for people and my respect has been shoved aside now i look at the world though my distrustful shades... lol

My life my story

I was born in Marta hospital... My birth certificate reflected only one parent, my lovely mother. My life began in Peponi a small neighborhood in Westlands, Nairobi, Kenya. I lived here for four or five years I think and then we moved to hurlingham,my mother her boyfriend and I. This boyfriend of hers was a brute, he was about 6 foot 300 pounds with unkempt hair and he was white.

My mother always seemed to have an aptitude for those kinda guys. This guy spent his time trying to find ways to make my life a living hell and he succeeded most of the time. This was partly because my mom, for the umpteenth time, thought she was in love. My mother and him would travel, buy me toys from Europe, break them, put them loosely back together and then beat me up when they fell apart again.

This relationship was probably the longest one I have ever known my mother to have, but then again maybe it seems really long because I was miserable. Eventually after the guy finished spending my mom's money he figured it was time to move on, after all the well was now dry. I remember that day clearly, I was probably 5 or 6, my mom was crying...No screaming is more like it and the guy, with his torn shirt and his torn pants [probably because of my mom] was trying to leave. I have to admit...I was kinda happy that he was leaving, I just didn't know what to do about my heartburning mother.

My grandmother came and whisked me away shortly after that, I loved my grandma so I didn't question that decision... I spent a month with her eating well and growing fat then finally I had to go home again. At this point we had moved to satellite because my mother had spent all her money flying her boyfriend to and from Europe. When we got home I was surprised.....My mother had changed... Her slight figure was slighter, her face drawn and gaunt she reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. Even through all of this I was glad to see her. I love her to bits.

I spent the next few years struggling to get through school, my mom would come from work and go to the bar, with me... And then I would have to wake up and wake my mother up clean her and cook her breakfast and then prepare for school and finally leave.... I got through most of school on the mercy of my teachers. I had really good grades so they would let me stay in class while other people were being dismissed because they hadn't paid their fees, and when my mother finally owed them too much for them to ignore it she would simply transfer me to a different school.

On the days that my mother did not come home and drag me with her to the bar after work, she didn't come home at all. In fact there were times that I didn't see her for days on end, as I grew older that changed to weeks on end. She would eventually come back in the same clothes she had left with one or two weeks earlier and I would be ecstatic. A lot of those times I would sleep at the neighbor's because I had nowhere to go. They would feed me and take care of me, I love and appreciate all those people who took care of me.

I was about 8 years old when the rest of my family caught onto my mother's behavior, I don't know what happened exactly but my aunts drove up to her little shanty kiosk in kawangware and yelled at her about taking me to the bar, and not paying my school fees, and alot of other stuff that I cant really remember... My mum responded by telling them that if they thought it was so easy why didn't they just take me. They did. This was the beginning of the most interesting years of my childhood aunts would take me to the Mara and to Mombasa and to all these wonderful places...Every holiday would be an adventure. I like to say that during the holidays I would grow really fat only to lose the fat when I went back to my mom's for the school terms.

My grandmother died when I was 9 and that was really sad for me, about a year later my mother and my aunts fell out again and so the wonderful adventures ended. At this point I was kinda tired of my mother's behavior so I told her to give me a key and I told her that when I turned 10 I wanted one wish. She said I could have anything as long as it was in her power and it wasn't material. So when I turned 10 I told my mother I did not wanna go out anymore and I didn't. After that I hardly ever went to the bar with my mum. I lost my key several times and slept at the neighbor's, many times she didn't show up and I would go hungry... I remember one time I had no food and there was only sugar and breadcrumbs in the cupboard so I mixed that with water and ate it.

This went on for several years and its actually a really long story but I wanna jump forward to my early teens. I read alot...ALOT.. I started reading at the national library finished reading the children's section, moved on to McMillan finished the children's section. Started reading from the adults section under my moms name until they finally stopped me because the figured that out. When I was 14 my school offered me a scholarship for highschool which I needed because I knew there was no way my mother was gonna pay for it especially since she hardly even paid for my primary education.

At about the same time my mum got a new boyfriend, we had just moved to woodley. This guy was a real 'looker' he was ugly really ugly, but once again she thought she was in love. I was at a very important juncture in my life and my mother's new distraction was really not helpful especially since they started doing drugs. One night after they had a fight in the bar and the guy came home alone, to cut the long story short the guy made a pass at me... Ok maybe it was more serious than that, and I ran away. My mother found me later that week I explained what happened and she didn't believe me. She said that I was just trying to spoil her relationship. So I ran away again.


I spent the next 3 months learning, the hard way, about life. I spent my time partying and drinking hoping that by the end of the night I would have somewhere to sleep... The thing about Kenyans is they are always willing to buy you a drink so I had no problem drinking and eating but I was really innocent, I did not realize that men bought you drinks so that they could score. I got raped several times, by people who I thought were my 'friends'. I slept out on the streets several times, basically I grew up. Eventually I went home, this was after I heard that the guy had gotten into some trouble with the cops and that my mom had left him.

The next years of my life were quite sad...I was traumatized about the incidents I had been through. I didn't trust anyone. My mother said the look in my eye changed she said that I was no longer the child she once knew I was the woman she had yet to know. I got into a relationship after that, this relationship lasted three years, it was an abusive relationship but he was my only friend,I had my first son who died four days after he was born, I left him when I had my second son. I love my son to bits he motivated me to aim high, I got my first job, it was a really nice job too and I continued working did several other things.

I am grateful to Allah and then to every person who has made an effort to get to know me, every person who has listened to me, every person who has been there for me, every person who has appreciated me, I haven't forgotten anyone and I am grateful to my mother who believes in me now and who taught me about life, I love her and cherish her and I appreciate every minute she spent with me and I am grateful to you, for reading my story . I might have forgotten their names but I will never forget them. Now im trying to complete school, trying to finish what I wasn't able to finish before, for myself but more so for my son my son has been, since then my love, my blessing, my motivation, my life my happiness, my joy the reason I strive the reason im a hopeful kenyan.

me

I remember once i was innocent,
Once i had life
I was young and free and happy,
Once i had dreams,
Dreams that were free of doubt,
Dreams that seemed possible,
Once i thought that life was easy,
Nothing was impossible,
Once i thought that my life was perfect,
I had no worries,
Once i thought that everyone was innocent,
No one meant any harm,
Once i thought the world was without evil,
That everybody was good,
Everything once was in black and white,
Nothing has changed there is just a new grey area in between.