PHOTO | FILE Caroline Bongo, her husband George and their daughters.
NATION MEDIA GROUP
By KINUTHIA MBURU kinuthiamburu@gmail.com, June 19
2013
In Summary
- After surviving an abusive relationship, Caroline Bongo talks about the mistakes she made, and finding true love second time round
Then, she was in an abusive relationship, living
with a man who had no qualms about calling her names or beating her up.
She knew she should have packed up and left before he did more than take
away her self-esteem or give her a few bruises, but she hang on for six
painful years.
She says that the only good thing that emerged
from the relationship was her two older daughters, Kaylene and Melody.
Caroline, who lives and works in Kigali, Rwanda, opens up about the
wrong decisions she made while in this toxic relationship, and the
lessons she learnt.
She shared her story with us from her home.
“I was born in Mboroga, a small village at the
foot of Mount Kenya in Meru, in a family of three brothers and my
younger sister and I. I am the first born. My father, John Muriithi, was
a land surveyor with the government, while my mother, Eunice Muriithi,
was a secondary school teacher. My parents were staunch Christians,
therefore it was no surprise when I became a born-again Christian when I
celebrated my twelfth birthday. My parents worked hard to provide
everything that we needed and, according to village standards, we were
fairly well off.
As I grew up, though, I started to disappoint my
mother repeatedly. It began with small careless incidents like letting
the food burn or leaving my younger siblings on their own when I, as the
oldest one, should have been looking after them.
In 1990, I joined secondary school after scoring
452 points out of 700. In class, I was known for my lack of
concentration, but I somehow managed to score a good enough grade to get
me into Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology,
(JKUAT), where I graduated with a BSc in Horticulture in 1999.
Fall from grace
My downfall began shortly after graduating when I
got a job in Timau as an irrigation supervisor at a horticultural
company. I earned Sh4,500. The money was enough only for house rent and
bus fare, but thankfully, my parents offered to cater for other needs
such as clothes.
Instead of demotivating me, my meagre pay
encouraged me to work harder. I threw myself into work, from Monday to
Sunday. Church became foreign to me. Previously, I reserved time for
daily Bible studies but then, my Bible speedily collected dust.
My circle of friends changed too. Back at the university, I only had born-again friends. In fact, our only greetings were “Bwana Asifiwe — Praise the Lord.” The simple greeting “Hi” was too worldly for us.
At my new workplace, though, dirty talk and
insults were quite common. Initially, I would wince, but with time, I
too began to speak like everybody else. I reasoned that college life was too controlled an environment, and there was no way anyone could live a straight Christian life in the real world. This was the real world.
It is around this time that I met *Jack. He seemed
sober, mature, and reasonable. He was also a quiet and polite man.
Within a short time, our friendship developed into a relationship.
However, I noticed that he liked lying and would lie even when there was
no need to. But I was not overly bothered by this. I told myself,
“Look, no one is perfect.”
Two months into the relationship, I missed my
period. I told Jack and the following day, he took me to a doctor who
did a pregnancy test. It was positive; I was pregnant. Jack looked
shocked. I remember he looked at me and asked, “What will we do now?”
I suggested an abortion and he jumped at the idea.
We discussed it with the doctor and he agreed to carry out the
procedure. The shame of bearing a child out of wedlock would be too much
to handle. What would my parents say? What would old friends who still
thought I was a good Christian say? There was no way I could keep the
baby.
Deep inside though, I still felt as though I was
committing a crime. Just before I had the abortion, a part of me
screamed, “Get up and run”, but my body was too numb to walk away. Four
months later, however, I conceived again. This time round, out of guilt,
I decided to keep the baby. That is how my firstborn born daughter,
Kaylene, came about. She is 11 years old and each time I look at her, I
am thankful that I made the decision to keep her, no matter the
motivation.
I spotted the second red flag in our relationship
shortly after giving birth to Kaylene. Jack developed a short temper and
each time he had an outburst, I could not help thinking, “If I ever
decide to leave this man, he will make sure I suffer by taking away my
baby.” What I had not bargained for was that his short temper would
transfer itself to me, if that is possible. To date, I still struggle
with it.
The face of an abuser
Jack became verbally abusive shortly after my daughter’s first
birthday. He would get angry at me for minor mistakes and say hurtful
things. When he realised that he had hurt me, he would apologise
profusely and swear to never repeat it. But he would. Over and over
again.
