Life over a thousand times
A slight charring of my skin leaves a trail of black markings upon the wall. I know what I did was out of context. I just never thought that you would douse me with gasoline. My long hair now just matted strings of wax. My skin once was smooth, is now crumbling. Why?
Oh all I did was speak up for me, for my children. Yet you had to find a reason to get rid of me. And though I am not who you married, you must understand even after all that I have experienced with you, I still am faithful to your rules, your restrictions. Not because I have to, it is because that is all I know.
Married to you at eleven my eyes cast dark shadows already. No longer was I a child. I cannot even recall when I was a child, were there ever a time when I could be laughing and free to roam the countryside. Oh no. Oldest child. Cast aside because my sex was the one no one wanted.
I am surprised I lived to be eleven. So many times my mother and father tried to rid themselves of me. Yet I kept coming back like the bad omen they said I was. My hated eyes. None knew where the color came from. Even more were the streaks of red that colored in the sunlight.
I was a evil child.
Still I kept strong. Surviving all that was there. Living in life as I was supposed to. Here, there yet never seen. Then you came to my door. My parents invited you in, striking up a bride price so cheap that the chickens, cows were given more than me. All they couldn't wait to do was to hand over the despicable excuse of a child that I was.
In fact I was excited to leave. Maybe I would be loved. Ah yet I lied to myself. Dreaming that life would be better than here, here in my parents' home. Alas the trade of me from their hands to yours. The danced and cried in joy when I left. I had seen where parents, mothers especially cried for the loss of their child. Yet here mine were dancing as though the curse had been washed from their eyes.
Oh how I hoped that life would be much better in your house. The reality of the situation was you only wanted this child bride for breeding. Seeing the rarity in my skin, hair and eyes this lust and need almost killed me. The night I you took me I laid there in silent tears of disgrace. I felt so much dirt raping my eyes, soiling my hair and skin and further more into my organs.
Yet the fertile child I was began the role you bought me for. So tiny with little curves. Not much formed but I soon learned that changes with the carrying of a child. I thought that being weighed down with a growing belly that would discourage you from coming close. Oh how I tricked my mind so well and when you came back every time I had to pretend I was a different person.
In a sense I became crazy. Learning that I was just a machine. I should have no feelings.
This first baby was hard on my small frame. So hard. Yet healthy and big, a male child was given. Though no opportunity to heal, the body ravished again within a week. I am so unclear on why the compulsion to me.
More, more and more over the years. One baby after another until my ninth came. So tiny. A little girl. I mourned her. Eight boys. Sturdy stock and already showing signs of cruelty like their father. Yes I loved you and them just the same. My stock. Yet this tiny little girl. You tossed her into the trash pile, burning her as though rotten food. My eyes wept silent, dry tears. I could not give you the pleasure of seeing me so destroyed.
Today, after you burned our daughter, I saw you following that young girl in the village. She is just four years older than I was when I came to your house. Yet she likes your advances. You flirt with her, you tease her. I heard her whispering to her sisters in town that she is in love with you.
I almost feel sorry for her. But she loves you, she loves the part that I made of you. This cruel but soft man.
Days, weeks go by. I don't see this young girl out and about anymore. For certain I think her father married her off because of your advances. I feel happy that she got away from you. She would never have to see the real you.
But this morning I saw her. You brought her to my doorstep. Told me to train her in how to give birth, for in a few months she will have your child. Stunned. My eyes cast down curses in spades. Yet even as I was doing so, I was thankful that I would never have to give in to you again. This will be her place. I can be left alone.
I taught myself that I can be hopeful but truly the opposite happens. Last night you beat me, raped me. Then while I slept you poured gasoline on my skin. Waking me as the fire was eating me. I did not scream, as you wanted. I just allowed the awaiting death to pull me to sleep once more. Yet that gave you no satisfaction. You saved me. WHY?
The horror that I was to live like this, torn, charred and speechless. You still wanted me in your house. Why not just allow me to die? Why not just cast me out?
Today I walk down a corridor in the darkness. Seeing the beauty in the light coming from the windows. I am only twenty five but I feel like I am an old woman of fifty. I have seen enough to last me a lifetime. And today you actually held my hand gently. Helping me walk down the corridor. Helping me lay on the mat on the floor, I now call my bed. So gentle.
