Thoughts of my death have not been my companion this entire year. You will never understand how exciting that is for me. Every year since 2005, I’d wish myself dead at least four times a year. Things would get really difficult; people would prove to be unreliable, ruthless and insensible. Somehow, it made sense for me to die, I had no place in this world. 

Have you ever loved someone that made you want to die almost every single day? To think that maybe in death they would finally SEE you, I mean really see you. Appreciate the person you are and see the value you bring to their life. I have, time and time again. Lovers and friends alike made my life living hell. Come to think of it, that is probably what I attracted. A lot of the situations I found myself in were a result of me not taking red flags or myself seriously.

The reason I haven’t thought about my death is that I’ve spent the year distracted. With all that’s happening, I have had little to no time to have my own pity party. Instead, I’ve spent time celebrating small victories like waking up on a comfortable bed, being an awesome human being, cutting my poisons out of my life, oh jah, you should see how beautifully my afro has grown (love it). I’ve enjoyed trimming my nails every week too.

For me, it has been fascinating to watch the entire world getting disrupted. This time I wasn’t the one crumbling. In a way, I found a lot of comfort in all the chaos. Found my centre and watched everything burn. Is it crazy to say I grinned inside as I observed recurring hysteria? Finally, everything made sense to me. Order was being restored through pain, DEATH. Chaos was birthing order.

Death symbolises the beginning of a new life. It changes the normal way of life, forces one to see life for what it truly is, a series of fleeting moments. So, if we aren’t permanent fixtures in this life, why spend so much time doing things that don’t matter and bring no joy? Why not just say “Screw this, I’m living for me now”?

I have found peace in seeing people suffering and others dying. Have returned to my centre and found the meaning of life. Its temporary status has forced me to be intentional with the things that I do and the relationships I engage in. Death has compelled me to have a better relationship with myself, to balance the energies that I possess. Realise how my darkness is as important as my light. Most importantly, to appreciate the people that I have in my life. I want beautiful moments with those I treasure. To be able to celebrate my people when they pass and not mourn for missed opportunities.

Most days I spend laughing and staying in touch with loved ones. I’m most creative when I am in positive spaces so I spend some time writing as well👩🏾‍💻. I decided I want to create short films, so I’ve been working on a script. Storytelling is my passion. I miss my cat, Bella, so I think I should get a new one (if my dad allows her in the house).

Healing 👸🏾is what I gifted myself, it’s an ongoing process which cannot be rushed. I remain unapologetic about putting myself first, loving myself above anyone else in this world. Anything that gives me or has the potential of giving me sleepless nights is quickly kicked to the curb.

Show the people that you love how much you appreciate them. Go on, pick up the phone and call. Buy a flower pot and attach a cute message. Draw stick people in love and send to a deserving person.🥰🥰

How has your life changed this year?

When I eventually got the courage to tell someone, her response was so dismissive that I regretted telling her my experience. A few minutes after our conversation, I went to the office restroom and wept. I cried for the rose-coloured glasses that I had lost, for the last bit of innocence that had been taken from me. That is when I knew that I was completely alone, no one would understand, I wasn’t even sure anyone would ever care. Just like that, I kept my secret, so deep in my darkest corner that I soon forgot about it. The thing about trauma is how it manifests itself so negatively in my life. I tend to lash out or be so harsh with those I love, it’s a bit unfair, I know.

It was in September 2009, had just turned 25 and felt on top of my game when my life came to an end, I literally stopped living, I just existed. I had a job that paid me enough to afford an apartment in a good neighbourhood, and a few small luxuries. When *Khukhulelangoqo, came into my life, I felt like my life was coming together nicely. I mean he had one of the top posts abroad in one of these institutions that deal with maintaining good relations between countries, came from that blue blood family, and I didn’t have the pressure of daily maintenance (pleasures of long distance relationships). He was such a gentleman, always polite, reminding everyone around us to treat me with respect. What he would later do to me was the furthest thing from my mind, the signs were never there, guys, I promise you. I know how people talk about red flags, I saw none. Looking back today, I still would have never imagined what happened was possible, not in my wildest dreams.

