He insisted on taking me to live with him and leave my mother.
“No.”
“This is the last time I’m going to say this,” he said,
“Are you coming with me?”
“No.”
He slapped me once, then twice, then three times,
Until I lost count.

Unlike most girls, I never had any expectations or dreams about my wedding night. Nor did I exert any effort to think of what would happen once I was alone with my husband—whom I hardly knew—for the first time.

I’m not the one going through this.
It’s a close friend of mine who is,
But she’s not strong enough to share her story.
She’s been married to a man for 18 years.
It started with infertility,
Then with his parents getting involved,
And insulting her.

I used to tell myself that we’d be better off,
If my mama left him.
We had our share of violence.
We used to get beaten with a belt,
And any other object along the way,
Until I would pee myself.
I still remember when he broke my finger when I was young.
He wouldn’t take me to the hospital for two days,
Thinking it was just a bruise,
Then it turned out to be a fracture.

I didn’t have a childhood.
My mother burdened me with responsibilities very early on.
Women here work on the farm,
Milk the cows,
And feed the birds.
My mother would set off to do these things,
And when she’d come back,
She’d hit me.
“Why didn’t you make dinner?”
domestic violence; gender violence; sexual violence; physical violence; parents; child marriage; divorce; work

He instructed me to put on my nightgown.
I put it on, but I didn't want to leave the bedroom wearing nothing but it.
“Goddamn it,” he exclaimed, “Let’s try and get this done sometime today!”
“Your family’s waiting in the street!”
domestic violence, gender violence, sexual violence, sex education, sex work, virginity testing

When I’m alone, pondering my rejection of this rotten, patriarchal world, I wonder if my opinions truly are extreme.
I mean, so what if my uncle divorced his wife five times?
And what's wrong with my other uncle being married to three women at the same time?
And why is it a big deal that my aunt was once beaten up with a pair of flip flops for refusing to make a cup of tea for her
husband, who was lazing in front of the TV watching a football match while she was busy scrubbing the bathroom floor?

“You’re a failure.”
My father has always called me a “failure” ever since I was little.
I don’t remember when he started calling me that.
But he still does.

No one has ever experienced what my father put me through.
It’s such a difficult thing to live through,
When you’re a kid in first grade,
And your father takes you home from school,
And beats you with a spiked rod,
Nails penetrating your entire body.
It was a long walk home,
And I was being beaten up continuously,
blood gushing out of the wounds.
All of this for something I didn’t do.
Something that wasn’t my fault.

I’m 19 years old.
Today, baba beat me with a rubber hose and shoved me to the floor