let this cup…overflow? no, not with this pain. Let this cup…empty
when the heart hurts,it speaks. every song that plays relates every poetic line shouts the tears flow the food tastes different the breeze hits different the winter coat on a sunny day the breath, the breath breaks
when the heart hurts it goes to Calvary and bleeds weeps for the time like why the hell doesn’t time stand still why the hell is the cloud over the head dark
yet when it hurts beautifully the memories play, the smile never fades insanity and mental health depression because its holding on holding unto a candle that burned out ashes that can never rebuild When the heart hurts, therapy is never enough
no mental institute can resolve no law can align it When the heart hurts, it dies. It doesn’t stop (i wonder why) but it dies that nothing ever makes the same sense again Its a prison with an open door, beautiful lawns and an empty house.
So, while I was scrolling through Facebook and twitter I land on this Obituary/ death announcement of an IHK nurse that was hacked to death by her husband INFRONT OF HER KIDS no you didn’t hear me. He axed her in the sight of her children. Well, according to the people that seem to know the story. But it’s not the first case. Women a buried in septic tanks.
Last week a video was posted the lady was smashing the man’s car and the man was recording while telling the kids “see your mother is mad” and she was asking him to stop feeding her kids with lies she isn’t mad. She was getting back at him for something but that’s a story we online don’t know so we can’t tell reason for reaction. She was criticized in all ways positive and negative but I got lots of questions on my mind and why such crimes seem justified and why the law has to first check the mental health of the criminal to be sure he is mentally steady. My heart sunk for the kids. The image, the sight will never depart. I really pray they find a home (without him) that will nurture them and console and love and take good care of them.
Now the questions. No matter the reason no one deserves to take another life in the name of anger and frustration and I wasn’t thinking nonsense.
We need to change the narrative and stop stigmatizing divorce. Now don’t get me wrong, I know what the bible says and I don’t support divorce, but if it is the only way our or reason to get sanity please get out even God loves the Divorcee (am sure he will understand or not). Especially because I don’t think all marriages are ordained by God. We force ourselves into some because we are pregnant, wealth, love, age, society, peer pressure whatever it is, lust even when we have all the red flags.
First of all it’s okay not to get married, society shouldn’t dictate. It’s okay not to want children or want one or four or 20 as you please not what the world says is right. Don’t give in for the sake of your sanity. It’s also okay to get married at 40 or whatever age you find it right and pleasing.
Did the deceased talk to people? Probably they told her to be strong and hang on.
Are we taught to stay in toxic relationships because we fear the aftermath, the kids, the things built together the memories we hold together? Okay for the sake of Marriage the kids will suffer the break up but they will also suffer consequences of a toxic union so make the right choice because Death shouldn’t be it no matter the choice. We tell these girls everything they should do soon as they hit adolescence but have we rejected the men?
What does a man do in a toxic relationship?
How do they deal with anger?
Many women, myself inclusive live in carelessness because we are taught as African women to uphold family honor and be patient even when it kills your mental, physical and emotional health. We take all the abuse ad “die heroes”.
Who started this narrative?
“That is how marriage is” seems to mean take everything thrown at you. Do you think Christ was stupid to die on the cross or when he said “if you burn marry but being alone is better” Did he build the institution on spite or you think he was drunk to preach love, love in Corinthians.
Why do we prefer to return home in coffins when we left in heels and makeup just at the expense of abuse? Don’t we love ourselves just enough!
Normal men that were groomed well, speak up! Don’t let this eat us all up because of few that were probably broken as young men
Do the church vows need to be revised from “till death do us part” because we shall really die?