Khukhulela came home that month and as usual booked himself into a hotel suite which we would stay in for the rest of his visit. Every day I was chauffeured between work, the hotel, and every other errand I wanted to run. So on this particular Wednesday, when I got ‘home’ I found him chilling with some of old colleagues so I asked if I could go to the bar for dinner and drinks. Late into the night, he called (I was still at the bar) to inform me that he was going to the famous gambling place a short drive from where we were staying, and I didn’t mind. For me, the drinks flowed and when I had had enough, I went to retire as I had work the following day. 

 I knew he had gotten back because, I felt him feel me up. I responded, I mean he was the bae right. Suddenly, he turned me over and I paid him no mind until I felt his member positioned against the ‘wrong’ hole. Naturally, I tensed up and calmly said, “Careful, wrong hole, babe.” His response sent chills down my spine as he continued to shove himself in. I felt a bit sick when I realised he had no intention of stopping. I started begging him to stop and he wouldn’t he just kept at it. I started screaming and he pinned my head into the pillow turning my screams into mere muffles. No one came. I felt my body split and felt my skin tear. The pain was excruciating, I have never felt anything like it, keep in mind that I have given birth twice, had surgery, injured my neck and knee during taekwando tournaments. Nothing, I mean nothing can describe that pain. At some point it felt like an out of body experience, there was no way that was happening to me, worse, no way my man would do that to me. I mean he was a good man, he wouldn’t dare, right? Wrong! At some point I passed out, it was too much.

When I woke up, he was peacefully sleeping next to me, obviously without a care in the world. All I thought I could do was wait till morning. The confusion I was in. Why would he do that to me? I mean I was his girlfriend, we could have had a conversation about being adventurous if that was what he wanted. My response would still have been ‘NO’. My voice was silenced, my body violated. Is it even rape if my boyfriend has sex with me even when I don’t want, worse in ways I never have sex in? He’s my man, does he not own my body? I mean he already had a say in how I dressed.

The morning after, he was his usual self, smiling and kissy kissy like nothing had happened. If it wasn’t for the pain in my butt, I would say I imagined it all. I didn’t know if I should bring it up, if I did, would he do it again or beat me up? Would he accuse me of being drunk and not remembering what had happened? I know very well how people always dismiss girls claiming drunkenness on their part. I mean, we don’t remember things because we’re drunk right. Load of bull if you ask me. Anyway, I was now afraid of him. As I was leaving he told me that I would knock off early for the remainder of that week. Not sure who he called at my workplace but true to his word, his chauffeur picked me up at lunch and no one raised an eyebrow. I did come out to someone at work, his relative. And as already mentioned, she dismissed me.

From that day onwards, I knew never to deny any men I dated. They could have sex with me anytime, anywhere, even when I was uncomfortable with it. I was avoiding being raped again. I started being extra careful with my guy friends as well, if they were inappropriate with me, which most of them still are, I nervously laugh it off. Drinks from strangers are a no-no, so are rides and dates. The only way of going on a date is if there’s someone I trust who knows my date and a girlfriend on standby in case of emergency. I always text someone of where I’m going on a date, identity of the person and what car they drive. Oh, I show up in my own car. I don’t want to set men off and get ‘punished’ for it. I wish I was angry with men and their entitlement to women’s bodies. I’m not, I am more afraid of them than resentful. My society also thinks it’s okay for my kind to be dominated by men, so yeah. It really is a battle to stay alive.

Now it always gets to me when someone pokes fun or implies that a female is lying that she has been sexually violated. Things that people say that break my heart, “Why was she quiet all this time?” “Where’s her evidence?” “I’ll choose to stay clear on this one and let the courts decide.” “The thing about girls is that they all claim to have been raped.” “Look at her lips, they’re good for a blow job.” “She wanted it, look at how she dresses.” “What did she expect going there with him?” I wish I could lie and say it doesn’t bother me what you will say about me after reading this, it does, a whole lot. Your actions or lack of, contribute either positively or negatively to rape culture. It matters to me what side you’re on.

