One Day You Will Look Back And Laugh

Chapter 1

I have always lived in a cocoon, a space created by myself for myself. Because of this people always assumes that I am an incredibly soft and shy person though there is more to me than that but isnt it like that with everyone ? No one is really what they seem, ever.

They are either really good at hiding it or have gotten so used to it they sub-consciously hide, then bring out their true personality depending on the situation.

I do thaat too, though with more consciousness. But before I continue rambling on, I would like to introduce myself first to whoever even reads this.

Hello, my name is Keturah Khomang. Funny story, the name 'Kethurah' means fragrance in Hebrew. My parents are awfully religious people, though having very little to ones' name growing up in a poor village, clinging to even a little bit of hope can do wonders to make a person actually be willing to struggle, to try to live and survive. Which is not always a bad thing, just a little reason to try a little harder can be so effective, I should know. But I digress, back to the topic at hand, my name was chosen when my mother had almost lost her life while giving birth to me. She told me that just as she was near giving up, a whiff of fragrance that she had never smelled before surrounded her. She said that it gave her a strange feeling like 'something that felt warm but cold at the same time. Like a comforting embrace shared by two people at the very brink of a horrible tragedy.' She was soon snapped back into reality when she heard the crying of a baby. Her baby. 

How we both survived this ordeal still amazes everyone who hears of it. The only 'doctors' available at the time were women who had experience in giving birth and helping in giving birth, with no tools except prayers. 

Pretty cheesy story if you ask me but my mother loved telling it and I loved listening to her talk of something so fondly that it causes her face to glow and light up with happiness so I would sit on her lap as she held me and retold the story for the hundredth time in a row.

They have high expectations of me, their eldest daughter, to become the next bread earner and support the family.

My parents are farmers, a noble profession if I was to state my opinion but this doesn't ensure a steady income in a developing country, much less one of the most backward areas of the country.

They payed through the skin of their teeth to get me through school, but after that I had several part-time jobs to get through collage and I happened to secure a scholarship for a university in Germany in the linguistic department. The day I left I saw my mother crying her eyes out and holding me like she did years ago. My dad and sister were looking at me with so much pride in their eyes. He came forward, congratulated me and handed me some money, apparently they had been saving this for as long as they could without my knowledge.

I wanted to cry out to them and tell him to keep the money, to not waste anything on me but save all they could for themselves because once I leave they would never see me again. I wanted to tell them not to be so proud of me or look at me with that much love but I did not. I just took the money, grabbed my belongings (which was not much as I left almost everything for my 2 year old sister), gave them the tightest hug I could muster and told them that I loved them. 

I left that day, with tears in my eyes  and did not even look back. I have a plan set before me and I have no intention of losing sight of it. I am going to make sure my parents and sister live the most comfortable life, even beyond their wildest dreams. Make sure there is enough to settle them comfortably all their lives as well as all my sister's, then I was going to disappear, forever.