My bar mates asked me why I changed my perfume.

That triggered the painful Mama Zakayo memories

Alikuwa ananilima war daily

Our household ilikuwa inakaa soko

  “ toka

  “ nipige kama wewe ni mwanaume”

  “Ubwa za kamakis wewe”

  “ sura kama watermelon”

Ilikuwa tunapewa verbal complaints from landlord every week

Nilijaribu kwenda kwa pastor for prayers but wapi alikuwa anasupport wa’mine in her shenanigans

I was going through alot

I could not concentrate on anything

I could not tell my friends about it

Alcohol became my best friend

Koinange streets became my second home

My resemblance became that of a 57 year old

Hata that hiyo haikushutua Mafia

She cared about pedicure , gym membership na pesa za chama

Schools fees  ya zakayo was not a priority

House ilikuwa chaos tupu

Nothing was about me in a household nalipia rent

I took off, went back to my parents house

With my body full of scars

my heart in pieces

My head in a bad space

We Thank God for Wamaitha

My lovely Gaidi whose love was like a warm balm to the wounds of my ugly past

The eloquent intelligent soft spoken 30 year old

“ yaani mschana ameumbika”

“Ngozi laini kama ya mtoto nchanga”

“ Mschana mrembo mashallah”

She forcefully made me go to therapy ndio I don’t fumble.

Zakayo loves her.

Wherever beautiful things that they say about Kiambu ladies is true.

I can proudly testify in Hague.

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