I thought about reporting him, until I remembered who he was. I mean for real. He had, still has a lot of power especially within our justice system. He wouldn’t even need to make a call to kill the case, people would do it themselves nje. I would have to fight smarter, get supporters at his level who would fight with me. I was only 25, the daughter of a high school teacher and a nurse. He would have been backed by the kind of power that snuffs life out like it means nothing. Keeping quiet was the best thing I could have done for myself I think. I would have been crucified worse than Jesus. Men with power are dangerous, that power is used against you at one point or another. Actually, men are raised to be dangerous even without all that power brought on by status.

I’ve had to live with the fear of men. Sometimes I cannot sleep in my own bedroom because, I’m afraid someone might break in and take advantage of me. When my children left to go and live with their fathers, I was afraid of living alone. God sent a friend to move in with me and she stayed there for months before her job took her to another town. We never spoke about her moving in, somehow, she saw that I needed her. My support, I’ve leaned on her so heavily and never said thank you. I felt protected with her around, such a heaven-sent soul, wouldn’t have survived that flat without her. I also cannot be alone in an elevator with men even if it’s just one of them. My brain shut down that I have the memory but not the nightmares, I don’t know if you understand. So it’s like telling a story that is someone else’s yet it is my own, I just somehow refuse to feel the pain that I’m supposed to. I’m afraid of therapy because, it means confronting and reliving some of the pain that is closed off. I fear for my children and always pray for their protection. The world is a bit bleak for me, I am more realist than head in the clouds.

I slip further from reality because, living in a fantasy world beats this any day. People always claim they want us to speak out about abuse but I know that that is always dependent on who the perpetrator is. I wish I could just splash the man who raped me all over town. But I cannot because, I was taught by society, especially women to think about his welfare more than mine. I should consider how this whole thing will affect his wife and children. You know he has daughters, sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t molest them or how hard he would fight for his family if another man did to them what he did to me.

A ‘mute him’ campaign on social media will also not bring me justice. It’ll be a chance for people with double standards to get some traction in my name, I’ve seen it happen with others. But social media has really worked wonders in getting other girls closure and justice, my heart always rejoices when that happens. I don’t know how to help myself through the trauma. I’ve tried drinking everything away, but that left me feeling worse. Sometimes I find myself crying for sweet nothing leaving my friends hella confused kutsi what happened. I want something beyond “I’m so sorry that happened to you, if there’s anything I can do please let me know.” Don’t ask me what it is because in almost 11 years, I haven’t figured it out.

Today, I wasn’t sure about writing this blog. It’s a story that people don’t want to hear because, they prefer to sit on the fence and do nothing. A pregnant girl will be kicked out from home faster than extend a hand to a rape survivor. MY society is messed up. It thrives on inflicting pain on the already injured.

Doing an introspection is a difficult thing to do mainly because, it means I have to confront certain truths about myself that I’d rather not. It’s like constantly confronting an enemy whose presence I prefer not acknowledging. After my last blog, the question of why I had an abortion kept coming up. The ladies who were brave enough to POLITELY ask really forced me to go deep into myself. Thank you, loves💜💜 for the conversations that went on after, I can’t thank you enough. The decision to have an abortion seemed so irrational especially since my partner and I had spoken about having a daughter prior to being pregnant. Also, the relationship seemed to be going well as my partner was supportive. Like everything else in life, things are not always as they seem.

The decision to have an abortion is nonsensical and wrong if your world is a simple “black or white”. In mine, between those two colours is a series of never ending colour ranges. Because of those colourful parts, I get to make unpopular choices that people are uncomfortable talking about. In this case, when I got pregnant, I realised I had a right to choose. And I did, I chose life, for myself. In the history of my entire relationship, which had been about half a decade at the time, that was the ONLY time I felt fully supported, no questions asked. That meant the world to me, I felt heard. Like I was a normal human being that mattered. Why though? Why did I have to have Ndalo deprived of life? Simple, we were not ready.

