Story of my life 

Having met Shadreck mid high school, a wealthy businessman’s son, life was rosy. He spoiled me with all that I wanted. I was the only girl in my rural area who could wear designer sporting attire. All thanks to him. As fate would have it,we did it, yes, for fear of losing him to other girls. 

Competition was stiff on him, so I was told. They advised me to give him all so as to contain him. I wasn’t amenable, infact I was iconoclastic. I resisted but later on submitted. Just like the deadly sniper, it was just that one shot and enough to bear a child Brandon. I had to drop from Tenth grade (Form 3) to nurse our son with the promise that once he has finished his Advanced Level we were going to marry. 

Fast forward to today, he doesn’t want anything to do with the child. Let alone me. He tells me in no printable words that I was a whore and how would I open my legs when I was only 16. Where had I seen that before. It’s all my fault now. What about the promise?. He asks me for where he signed this ( mou ) memorandum of understanding as evidence. What a highbrow. 

Things that education can do to people. I just sob in my sincerity. I never thought he would change. Was it because of education or the lights of the big city. Was it because I was not educated like him or because I never wore any trousers, perfumes, mini skirts that resembled more of a belt than a skirt. I wonder. 🤔

Now, in the society, I’m a disdain . In church people nolonger want to sit next to me. I’m the good example for wrong reasons. All verses seem to point to promiscuity. All he preaching tells people to be morally uptight. Even when the Preacher said “if you don’t meet the devil in your life it means you are hearding in the same direction“. Everyone looked at me

                      
In communities, the women shout so loud to each other about their daughters having passed with high flying colors at university. Is it because I never saw the front of a university let alone finish my ordinary level. 

The father of my son has since married and went for a pencil slim girl. She has long hair that almost reach her bums. Long nails and trims her eyebrows. Yet I’m short or chubby much closer to the ground, round face and the so called hard Mashona type of hair. (Kinky hair). They say history is for the victors and some will be remembered whilst others are forgotten, but facts can never be changed.

I have to do part time work to feed my son. Wherever I go they ask for educational certificates which I don’t have. Even as a maid they tell me I might be bad influence to their kids. If I did it how would I stop their children from doing it. Even those that have toddlers they tell me they would rather have someone without a kid. For they fear their food might fast disappear as I feed mine too from their pantry. Maybe they are right for “Sanity is not statistical” and “The consequences of every act are included in the act itself.”

As I sit by the road side with my baby at my back. Too tired to continue with the water bucket that I have to carry on my head from the water well. Maybe too tired because it’s been days since I ate a proper meal. Too tired after long nights trying to join pieces of cloth together to make clothes for my son. Too tired of thinking the if and buts or whys. 


With my palm around my right cheek, my head tilted and being supported by the hand, I see scholars in their uniforms coming from high school. Done with their day’s business. Among them I see pairs or boys and girls arm in arm. Love in the air. Some with their hands on their lovers waist. Obviously the hands for boys being a little lower than the waist. 

Tears rolled down my cheek. 

I was taken back to the real world by a loud scream and a sudden screeching of brakes. Dust rose so rapidly and I was choking. This is when reality struck….

To be continued

                                         – oOo

*Based on a false story 

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