My heart is bleeding yet I didn’t even know her in person. Rest in peace Violet Kakai
being in a relationship won’t cure your loneliness riding on the horseback into a sunset of a marriage wont cure your sadness we win some and lose some because love as it is doesn’t guarantee happiness
how can you be mad if you don’t remember? to forgive is not always to forget so stop making excuses because the hug is warm, the sex is good, and the heart wants what it wants again.. don’t ride into a sunset of a marriage because at dawn the tears will flow the ache will return the thumping will be loud darkness will cloud you but don’t say, i was blind. And don’t blame love
why are you accepting his ring when you haven’t forgotten why is he on one knee when you both didn’t heal love, did i hear love change? are you God! Love? are you insane? well when the sunrises, we shall be dressed in purple with hankies and hymn books silently crying at the church pews our hearts grieving his back being patted by another not you and by sunset, you will be lowered At sunrise we will walk the streets like nothing ever happened.
of dried withered wild roses the death scent stinks they lay symmetrical as if they were on parade and today, they lower yet another heart afar next to the dusty concrete on my left. i hear someone weep she sat down her head laying on the concrete she tries to dust it but her tears stain it besides her are fresh wild roses i want to walk by but my tongue is tied and my legs frozen. I simply look up to the skies and a thunder roars a twirl plays and lifts the scent of death and grief with it. far right a family sings kumbaya as they pay last respects My thoughts run to hospital i see the patients in ICU and emergency unit i walk through the corridors and the smell death. death, death
i cant say it gets better with time. I cant even say time heals because i don’t know what you are going through. I cant even relate my dear. I want to say all those words, i want to hold and hug you. I want to say i am sorry but well how do i even start when i do not have the silentest idea of what you are going through.
How do i ask you to be strong and stop crying? How do i begin to explain God will fall through and hasn’t forgotten?
Woman that suffered a still birth. I have no idea how it feels to carry and not hold or even take home for a day
that has suffered a miscarriage
that wants and desires to conceive. The Dr said you are alright but no results
That has held but hasn’t been blessed to seem them grow.
that is suffering from endometriosis
that is suffering from fistula
that is raising those bundles of joy on your own
How do i tell you its getting better and i am praying with you.Maybe sometimes we don’t have to say anything but sit besides you and make your smile abit, let our hearts do all the talking.
However, i celebrate you. I admire your strength and i pray that God sees you through
I was raised in a society that was never silent. It was unusual to spend the day with no Drama or have a silent night. It was either a woman screaming from domestic abuse, or footsteps thumping because a thief had escaped or a drunkard singing or loud music playing because someone bought a new radio. During in day it was policemen patrolling and drunkards trying to save the thief because its someone they grew up with, or co wives fighting. It was never silent as this morning.
He came alone on a police motorbike. The mob was furious. “Are you going to carry the corpse on your head?” Yet in the beginning they were all afraid of making the police report because they were afraid of being called suspects in the murder. He came with a notebook and after the hauling, he sent for a patrol and police dog. But like you know our societies, they had already stepped over the place but luckily the chairman had come quick and told them they were tampering with evidence incase they brought a police dog and even told them its easy for the Dog to report them when they are innocent (not sure how true that is). Anyway, she had been murdered, undressed and packed into a sack. No one recognised her so we couldn’t tell she was from the same village. But when the police dog arrived, it quickly took turn into the neighboring village. We have been watching these murders on news, hearing about them and as much as my society used to have drama, murders were never part of it. Rape a couple of times and just because we know each other try to have each others backs doesn’t make all our sins justified for the law. However, I was told about “Mayumba Kumi”. It’s hard to find a fenced house in my society, those fenced have no gates, so they are still accessible. It’s easy to tell who is new on the village because the village Drunkard will announce, The people’s chairman (we choose one just for just nothing political) Is always alerted. The water collection centers know because we don’t have many so either way one has to fetch from either of the five and the owners will tell the face is new.
Anyway, its #UgBlogWeek and the theme Whats your vision of the future of story telling. The silence on my village this morning wasnt because they were in shock, They were actually scared. They were afraid to speak. The Future will have more of these, media will be censored and people will be afraid to tell their stories. how does one tell the world they were raped? As much as its okay, the stigma is real on certain things. we have got all these talks about HIV/Aids and the stigma is still not dead even with positive living. We have stories of friends disappearing for political reasons but no one is quick to question. we are afraid, we shall be more afraid. We shall tell tales and stories only in the comforts of our homes due to fear of being misheard or judged or misquoted. We shall go back to times of sitting at fires and telling our children what the media never got courage to let the world know. We will write/blog and still refuse to detail because we are afraid.