RABIAT'S DIARY

JULY 9

For the past eight months since I left Mohammed's house with my divorce letter, no one seemed to be 'mad· enough to get serious with me. Mohammed had already frightened me by being one person before we got married, and turning out to be another afterwards.

Then Mahmud frightened me once again by not willing to forget about my first marriage and the fact that he had felt betrayed and couldn·t forgive.

Perhaps I should be clearer.

The fact of life is that all second marriages must have to adjust to the idea that the previous marriage had existed, and in the majority, an adjustment is made.

The truth is time would distance us from our past.

Yes, I have believed that after second marriage, this time to Mahmud, Sulieman, or any other person, the first one would just fade away. That was what Mahmud had failed to understand. It had not been easy for him to understand that. What a marriage my last marriage had been! I cannot stop thinking of it as I write; I remember how furious I had been those times. No, I must stop.

Its pointers worries about the past and anyway I am sure that sort of happening would turn out to belong to just that.

The past.

I have had my first ray of hope to love again with the appearance of Mahmud and Sulieman almost at the same time. That had been consoling until I found out that even though I had admirers, half of the people I knew were bent on convincing me to give my last marriage another chance.

JULY 11

As I blossomed into a more beautiful and less burdened kind of woman, I felt mature and blessed. I even decided it was important to make a more fashionable impression. So I had sown so many tie-and dye materials. "You look much better these days, Rabiat!" People complimented me. Even mother commented on my new self. Poor woman! She had seemed relieved I had stood my Grounds. She actually hated squabbles. She had a quiet attitude to life. She blamed people for dragging an issue for a long time. "Rabiat, how lovely you look," commented Suleiman, my other admirer, when he came visiting.

As a relation of my mother's, he doesn't have to stay in the sitting room or outside like Mahamud; he goes right into my mother's room most times.

He is no stranger in the house. Infact, I had severally spent time trying to figure out whom I ought to take more seriously between Mahmud and Sulieman. Time would tell, I used to say to myself.

I loved Mahmud because he was my first love and Suleiman because I know he does care very much regardless of my past. In fact, comparing Mohamed and Suleiman to me is like comparing kalangu and goge music.

They all serve as musical entertainment but appeal to the audience in different ways. I remember the time Mahmud got angry over my being addressed as 'Mrs. Mohammed ' He had shouted,

"Bloody women! Bloody hell!" I know men and women are utterly different but sometimes the little similarities of behaviour makes me wonder if the differences are as great as everyone says they are.

JULY 15

We soon reconciled afterwards. But only partly. Suleiman, on the other hand, keeps asking me to consider his proposal of marriage if really in truth I do love him as he loves me.

Mama dares me to marry one of them if really I am sure of not wanting to go back to Mohammed.

What she doesn't know about my state of mind is that giving chances and getting to understand the person's aim require more patience, that the only way I could cope with my life at present is to keep going steadily towards my goal which is towards a less burdensome marriage , if ever there could be such thing.