💜 Financially, I could only afford two children. My salary was commission based. Like i got E0.00 from my employer. Every cent counted. To be able to get to a small-inyana E15 000, I would huff and puff more energy than those who’d get E25 000. That’s what commission means-I was new, big clients already had advertising agents, those don’t need to be convinced, it’s part of their communications budget. All they had to do was stroll into work and breathe. I had the little guys who couldn’t always afford advertising. On the worst months, it could really be used for basics for only three people, myself included. In 2015, I could single- handedly take care of the family without hassles. Unknowingly, the following years would become rather more difficult making me regret the decision to abort even less. My partner on the other hand had a decent job, that’s being modest. He had a great job actually. Had been working for way longer than I had so he was financially stable. The thing though, was that his money had too many dependents, something I had not been aware of when the baby talk started. I’d rather not get much into that because, that’s his story more than it is mine. But I had become painfully aware of how much responsibility he had and I didn’t feel right about bringing a child into that. I could foresee many fights about how the child would be raised. 😭😭 Parents know this too well. I was not ready neither did I ever see myself ready to go into this battle, it would be unfair to all involved including the baby.

💜Physically, I was not ready for this one. My pregnancy(2014) prior to this one(2015) had been complicated from the get go. I had to be hospitalised every now and then for the entire duration of the pregnancy. I have a malfunctioning heart (easiest way to explain it), something that was discovered during the pregnancy. During my last trimester I had to be transferred to South Africa for two surgeries; a mitral valve replacement and a C-section. Luckily, the cardio-surgeon decided it best to wait until the baby was born to avoid too much stress on the body. Baby was born prematurely soon after, surgically. The surgery had had complications and I lost a lot of blood. Recovery was a bitch. With that experience, I felt my body had not recovered. Plus, I hadn’t had my heart surgery yet so it’d be the same experience all over again. My family wasn’t ready for that too. My mother would always have this glassy look each time she’d come into the room and find me hooked on IVs and an oxygen tube. Naaaahhnaaahhh, nope 🙅🏾‍♀️🙅🏾‍♀️ I wasn’t going through it again.

💜 Spiritually lost is where my soul was. As an Adventist, I was disfellowshipped when I got pregnant. That means I was removed from being an official member of the church. I could still go to church with my children minus all the other church duties. I couldn’t even partake in holy communion, you guys🥺🥺. Cruel. I was in a singing group, I loved it with every bit of my soul. I couldn’t sing anymore. I have a beautiful alto/ tenor voice, no one would appreciate the melody it made anymore. My church is very old school no issues there, in fact I love that about it. The issue is how unforgiving and harsh Christians at my church are. I felt lost, there really was no one to talk to about anything. People talked in a hushed tone around me. When I had my first two children, I had been so grounded and my faith unshaken. It was easy to transfer good energy to them as they grew inside me. This time around, I felt that the energy I was nurturing was off, like that of a vagabond. Okay, I’m unable to articulate this one properly. But my spirit was untethered, strong, full of darkness and pain stricken. I don’t think a person in that space should carry a child, it’s just off. What if I had a troublesome child who was ungovernable? I wouldn’t be in the right mind to deal with that. I don’t know the type of spirits my family possesses because, I don’t know where I come from beyond my parents. I only know my mum’s father who numbed himself with alcohol his entire adult life. Nothing to say there. I cannot speak on the spirituality of the father of my dead children too…

💜Socially, I had no friends and my family is no longer as close knit as is used to be. I’d withdrawn from society and spent most of my time at home. The only time I went out was to go to work and church only. The feeling of isolation was so bad I felt like I was being slowly sucked into walls. When I couldn’t connect to anyone, I wondered if I would be able to connect to our child after birth. You know when you meet someone online and you chat away 24/7 and then when you meet them you cannot say more than two sentences to each other? That was scary for me. An unacceptable relationship between a parent and child. I also felt estranged from my partner. How were were we going to parent the young one if our communication channels were blocked?

💜Emotionally, the relationship was on a dormant volcano. Now, in this beloved relationship of mine I had no voice. Which is why I was pleasantly surprised when my decision not to have the baby was not only supported but my partner was fully present. Months leading to the pregnancy a lot of things had happened between us causing me to emotionally disconnect from him. We stayed away from each other for little short of a year. The day we conceived, it was the first time we were seeing each other away from people. I had only seen him 3 times before then. I need to mention that we have a deadly sexual attraction towards each other, it was that way the entire decade of the relationship. We’re are best kept far far far from each other. On that day, we spoke nothing of substance, all we did was have tantric sex. That one time was enough, now we were having a baby we weren’t entirely sure we still wanted. I mean, we hadn’t decided if we still wanted to be together or not. In the weeks to follow we would get back together, but in that moment, it was nothing but sex between people who used to know each other. Don’t even ask why we didn’t use protection, I have no answers. Irresponsible, I know, but such is the nature of a human being.

