STORY THREAD
I was from the streets, where the kind with a ring on their noses belonged, he was from the church, the pastor’s son. He was the most eligible bachelor in church when I joined his father’s church. When the preacher requested the church newcomers to stand up
and introduce themselves, I sprung on my feet, enthusiastic to pursue and stick to the new year’s resolution that I had made. Attending church was one of them.
I looked around and almost shuddered at the stares I received.
Was it because of the half-bareback that my off-shoulder dress had failed cover? Was it because the straps of my bra were visible? Was it because my dress was very short? Was it because I had forgotten to pull the ring off my nose before going to church?
‘Come over, come,
and introduce yourself from the podium!’ The guy holding the mic requested. My poise was sheepish. I was a lady who loved walking with my confidence clung to my body. However, at that time, my poise was flickery. I tried so hard to pull the dress’s ruffled hem down
to cover my thighs while concurrently pulling it up to cover my cleavage. In the end, I walked like a girl wearing high-heels for the first time. I cursed at the Satan that had whispered into my ears to stand up. The leers were scorching. I felt they were judging me.
On my way, I lost my balance and almost fell down. Naturally, I said ‘f*ck’. F*ck was the most natural word that I used when cursing, especially that at the Satan that had whispered into my ears to stand. As if he had noticed my struggle to walk, he rushed from the podium
to help me climb up. My heel’s click-clacking sound as I walked on the wooden floor was heard into the loudspeakers in the church.
When I took the microphone to introduce myself, it felt like everyone was shocked and judgy. I could see the disdain in their stares.
I guess it was because I failed to start my speech with, Praise the Lord, or, Shalom my brothers and sisters, or, The Lord is good… I felt out of place, but the guy with the microphone tried so hard to make me feel comfortable. He nodded his head to everything that I said
and even clapped at the end of my introduction. No one else clapped until he did; only after he clapped did they all clap.
He helped me climb down the podium again. After the service, as I walked outside, I felt someone tap on my shoulders. I turned.
He was standing behind me with a ghost of a grin on his face. ‘Would you like to join the choir practice or our Bible study team later in the evening?’ He requested. I only sang in the showers and everyone who heard me sing made fun of my crooking voice.
I offered to join the Bible study team. It was supposed to be my last Sunday in that church because if people in church constantly stare at you on your first day, it feels like they are judging you.
After requesting me to join the Bible studies, Alfred asked me to attend
a confession ekklesia the following Sunday and a church kesha the Friday that followed. Every time I found myself granting his wishes and requests. Like when he asked me out after my fifth Sunday in church, I said yes. I had never given Alfred a thought.
He was not the type of street guy I was attracted to. I loved the thrill of dating bad boys that lived their lives on the edge. Alfred was not such a guy, he was calm and collected. On the date, I started noticing tiny things that I hadn’t before.
Tiny things that mattered; like the beauty of his smile, the alpha voice that ladies loved every Sunday, his height. I also started noticing how envious other girls in church were when they looked at me. Sometimes I felt like their eyes were accusing me or warning me that Alfred
will use and dump me as he did to every church newcomer. We started going on dates more often, we became very close.
I got deep into the fabrics of the church. I started by reading the Bible during the service, walking around the church to collect the offertory,
reading the church announcements. I also stopped wearing my nose rings because that was the first thing that Alfred’s father looked at the first time when Alfred introduced me as his girlfriend to him. I became a typical church girl.
One day, Alfred proposed. I said yes.
A few weeks later, we were already talking about a wedding. We set December 12th of that year as our wedding day. ‘I want my wedding to be the biggest this church has ever witnessed.’ Alfred was obsessed with this phrase.
It became a chorus that he sang in the choir, an announcement that he announced in the church, it became the vibe that he gave me when we were on dates. ‘I will give you the biggest wedding ever because the most beautiful sister deserves the biggest wedding ever.’
He was obsessed with a big wedding. I was never a wedding girl. I never dreamed of having church weddings.
