“I hate you mom! I don’t believe that you love me! If you did, why would you change my school? And you know that I love KCC so much”…..and the tantrum continued. The 13 year old girl beside him was also crying and weeping. Their father had changed their school without warning, and the mention of KCC for some reasons I cannot understand sounded like venom to his ears, despite all my pleas, which he took pleasure in ignoring, and adding the usual stream of verbal abuses that I have so gotten used to.
This has been going on for a week.
How was I supposed to explain the economical crisis ongoing to a 6-year old boy and a 13-year old girl? I was clueless, I was fed up, my mind kept searching for the exact offence I committed before God for my own son to say such words. My legs were hurting as I sat down on the couch and life flashed before my eyes……rewind to 2012.
My first daughter fell sick with malaria; she was still adjusting to the new climate. I hated seeing her sick, but I had no choice then. I was serving and my two girls were at the mercy of my husband’s aunt who, well did not deal very kindly with my girls.
Especially my firstborn, who at the moment was still adjusting to the harsh reality that tore at her innocent heart each day.
Okay, back to the present.
My firstborn is now in her early twenties. Even though she sounds so happy when she talks with me on the phone, I still hear and feel the fear in her voice. All the years of my husband and I gradually growing apart had more effect on her than I got to know, and when I did, it was too late. I raised a quiet, very self-reserved young woman who till today is scared of her father.
I never saw it coming, I don’t know why. She is so talented, so respectful, but so afraid. She got so many awards which I never witnessed. Oh, the many things we do as parents that we have no idea of how it influences our kids! Right now I wish I never came back home. I find myself trapped in a marriage to a man I love, the father of my four kids who sees me as his worst enemy, who does not listen to me.
A man who finds it difficult to admit his wrongs and who does not mind slapping me in front of my children. (He actually did that in the public on the road). Many times I just, “persevere” to thwart the chances of the Enemy getting a foothold in my home. I have forgiven him, I still love him-but I don’t trust him. I hear voices at times, sometimes it’s hard to know when God speaks or when I am being tormented. And he’s not helping.
I get back to the present; I am sitting on the couch, almost dozing, silver streaks in my long hair due to stress (I am only 42 years old), my son sitting across me absorbed in a book, his tantrum long gone. Hubby is around, but as usual he is busy in the hospital.
The ever-good Doctor, full of advice to the world yet not slow to activate his “Moses anointing”to his own family. Especially to me. My thoughts go to all my kids; from my firstborn, whom I regret raising in fear to her more outspoken sisters and brother.
I will do everything I can to make sure they don’t end up this way. This is not life, but I will survive. They want to kill me and take over everything I worked for with my husband. But my God will fight for me.
By the way, my name is Queen, I am a graduate of Economics from a prestigious university in Eastern Europe, I had every opportunity to work in a high-paying financial institution but I left it because of my children-and my husband.
And I am a victim of life, love and strife. This is my story. May it not be yours
May your life be good and sweet, and may another soul not make you sin before your God in the name of love. Farewell.
-Efunnuga Henrietta Adedayo