In 2004, I had my second born daughter, Melody.
She was a year old when I had my second abortion. By this time, my
relationship with Jack had degenerated and become a predictable cycle of
break-ups and make-ups. After conceiving, I convinced Jack that we were
not financially ready to support another child, and he agreed to the
abortion. The abortions haunted me day and night. Many times, I had
nightmares that my two daughters were dead, and often woke up sweating
and screaming.
I would get a new job, and because I was too distressed, I just could not perform
and would be sacked. My most stable job came in early 2005. My boss and
I became close friends. In him, I found someone I could confide in.
When Jack found out about our friendship, he got jealous and started
beating me. I tried to explain that our friendship was just that —
friendship, but he was not convinced.
He began to hit me in front of our daughters and
since he was much stronger, I could do little about it. All I could do
was scream and shout my lungs out, with statements like “Who do you
think you are to hit me?” Then I would pack his clothes and tell him to
leave. Unfortunately, our daughters were not spared the violence and
shouting matches.
Kaylene was most affected. She still gets scared if she thinks I am angry or when I get into an argument with anyone.
Mid-2005, we had a huge fight over my friendship
with my boss. Jack accused me of having an affair with him even though I
had already resigned in an effort to convince him that I was faithful
and that our relationship was important to me.
The following day, in despair, I took refuge at a
nearby church and poured out my heart to one of the pastors. She advised
me to take a six-month break from the relationship and think my life
through. If Jack still wanted me, he would wait; if he did not, he would
move on.
It was a tough decision because to Jack, we were
already married while to me, we were just domestic partners. Moreover,
even though I wanted a fresh start
in life, we had children together, children who were innocent and
vulnerable and who loved their father. I sincerely thought that leaving
would do them more harm than good.
That evening, I told Jack that I would be moving
back to my parents’ home for some time. He reacted by turning violent
and we ended up fighting nearly the entire night. The following morning,
he left with Kaylene and for the next two months, I had no idea where
they were. I almost went mad with worry and fear. He finally called and
told me that if I wanted Kaylene back, then I would have to accept him
back too.
I had no choice and we reconciled, starting our
lives afresh in Busia. This time though, he refrained from beating or
abusing me. But there was no longer trust or love between us. I had to
leave. I borrowed Sh1,000 from my younger brother, took my daughter, bid
Jack goodbye, and boarded the first bus to Nairobi. I had nothing to
call my own, I was beaten and worn out, and when my sister, Fridah, who
was staying with Melody, my secondborn daughter, saw me, she broke down
and cried.
Shortly afterwards, I returned to my parents’ home
in Meru. Alarmingly, though, I somewhat still missed Jack, something
that greatly incensed my mother. But I stuck to my resolution and my
father agreed to take care of my daughters. He gave me Sh5,000 and I
returned to Nairobi to stay with my younger brother, Nicholas, and his
wife as I looked for a job.
Three months later, in 2006, I got a senior
management position at East African Growers Ltd. I was able to move out
to live on my own and bring my daughters to stay with me. I also joined
the PEFA church in Doonholm, where I got saved and became an active
member.
Starting afresh
In 2007, while working in my brother’s studio, I
met my husband George, a music producer. We became close friends and I
told him about my dark past, even though I had sworn to never open up
about it. I realised that I had developed deeper feelings for him when I
started getting jealous whenever he hugged his female friends.
Luckily, he too was attracted to me and we started
dating in June 2007. I knew that he was a good man even though he was
younger than me — he is 29, so there is an eight-year age difference
between us. He treated me with respect and accepted my daughters.
We wedded in June 2008 at the ACK Christ Church in
Westlands. He has been a good husband and an even better father to our
children. He has never favoured his two biological daughters or
discriminated against Kaylene and Melody. He is a gift from God.
Why have I shared my story, you ask? As a
Christian, I hope this is a testimony that any young person out there
will read and be motivated to make the right choices. It is my hope that
those who have lost their dreams can reach out to God as I did. I pray
too that those struggling in abusive relationships will know that their
die is not cast, that they can still get that second chance.
Caroline’s book about her experiences and the
lessons she learnt, In the Arms of a Stranger, is available at the Text
Book Centre, Wakestar Bookshops, Books First, amazon.com, and createspace.com
No comments:
Post a Comment