Out Of A Pit-Hole – Hope Is My New Name!
I will just leave this part of my story here and I believe I will inspire you for a moment, if not for the rest of your life.
I am a class seven school dropout and a mother of four pretty kids. I wished life could be different and could have given me a chance to at least get some curriculum qualifications.
I am now thirty-three years young; do I still have the chances of a qualification? We will see at the end of my story.
I was twelve years when everything in my life turned upside down. My mum had gone through a divorce and she couldn’t afford my school fees any longer. For the love of my other four siblings, and I being the first born, my mum asked me if I could drop out of school and go get a job, in order to give her a financial support.
Mummies are human-beings we do trust the most, and as innocent as I was at an age of twelve, I agreed with her. Little did I know that this was the beginning of a messed-up life.
The chances of getting a job in the village we lived in were very slim, so, I relocated to my aunt in a bigger city with wider job opportunities. At an age of thirteen I had my first job as a house helper. “Is this not what you call child abuse today?”
How does it feel to be a teenager? I can’t remember myself going through this stage. It is like I jumped from childhood to adulthood. There was no time to discuss with my mum the changes that we’re happening, with and in my body. I mean, why were these two things on my chest growing bigger and bigger and why did I have to fight with acne? Why was this monthly bleeding at times so painful and messy? “I am sure you can picture it, if you are a woman. ”
My “Whys” went unanswered and by the age of seventeen I was already pregnant with my first kid. There is nothing I knew about parenthood nor womanhood. But I was determined to bare this child. The father of my baby seemed to be supportive and that is what this insecure young girl was longing for.
My gentleman by then decided that we should relocate from the city, to his village. This was miles away from my own village. There I was, pregnant in a strange world and married at seventeen. Moment, I was to adjust in being pregnant, marriage life and learn how to trust my new community.
Unfortunately, things became more difficult and I was in a pit-hole. The man I thought was good enough for me turned to be a beast in a human body. My days were made of struggles for survival and my nights were full of tears and pain. I guess I was too young to understand everything.
Not only was I surrounded with alcoholics but the man I lived with was also an alcoholic. He provided nothing for his family, which was now made of three kids. (Mind you, between the age of seventeen and twenty-two, I had three kids already) Working hard and doing tough jobs were normal for me, because I had started doing them since I was twelve. So, if this was the only issue, I would be okay living with it.
Regardless of what this monster did to me, I still stayed with him. He got mad over things that either didn’t exist or literally made no sense. He could beat me – drunken beatings, of course – and then forced me to sex. That pain was unbearable!
Are children made out of love? If yes, I am so sorry to say that two of my kids were as a result of a violence sex. (Allow me not to go into details now, because there are more disgusting things that I need to explore, but in another chapter)
For me, survival is a gift from God. I still can’t understand why my heart did not strike pumping.
After seven years of not being able to raise a voice, I was able to finally escape, with my seven-month old kid on my back.
Let us together shout out “freedom!”
Oh no, don’t shout it so loud because I even got deeper into my pit-hole. I wish I have the best words to explain my frustrations. I was so waiting to embrace my family again, after seven years of separation. A shock hit me when I saw my mum. She was no longer the woman I knew. My mum had turned to be a ‘hazardous drinker’ and exchanged men now and then.
I would have liked to have a direct explanation from God why my life was so a disaster. There was no a welcome-back home hug from a caring mother. Instead, she saw me and my baby as a problem, since she was going to provide for two more people in the family.
You see, I had escaped alive from a drunkard community with the hopes of a new beginning. But there I was, in an unsafe and insecure compound again.
If there is a time I thought that God was not real, it was that time.
This is how I even fell to the deepest corner of my pit-hole: I am now twenty-two years of age. I left my village to go and look for green pastures in the same city, that I had met the man who abused me for seven good years. I didn’t have another choice but to leave my baby with my every day drunkard mum.
To make the long story short, I met a good family, which offered me the chance to live with them as I helped them with some housework, and they paid me thirty Euros a month. This was a damn good deal for me. At least I could send mum money for the care of my baby.
In the meantime, I had made some friends and we would hook up over the weekends. Their life seemed to be so easy and enjoyable. I wished I could have such a life. Money was not a problem for them.
I once gathered the courage to ask them what they did, to have such a beautiful life. “My friends” were honest enough to show me how, and the kind of job they were doing. So, I was introduced to a new job.
Now I had to make a choice. A pay of thirty Euros in a month or thirty Euros in a night? Although I am a class seven-drop out, this was a simple mathematic. I resigned my monthly job and engaged myself into prostitution.
Was life now giving me a cupcake??
Of course, no, this was the dirtiest and the hardest job I ever did. I was again in the hands of uncaring men with a lot of mistreatments, forced sex for money, pain and harassments, sometimes even without a pay.
….to be continued….
Please don’t pity me. Whatever happened has happened. Right now, I am out of a pit-hole, under the shelter of God and a loving caring man on my side. Every struggle and pain that I have gone through has made my heart stronger.
This is my wish from you: please help me to pray, help me to learn how to completely forgive. I feel I still have issues with forgiveness. Also help me to pray for my mum – who is today as I write my story, – sited in the jail. Include my siblings in your prayers. God is guiding me and giving me the strength and grace to move forward.
One last word from me. Love your past, it has contributed to the person you became today. Write your story, this has helped me heal a part of my broken heart.
Do I still have the chance to get an academic qualification?
yours “Hope is my new name”
– narrated by “hope is my new name” – composed by Grace A.