Apart from the fact that we were not emotionally committed to each other at the time, I didn’t trust him. I have a fear of being abandoned, and my partner had a history of doing just that. When the going gets tough he leaves without notice only to return when the dust settles. Case in point, in 2012, two years into the relationship, I got pregnant. By the time I discovered, he had already travelled to Europe for business. Before he left, I had been sickly and he had thrown that “you’re pregnant” line at me. I had laughed it off because we both knew I was on birth control. So you can imagine my surprise when tests confirmed that I was with child. I thought I had malaria because, I’d travelled to Mozambique with some friends on the weekend he left. When I let him know, hehehe👏🏾👏🏾, he did that thing that our wonderful, loving men normally do, 💨💨💨. I didn’t know if I should go to his mum and tell her, or what. We were on good terms. Doing that felt a bit extreme. So I waited for him to calm down. I made all sorts of excuses for him. I called him nearly everyday for two weeks to no avail. Texts went unresponded. So I stopped contacting him, what sensible choice did I have? He was on another continent and I couldn’t fly myself to see him. Naturally, that time was so stressful and my body finally gave up. In the middle of my second trimester, I had a miscarriage. That was a week leading to Bushfire… painful memory. He got in touch that day while I was at the hospital. My friend, Vee, had been livid, called him up and told him I had had a miscarriage that morning. She went to town. You know how heated girls get when you mess with their friends. I had long given up on him and us, I had been adamant in keeping him in the dark, angitsi he had no interest in being around. There was no need to tell him anything. In any case, he would go back to “seclusion” for an additional two months before resurfacing. After that any other time when I disobeyed him; missing calls, visiting friends without consulting, being angry when he upset me,etc, I would be sanctioned with weeks of silent treatment, withdrawal of affection, withdrawal of financial support, withdrawal of physical touch. I’d become a hot mess. Sometimes I’d get that “Who do you think you are?” served cold. I’d sit in the corner and weep. I wasn’t as indispensable as I thought. I was a domesticated thing not pet (they at least have the freedom to be). Once he said, “You should be grateful when I walk out on you, it’s for your own good.” I believed it.

Fast forward to three years later, how could I trust him not to abandon us? He’d done it to me so many times, I had stopped counting. I didn’t care much about me, but the baby, I just couldn’t risk it. I wouldn’t subject the baby to a parent who would take care of her based on a mood. I couldn’t. Imagine growing up with a father that comes in and out of your life at will. Nopety, nope.

For that last bit of this story coupled with everything else, there was no way in my right mind I could have my lover’s child. It didn’t matter how much I loved him, it would have been irresponsible to do so. It made sense then and now more than ever, it’s clear as day why I did it. I don’t regret my choice. I can live with the consequences. My abortion doesn’t define who I am, it was just a terrible life lesson. My child, our children actually, are better off dead. We would have been terrible parents. Abortion shouldn’t be taken lightly, neither should bringing a soul into this world. That soul is your responsibility for life.

Thank you for being a part of my healing process❤. Remember to be kind to others, you really don’t know what they are going through. Channel good energy to others and the universe will bring that back tenfold😍😍. Stay blessed.

Being at home during this lockdown had been a good time to sit alone and reflect. It’s been a time to be still and sit in my feelings, allowing myself to FEEL and not be guilty, ashamed nor worried about what others will say about my mood. One of the feelings I had to sit in is sadness. I’ve never allowed myself to properly acknowledge that feeling because, how dare I? Other people are going through worse, I’m a big girl, I should act like one.

