If the questions were different.

Why do women stay in abusive marriages?

Was it love or fear or duty or just plain folly?

How do you live with a man that professes love to you one minute and slaps you silly the next?

It baffled me. I just couldn’t understand. My dad never hit my mum much less yell at her. I didn’t see it happening to me either. I wouldn’t take that nonsense.

If you loved me you wouldn’t hit me.

If you loved me you wouldn’t yell at me.

If you loved me, my happiness will be your priority.

So when he hit me and yelled at me and seemed the most joyous at my pains. I packed my bags. It was time to leave.

But they told me not to.

If you leave your husband, who will marry you?

What will happen to your children?

What will people say?

Will you now return to your father’s house?

There are no perfect marriages anywhere, this is your cross, you have to carry it.

He will grow out of it. Just give him time.

And so i stayed.

Even though the arguments were endless and the beatings were consistent.

I still stayed.

Even though the circle was never ending – I say something, he gets annoyed and slaps me, I break down in tears, he does the same and even though we’re both crying, I feel sorry for him, I aplologize, he does the same. And we’re happy again. Till he’s unhappy again.

I start to make excuses for him.

Maybe if I didn’t ask him why he was home so late.

Maybe if I talked less and listened more.

Maybe if I prepared his meals in time.

Maybe if I became his mother, wife, slave,  friend, cook, cleaner, plaything. All at once.

Maybe if I let go of my pride,dignity, opinions, needs.

Just maybe, he will learn to love me.

Maybe that’s what marriage is all about. Sacrifice. Servitude.  Suffering.

What if the questions had been asked differently the first time he cracked my ribs.

If you die, who will take care of your children?

Who will bury your father?

Who will teach your daughter that love is never made by fist throwing punches and words causing scars?

Who will teach your son that women are not in any way lesser than men and a man’s strength was not displayed by oppressing others?

After all is said and done, the sanctity of life far exceeds the shame of a broken marriage.

***                   ****.               ****

What would you do? Or what would you advice your sister/friend/daughter to do?

Would be nice to know your thoughts


I’m stronger than I think

I’ve been eating a lot lately, daddy will be proud, and drinking too, coffee, and needing notepads, empty ones with glitters.

They say the same kind of evil doesn’t happen twice to the same person. They were wrong. It happened twice. The first time, I thought h it was cute, I even wrote about it , you know, I was simply deepening my well of experience and gathering real life stories to tell my children but then it happened again and this time it was neither funny nor cute, it was bad and embarrassing and it hurt. It wasn’t the kind I wanted to write about. And that’s not what this is about. This is about my accelerated eating habits and drinking massive amounts of coffee and needing plenty blank notepads.

But at least I’m writing and I’m happy and I even sang last night never mind that the person I was singing to was sound asleep and Etisalat was busy laughing at me.

I was happy and I sang.

When you’re happy and you sing, everything becomes insignificant.

It’s like a magic potion. Happiness and singing.


I’m hungry again.