Shadows Unveiled

A Union of Convenience

Night after night, I return home past midnight without anyone questioning my whereabouts for an entire year. Just as I started to piece together fragments of my shattered consciousness, shadows of negativity crept in once again. Residing at home wasn't my initial preference, yet Mama's persuasive words highlighted the looming threat of Jethro potentially tracing my whereabouts after establishing he was not at peace with our separation. As if to compound the adjustments, my bedroom remained empty following my sister's departure to live with her husband. Mama set up a salon at the back of our house to support my beloved sister's venture into hairdressing. Meanwhile, my younger sister embarked on her own journey, pursuing her studies in India.

In the midst of turmoil, I was juggling a myriad of tasks, from preparing meals to handling bills. Interestingly, my siblings, who were gainfully employed, were exempt from contributing to these costs. Tensions escalated as Mama demanded that I prepare separate meals for my children due to financial constraints, highlighting that my earnings were three times greater than hers.

Upon returning from work, I developed a strategic routine of bypassing Sherri's house, swiftly preparing ingredients, and making my way home to cook, all in an effort to circumvent any potential clashes with Mama in the kitchen. While, she attended to my brothers, who lounged about waiting, I efficiently managed my own responsibilities. My competence caught her off guard, prompting her to suggest that I share my portion of food with my younger brothers.

In moments of profound difficulty, both my children and I sought solace in tears. Offering reassurance, particularly to my daughter, I would whisper, "It's not forever." My oblivious yet affectionate son remained a steadfast source of comfort amidst the turmoil. Their father's attempts to communicate met the challenge of having only one house phone, stationed in Mama's bedroom, hindering any efforts to connect. Despite my limited understanding of the appropriate conduct following a divorce, I recognized the importance of encouraging children to maintain relationships with both parents. Regrettably, I was made to feel that my decisions were without value. Everything I said or did was dismissed as inconsequential. 

 In this environment, I was stripped of my autonomy, reduced to childlike status, unable to make any decisions. This regression into powerlessness intensified my frustration, pressing down on me relentlessly. I found it difficult to adapt, eventually slipping into a profound state of despair. The boys, my brothers had been raised with a troubling sense of ownership over their sisters, making it impossible for my voice to be heard. I felt completely at a loss, unsure of how to escape this suffocating situation. Sister Jud did not make it easier. She developed a troubling habit of buying toys for her son and deliberately provoking tears in my son's eyes when I was away at work. Her unpredictable behavior caused disturbances within the household, yet I consistently bore the brunt of blame for chaos. The road was rough.

In an attempt to address the behaviour, the shock on Sister Jud and her son's faces was palpable when I arrived home with a shiny new bicycle for my son. To further emphasize my point, the next day I surprised my daughter with her own bike as well. Despite the myriad challenges we encountered, one constant remained—the daunting task of handwashing our clothes every Saturday after dismissing the hired help.

Recognizing the need for my children to have a place they could truly call home became increasingly urgent. Amidst my vulnerability, I turned to Mama for support, who comforted me by affirming that our living situation, even with five children, was manageable. Yet, her reassurances hit a wall as the challenges left me feeling swamped.

It was a season of healing, and as I climbed my ranks up the Information Technology office, the frequent counsel and guidance from my colleague, Niva, became my source of solace. Our conversations, filled with insights on overcoming challenges, had a magical healing touch on me. Niva, without a doubt, was the heartthrob of our era, flaunting a well-toned body, footballer legs, and a daily commute to work on his trusty bicycle. With genuine admiration, he had carved a special spot in my heart, becoming that charming presence that added an extra sparkle to my journey of healing.