I thought he was joking until he drafted the wedding budget to 5 million. ‘A-five-million-wedding for the most beautiful girl on the earth.’ He said on a date. I smiled,
and blushed and wondered where we were going to raise such kind of money? His net salary was 125k per month while I earned 75k. Even if we saved all our salary for the six months that led to our wedding, we could not raise a quarter of the money. ‘I got everything under control.’
He always had everything under control.
Two Sundays later, a wedding announcement bearing Alfred and Josephine’s name was made to a wild reception. A wedding committee was quickly set up consisting of the rich and young members of the church. Alfred presented his wedding budget.
It was agreed that the church was going to raise half a million, his close-knit friends pledged 1 million, his father half a million. I could only manage half a million which offset my financial balance because I was taking care of my brother’s college fees,
and my younger sister was to join form one the following year, a month after our wedding.
I thought his budget was crazy given he could not raise the money directly from his salary and savings. Alfred was adamant that he was going to raise the 2.5 million within six months
while paying his three-bedroom apartment rent which was 35k per month. His father’s church was located in a high-end neighborhood, where he lived. His monthly expenses always exceeded one hundred thousand shillings.
True to his promise, Alfred raised the 2.5M.
The wedding was lavish, exorbitant, high-end, Hollywood-esque. I was the happiest girl on that day, a high-end musician performed at the wedding, a top MC-comedian was our MC, Our honeymoon was in Seychelles. It was nothing like I had imagined.
However, three weeks later, beyond the petal of rose flowers on our wedding carpet, beyond the honeymoon and cakes, beyond impressing the world, we were supposed to pay rent, pay bills. I was supposed to pay my brother’s fees and my sister’s form one fee.
He was unable to pay our January’s rent. When he requested me to settle the rent, I thought it was a mere financial hangover after spending a lot on the wedding. And just like an alcohol hangover, I expected him to regain his financial energy sooner.
I was servicing a loan that I took to cover the wedding, I was paying my brother’s school fees at JKUAT, and that January, my sister had joined a high school. My husband was so broke that he could not afford to fuel his car. January lived to the billing that January has.
I thought February was going to be easier. Again, he requested me to settle house rent and do house shopping.
It started with Alfred acting indifferent. The petals of the loving son of the pastor that I had married were drying up, withering slowly due to the depression he
was slowly plunging himself into. Our sex was haphazard, sometimes it was never there. I still blamed it on the wedding hangover. I thought it would pass.
Then, he sold his car, and that was off, completely off. He secured a loan of 3M from a bank to buy the car two years earlier
. Ever since I met him, he had never missed attending church. He missed church the following Sunday after selling his car. On that, I confronted him. He said that he was sick. Then he was sick again the following Sunday and the one that followed. I confronted him, he said
‘he was ashamed to attend church without a car.’ The following Sunday, one of his friends drove his car into the church. Rumors in the church said that Alfred sold the car to his Friend to recover the money he spent on the wedding. He stopped going to church because of such
rumors, while lowkey his father was blaming me for taking his son away from the church.
The church wasn’t the only place he was avoiding. He was avoiding his friends too. When we were engaged and soon after the wedding, we used to visit our friend’s houses each weekend,
on other weekends, they would come to our place. His friends stopped visiting us either.
In March, he started selling the wedding presents. I shrugged, ‘no problem. He had a TV, a fridge, a cooker before the wedding. No problem if he sells the ones we received as presents.
Once he recovers his financial muscles, he will replace them.’ Well, I was delusional to think he was going to stop there until he sold his old fridge when I was out in the saloon.
It was at that time that I said, ‘hold on, I am a signatory to this agreement.
Before making decisions like selling our house appliances, I deserve a consultation.’ That evening, I saw a different Alfred. He slapped me for questioning him. The charming guy that took my hand to the church podium, the one that I loved so much,
became a monster that I started loathing. He apologized, I forgave him because his father preached forgiveness. It was during the apology session that he confessed that he had taken another 3 million loan, on top of the 3M he had borrowed to buy a car, to finance the wedding.
