I always knew that I would be married off to the highest bidder from a tender age. My mother would always make it her duty or daily task to sit me down and paint it in my head that, when I get old enough to know better, a rich man was going marry me and I was going to live my happily ever after.
But, what my mother never told me was the worst case scenario of being sold to a rich man. Now, here I am, experiencing a different dream from what I was sold. It is all a nightmare! If only they had allowed me to get educated and independent, and not to depend on a man. Then maybe, just maybe, I would be at my happiest as we speak.
At the age of 16, when I was doing Grade 11, I was forced to leave school by my parents and I was married off to a man old enough to be my father. I tried begging my parents not to marry me off, but they did it anyway, despite my tears.
In the marriage, I was literally stripped of everything I knew, and I had to adapt, adjust, and come to terms with my new norm. That norm was for me to share the rest of my life with a wealthy man who had lost with wife, a man I hardly knew, together with his three rude children, one of which was my age and the two others younger than me. I had to get used to how they did things and how to treat my husband. I also had to give my purity to an old man, and all the dreams I had about my career, the dream house, the dream car, the dream job, and the dream love life, were all gone just like that.
I was submissive, hard-working, and loyal, yet I got rewarded with was punches and kicks. The children also fuelled it by always finding faults in everything I did, and sometimes making things up.
After a while, I started getting physically, emotionally, verbally, and even sexually abused by the hands of a man that had promised to protect and take care of me when he took me home. Every week came with a new scar, and they were either physical or spiritual in nature. I became broken minute by minute, and it is still the same way now. But I have actually learned to embrace the pain now, and as sick as what I’m about to say is, I have grown to love the pain instilled in me.
You know what’s crazy? The fact that my parents are condoning all these sinister acts. I used to cry to them until I realised that it was all useless. My mother would always preach “Emendweni kuyabekezelwa mtanami”, and my father would just dismiss me and say I was making up stories to leave my marriage.
What kind of parents do that? Do they hate me that much? What wrong did I ever do to them to deserve such hate?
It gets better! There was this one fateful day when my so called husband lost a big contract at work thanks to his spoiled child, Smilokuhle, throwing a tantrum at his place of work during a meeting, claiming that I had slapped her. My husband lost it with me that day, and I ended up in a coma. I later woke up to the news that I would no longer be able to conceive, and that I had miscarried the child I had been carrying. But that was the last nail in the coffin for me, and the hate I developed for my parents, my husband, and his children crazily increased.
Now, here I am today, 23 years old, and nothing much has changed besides what I am planning to do today. I have been patient for far too long. Well, not anymore! I have been claiming to be okay with everything, hell, I have even been convincing myself that I am okay and that all is well.
Now my question is, what if “okay” is not okay anymore? What if I have taken enough bull and I no longer want to anymore? What then?
I am no longer normal. I am far away from normal, and I am not planning on acting rationally at this point. Rational and Normal do not exist anymore in my vocabulary, and may God forgive me for what is about to happen today.
Tell us: What do you think of this story?