Things were never the same

Betrayal

I should've known that white bastard would get his way, I should've known that my resistance wouldn't mean anything.

It never did.

From the moment the white man stepped on to my continent all he ever did was take. Our resources, our culture, our people, our dignity. Especially that of the black woman. Completely stripped into shreds.

Forced to share a bed with him and bare his half breed children.

Though I never imagined my own father would play a role in my dignity being stripped.

African men loved preaching about protectors and providers, yet it was all words. All we were to them was property to be traded.

That's the moment I realised that African woman were on their own. We were always on our own, we had no one to protect us but ourselves. Our men had proven themselves useless,my father had proven himself useless. Nothing more than a lackey for the white man.

There I was an eighteen year old woman, crying my eyes out begging my father not to give me to that man, that devil. No matter what I said or did, he wouldn't change his mind. The white man used his power to get what he wanted. The bride price had been paid.

I was now a married woman.

Technically, though I doubted my dear husband would agree to take part in a traditional ceremony. His ancestors had instilled it in him that he was superior, that his culture was superior.

I suppose on one end of the stick I sort of understood why my father did what he did. He'd lost his farm and livestock, he was penniless. At least with the money he could purchase new land and start a new farm. His farm had always more important than me anyway,I was just another girl child to him, just another disappointment.

I would never forget the look in my mother's eyes the day I was stripped away from her. Pain, betrayal. The man who was supposed to protect us, betrayed us all for money.

Money.

The root of all evil, they said. I disagreed, men. They were the cause of pain and unimaginable suffering. They were the root of all evil.

My husband didn't speak much, though we wouldn't be able to understand each other anyway. So I was stuck on a long bus ride in silence as we went to the capital.

Addis Ababa, was different from everything I was accustomed to. The large buildings, loud traffic, everything. I had only read about it in books, now I was finally seeing it.

I was an awe as we walked into the large hotel. But I was also a little angry. Whilst people in my village struggled to get one meal for the day, the other part of the country lived like this.

Where was the humanity!.

The room we were led to was larger than my entire house. I had never seen a bed that large in my entire life, not even in my life, not even my books. Suddenly a felt a knot in my belly knowing what would happen in that bed.

My husband was speaking to the hotel employee as I just stood there lost, lost like a little girl.

The man nodded before coming to approach me.

"Mam your husband says that you should take a bath, the bathroom is this side". He said pointing to a door.

I nodded before going to and opening the door, absolutely mesmerised by what was behind it. The house I grew up in was fortunate enough to have plumbing but we didn't have a bathtub.

I initially struggled trying to turn the water on, the taps were shaped a different way, everything just so fancy. Though I wasn't going to ask for help it took a little while but I managed. After I was able to get my water right. I stripped my clothes off and jumped into the tub, my body relaxed into the warm water as I reflected on everything that had happened the past few weeks, everything that had led me to this point.

I broke down crying.