Tales Of A Broken Woman
“I will not make it!”I whispered to myself.”I will not make it!” I repeated! Then a soothing and calm voice inside me re-assured me by saying, one foot in front of the other, you will make it. My nose was bleeding and my crisp white Tom Ford shirt which I had worn earlier to a meeting at one of the Nation’s Largest Media Houses was changing it’s color to red. My face was swollen and part of my neatly braided hair was off my head.”I will not make it! One foot in front of the other! The cycle continued in my head. It was on this day that I came to terms with the fact that my love with let’s name him Mr.X had turned sour. This was not the first incidence of him abusing me, but it was the first time he abused me physically! Taking a trip down memory lane, the handwriting was on the wall that this would happen one day, but being an African girl, my job was to fix it.
From where I come from in case a relationship went sour, it was the responsibility of the woman to put things in place even though they were not the ones who contributed to the mess in the first place. My village elders would condemn one for leaving their man because he cheated or assaulted them! To add salt to injury they would say if your man hits you, that mean he loves you and that he is only trying to correct you. This was their preposterous belief that was passed down from one generation to the next. In the words of James Boldwing, “Children have never been very good at listening to their elders but they have never failed to imitate them.” This explains the rising numbers of domestic violence cases in the society with the victims specifically women saying nothing about them in this millennial age!
Being the PR guru that I am, I literally started dissecting my situation in the short span of time I had as I pushed my way towards my car putting the pieces together from a logical and factual perspective. My mind has been trained to fix situations without hesitation, and come up with reasonable solutions; in other words I am a fixer, I am the Olivia Pope from Thursday night TV blockbuster, Scandal .I am the commandant of gladiators in Nairobi’s PR scene. Whenever a client walked in, it was my job to tell what they were seeking, know which story to give the media and which to bury, what in my world we call Crisis Management and Media relations. I was so damn good at my job that I applied the work ethoses in my day to day life to my dying relationship. Looking at my social media accounts be it Instagram or facebook, I paraded a fake illusion of a happy relationship with Mr.X. The date nights, the flowers, the romantic quotes of him being my prince charming just to mention but a few. Everyone envied my relationship with him…yes they did, little didn’t they know it was all show-business and I was the PR in charge of a failed relationship with toxic details that were carefully and tactically hidden. I am excellent at my job without doubt as I ensured people saw what I wanted them to see, it was my job, and it was my life…
Thinking of calling my family back in the village was an absolute NO! My mother who would have been the first person on my dial list would come up with phrases like,” let me call his people in Nigeria, these Yoruba boy will act up, let his family deal with him; my daughter go back to your house or do you want another woman to come and overtake your house? Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!”Then she would hang up the phone. Trying to catch my breath, it hit me, the answer to my dilemma of always being broken by the man who claimed to love me struck me like lightening. The world might disagree with what I am about to say, but in this moment, right now it’s just you and I dear reader. From my conclusion, Mr.X was intimidated by the woman I was becoming right in front of his eyes. Intimidation is a key contributor to why grown ass men act like morons and beasts. I am a beautiful and intelligent woman, a pacesetter in my profession and more over I am aware of the goals in my life and strive hard to achieve them unlike my partner Mr.X, who without doubt is still trying to figure himself out.
In the 3 years I had dated him I took care of all the bills, but hid that fact from my family just to save his West-African ego. When I woke up at 3 am to complete a proposal he was either back from the club or making his way out to hang with some friends. My career had seen a tremendous rise from one promotion to the other whereas his video game skills and laptop skills had gained acceleration from his day to day practice. My success as a woman was the essence of the entire emotional, physical and psychological trauma I had to go through, the prize I paid for being a woman who achieved whatever I set my mind to. For every time I made the next multi-million dollar deal at work, something went wrong at home, in every clothe that made me look like a goddess gliding through the my walk of life, I was belittled and made to believe the “theory” that I am a harlot for looking beautiful, for wearing make up to work, for dressing myself elegantly,as I said ‘theory’.
Then the moment of glory dawned upon me in my pain, as I struggled to open the door of my car. I deserved better, I deserved to teach the women that will come after me to take pride in their success and take control of their life. Come on girls! We do not need anyone’s approval to be great; we do not need to trade our greatness for anyone! As long as we continue to be a shield for each other, support each other and love each other endlessly we all have everything we need. So today I have the audacity to write this, flawed and sometimes very afraid, hoping to live brightly to-spite my fears of breaking the rules of being free from an abusive relationship. Not only for me, but for every woman out there! One foot in front of the other, you will make it! You will survive, now you must survive because you have to.
By Daisy Wanzala
I am an enthusiastic Kenyan girl excited about life,love and living through writing, communications, fashion and culture!