When you left I finally allowed my tears to fall. Soaking the red earth I used as my pillow.
Oh all I did was speak up for me, for my children. Yet you had to find a reason to get rid of me. And though I am not who you married, you must understand even after all that I have experienced with you, I still am faithful to your rules, your restrictions. Not because I have to, it is because that is all I know.
Married to you at eleven my eyes cast dark shadows already. No longer was I a child. I cannot even recall when I was a child, were there ever a time when I could be laughing and free to roam the countryside. Oh no. Oldest child. Cast aside because my sex was the one no one wanted.
I am surprised I lived to be eleven. So many times my mother and father tried to rid themselves of me. Yet I kept coming back like the bad omen they said I was. My hated eyes. None knew where the color came from. Even more were the streaks of red that colored in the sunlight.
I was a evil child.
Still I kept strong. Surviving all that was there. Living in life as I was supposed to. Here, there yet never seen. Then you came to my door. My parents invited you in, striking up a bride price so cheap that the chickens, cows were given more than me. All they couldn't wait to do was to hand over the despicable excuse of a child that I was.
In fact I was excited to leave. Maybe I would be loved. Ah yet I lied to myself. Dreaming that life would be better than here, here in my parents' home. Alas the trade of me from their hands to yours. The danced and cried in joy when I left. I had seen where parents, mothers especially cried for the loss of their child. Yet here mine were dancing as though the curse had been washed from their eyes.
Oh how I hoped that life would be much better in your house. The reality of the situation was you only wanted this child bride for breeding. Seeing the rarity in my skin, hair and eyes this lust and need almost killed me. The night I you took me I laid there in silent tears of disgrace. I felt so much dirt raping my eyes, soiling my hair and skin and further more into my organs.
Yet the fertile child I was began the role you bought me for. So tiny with little curves. Not much formed but I soon learned that changes with the carrying of a child. I thought that being weighed down with a growing belly that would discourage you from coming close. Oh how I tricked my mind so well and when you came back every time I had to pretend I was a different person.
In a sense I became crazy. Learning that I was just a machine. I should have no feelings.
This first baby was hard on my small frame. So hard. Yet healthy and big, a male child was given. Though no opportunity to heal, the body ravished again within a week. I am so unclear on why the compulsion to me.
More, more and more over the years. One baby after another until my ninth came. So tiny. A little girl. I mourned her. Eight boys. Sturdy stock and already showing signs of cruelty like their father. Yes I loved you and them just the same. My stock. Yet this tiny little girl. You tossed her into the trash pile, burning her as though rotten food. My eyes wept silent, dry tears. I could not give you the pleasure of seeing me so destroyed.
Today, after you burned our daughter, I saw you following that young girl in the village. She is just four years older than I was when I came to your house. Yet she likes your advances. You flirt with her, you tease her. I heard her whispering to her sisters in town that she is in love with you.
I almost feel sorry for her. But she loves you, she loves the part that I made of you. This cruel but soft man.
Days, weeks go by. I don't see this young girl out and about anymore. For certain I think her father married her off because of your advances. I feel happy that she got away from you. She would never have to see the real you.
But this morning I saw her. You brought her to my doorstep. Told me to train her in how to give birth, for in a few months she will have your child. Stunned. My eyes cast down curses in spades. Yet even as I was doing so, I was thankful that I would never have to give in to you again. This will be her place. I can be left alone.
I taught myself that I can be hopeful but truly the opposite happens. Last night you beat me, raped me. Then while I slept you poured gasoline on my skin. Waking me as the fire was eating me. I did not scream, as you wanted. I just allowed the awaiting death to pull me to sleep once more. Yet that gave you no satisfaction. You saved me. WHY?
The horror that I was to live like this, torn, charred and speechless. You still wanted me in your house. Why not just allow me to die? Why not just cast me out?
Today I walk down a corridor in the darkness. Seeing the beauty in the light coming from the windows. I am only twenty five but I feel like I am an old woman of fifty. I have seen enough to last me a lifetime. And today you actually held my hand gently. Helping me walk down the corridor. Helping me lay on the mat on the floor, I now call my bed. So gentle.
When you left I finally allowed my tears to fall. Soaking the red earth I used as my pillow.
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