Emma

A text message alerted on my phone as I surfed on youtube. Closer look on the recipient, I dazzled. It had been long since we spoke, something she reminded me of soon as I replied back .

“Last time we met, you seemed engaged in your thoughts we din’t speak much ”

Yes I remember the last we met it was earlier this year on may 2019, at a rehab centre in Chiromo. We shared a mutual relation with the stayee.

“Forgive me dear, ”

“Always ”

The woman on the other end typing was a close friend that I had grown to adore. If I could describe Emma (not her real name) with any element of the earth, it would be water, she calmed even the fiercest of fires. A lady bee who dutifully did what was expected of her and cleaned up after others. It wasn’t in her blood to complain , she had learnt to live with pain. Submerged fear, anxiety ,anger, disappointment so deep thus making it difficulf for the world to see.

“I need to talk to you about something,”

Her type came in .

****

Think of a superhero. The whole epitome- red suit, red gloves , red boots, black cloak. Has a superpower, protects young hearts against evils of mankind. Whispers things such as ,”Fear not, I’m here” to your shy ears.

“That’s who he was to me.”

“Spiderman?” I ask and she isn’t amused by the question.

“A superhero. He did no wrong before my eyes. He was everything.”

Tears flicker in her eyes, the mood in the atmosphere is changed. The lights in the room paved way to see the lines in her under eyes.

“He then left us,” She then proceeds to say, “me and my three siblings. Plus mum. Days became longer, nights even darker.”

There is pain in her voice. A pain that is an overflowing river threatning to break her vocal cords and she tries to speak.

“He just left…. My mama was jobless and I, the oldest was eleven years old. We had nothing with us but prayers. As I grew, a deep bitterness for my father grew with me. I resented him. A resentment I no longer habour.”

“Your siblings were young then, do you think they feel or felt as bitter as you do about him?” I ask.

“Occassionaly, they express their disinterest in him but they have no memories of him. I, on the other hand was left empty and broken. I loved him so much.” She responds.

“Your mum, how did she deal with is?”

She fidgets. Her eyes are glued to the outside, probably holding back some tears.

“There were days of tears but she learnt to accept her position. She has become a superwoman and has helped me with constructive advices on my journey.”

There is a five minutes pause as I let her eat her food. Her chocolate smooth unscarred skin seemed unaffected by all this. Her story though is not on her skin but in her heart and voice.

“You know for the longest time, I felt disavantaged in life. Like I was missing a piece of joy. Like every man that I would date could dessert me like our father did.”

“How did you get over that?” I ask looked directly at her

“Hardly, I developed a defense mechanism where I would try and control my partners , atleast in controlling you are assured of the results.”

She became controlling but not the bad controlling where she demands to see how he spent his money, or demands to know all his female friends, controlling in that he wouldn’t them head the relationship. Something african men dont take lying down. Needless to say, all her relationships have been rocky for lack of better words.

A little girl dreams of heaven with her father. Emma dreamnt of good times ahead. Talking together, walking together, receiving gifts for a job well done in school, spending chrismas together. Now it was all cut short. He didn’t stick around enough for her simple wishful thinking to pass and that tore her little world apart. He quit being her superhero. Rather she demoted him.

“You summoned me here and spoke of an important message,”

Emma giggles at this probably pleased by the fact that she controlled how I spent my friday. You better cook me some chapati and beef stew, I had told her before I rushed to the shower.

“Yes, because you have blogging alot lately and I want you to teach women the value of self love through your writing. Women should cut on comparison. All I saw when I looked in the mirror or social media was how I lacked something and other girls had it. I did not have a father, a job, a good relationship, not the prettiest in the world, everything was wrong. The reality is I have achieved more than I hoped. I have a good job. I pay my fees and bills and I manage to take care of my siblings.”

Drum rolls now,

“I have spent a long time looking at life through the lens of an absentee father whereas all I had to do was look at it through who was present- my mom.”

Awww 😍😍😍😍, I gasp. What about love for you now?

“Story for another day”

7 thoughts on “Emma”

  1. Everything in life happens with a reason and at times things may turn out to be the opposite of what we expect. In such a scenario we should learn to pause and press hard rather than being bitter about things we can’t change

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