He had borrowed the money from his friends, one million from Benson, 400k from Alfonse (our best man), 500k from his father, and 300k from his colleague who was pocketing his monthly salary each time he was paid. ‘I did not sell the car, I gave it to Benson because I could
not manage to repay the loan within the agreed timeframe. The reason why I am not going to church is that everyone knows that I borrowed money to finance the wedding. And my friend impounded my car because I did not manage to repay his loan in the stipulated time.’
I asked him why he had borrowed all that kind of money without means of repaying them in place? He said nothing. I thought he was delusional. I suggested that we move out of that house into a cheaper house because I was struggling to sustain ourselves. He refused, as always,
he said that he had everything under control. He always said something like, ‘my friend will laugh at us,’ or ‘ people expect the son of the pastor not to live this way.’ His father was very rich.
One day, I decided to visit Alfonse to request him if he could give
Alfred more time to raise the money because we were struggling financially. Alfonse’s loan was due the following month. My husband was deep into depression. I was forced to do something. I found Alfonse alone in the house. And for whatever reason, he thought we could have sex.
He was banking on the fact that I was desperate for his help. He probably thought that we could have sex in exchange for him pushing the loan due date a few months forward. I could not bring myself to have sex with him even if it could take pressure from my husband,
but he thought I was playing hard to get. He became very aggressive just at a time when his wife came back. She found us in a very compromising position. At that time, I was questioning the church people. Whom I was part of.
She slapped me, viciously, and gave me all types of unpalatable words. I picked my bag and walked out, embarrassed, ashamed, mortified, and bruised both physically and emotionally. I was also getting into a depression.
My sister was supposed to report back to school for the second term and I didn’t have any money with me.
That Sunday, a word was all over the church that I was cheating on Alfred with his best man just a few months after our marriage.
Alfonso’s wife told the church that I was sleeping with her husband. This confirmed what the church had thought I was when I first attended the church, one for the streets. The word got to Alfred that I was sleeping with his best man,
and he assaulted me in the evening when I got back home. Our neighbor saved me. I had to sleep at a friend’s place and called in sick at my job the following morning. My face was swollen because of the punches. Alfred was depressed. Apparently, as I later learned,
my father-in-law was opposed to our marriage. Alfred had gone against his father’s wish to marry me. He described me as the girl with a ring on her nose from the streets. For the son of a pastor to marry a girl with a ring on her nose, he had disgraced the pastor.
He withdrew his support from his son the moment he married me.
On Tuesday, I called Alfred to inform him that I was coming to the house to pick my things to quit the marriage, he didn’t pick the phone. My friend had convinced me to call it quits.
It was embarrassing, especially if you consider the hype that surrounded our wedding and the perfect image that our courting painted. I didn’t know the whole facade that he portrayed was hiding a different person. Was I quick to accept to marry him without knowing him?
When the son of the pastor who runs the church approaches you, he is almost a saint. I was blind to everything else. We were everyone’s favorite couple in the church. Within months, I had moved from the envy of everyone to the church’s laughing stock.
I was still 25, and pregnant. In the afternoon, I texted him that I was headed to the house. He did not reply to my text or pick my calls.
I went back to my house. The door was locked. I expected him to be at work. I thought I would pick my things and leave before he came back.
I was scared he might assault me again. When I entered the house, I saw something like a note on the TV stand. I ignored it and walked towards our bedroom only to find Alfred dead on the floor. He had committed suicide and left behind a note. He left me a widow at the age of 25.
Alfred gave me a perfect wedding that led to an imperfect marriage. I could not bring myself to face the church and everyone else because they assumed that he had committed suicide because I cheated on him.
Worse, his suicide note did not mention the loans that he was struggling to service. It only mentioned my supposed infidelity and the divorce that I had proposed. ‘The son of a pastor can’t be divorced!’ His suicide note concluded. I have lived with this guilt in me.
Sometimes I blame myself for causing his death. I wish I just remained on the streets, where my nose ring belonged instead of pulling my ring off my nose for the church finger-ring.