In ABORTION IS FAMILY PLANNING (sorry, I haven’t figured out how to do the link thingy🐵)I mentioned how abortion is devastating, draining and traumatic. Emotions overcame me while writing that piece so I left it hanging. Since then, I’ve had these recurring thoughts about my abortion. It’s not nightmarish nor do I lose sleep over it. It’s just the secrecy- it really is brutal and crushing. There’s no one to talk to honestly and openly about losing my “bean”, Buhlebendalo.

Sometimes I’m curious about what she would have wanted for her fifth birthday this December. I can almost see your confused look, and maybe a part of you is asking why I care because, I got rid of her. What being sentimental now is about. The truth is I cared then as I care now. I did what I thought and still believe was the right thing.

I wonder what who Ndalo would look like? Would she have my beautiful eyes and her dad’s larger than life ears? Would she have been a she even🙂? A few years back, we’d spoken about having a daughter. And her personality, would she be feisty like my other children? There’s no one to have this crazy talk with and share how my life has been with that missing piece of me. One of the biggest things had happened to me and no one was there for me to share it with. Initially, the pregnancy, then the abortion and lastly pain and mental health management. I had to do the hardest bits alone.

Sharing my sadness with no one is really hard folks. To have so many people around me and not know which one to speak to freely is enough to send me over the edge. Sometimes, all I need is to burst out in a fistful of tears on a friend’s shoulder. She who won’t mind my ugly crying face. Ooooooohhhhh, I’m so ugly when I cry, I look like an ogre on Lord of the Rings. The whole face is so weird and wet from sweat, tears and snort. I don’t know if I’m the only one who’s afraid to be vulnerable in my friendships. Secrets, they are the real toxic substance among friends…

Prior to the procedure, everything was normal, except the part where I could not announce my pregnancy. I scheduled the appointment but, I was advised by the clinic to pick a date five or so weeks ahead. I had had surgery in recent months so they didn’t think it wise to do the extraction on the initially proposed time. The weeks preceding the abortion were interesting ones. I formed a bond with Ndalo, which is when I gave her the name. Took care of her by eating right and exercising. On occasions I’d give in to cravings. It seems mental I know but, as long as she was inside mummy, I’d take care of her. As evacuation day drew closer, I’d explain my reasons for not bringing her into this world. I told her about her brother, Lonwabo, who I’d lost in 2012 through a miscarriage at 12 weeks. In my heart, I hoped that “beans” also have a beautiful place they go to when this world isn’t good enough for them to be let in. I told her he’d be her company and they’d both slide down the rainbow together. I didn’t want to apologise because, I felt that meant my decision was wrong.

The clinic was clean and had a tranquil look, so calming as if to referee my internal storm. I was in a mood, Mr C could sense it, so he kept having this monologue in an effort to get things off my mind. How was he feeling then? I wonder, I did bully him into agreeing to do this. Okay, maybe not bully, but not once did I ask what he felt we should do. My procedure had been scheduled for 9am but, for some reason, the doctor would only be able to be at the clinic in the afternoon. I remember Mr C looking at me and his voice full of love as he said, “Maybe this is a sign. Maybe we shouldn’t go through with this. ” I was already in my feelings, I wanted to cry because, I knew having this baby would be disastrous. There was no turning back.

We sat at reception, I was hungry but couldn’t bring myself to eat anything. Another couple came through and the man left a while later. That lady sheepishly looked at me then quickly looked away. I sensed a little embarrassment at being left there, alone. But I could be wrong, maybe she just wasn’t feeling that way at all. Mr C’s hand tightened around mine as if to reassure me of his presence, he wouldn’t leave me there. He stayed, I’ll forever be grateful for that. The calming effect of his stroking fingers and forehead kisses cannot be put into words. Occasionally he’d ask if I was sure about the abortion and my automated response would be YES.

There were four of us ladies in that waiting room. We had been moved from the reception to a more comfortable lounge. Mr C was the only man there. The other ladies and I would occasionally lock eyes and in those stolen moments, we understood. We were sisters forever bound by that day and what we were about to experience together. What a way to bond. Sometimes I wonder where they are and who they were outside expectant mums. More importantly, I wonder if they are doing better than me mentally. Because wow, I’m struggling. For me, on that day, Mr C was there in every aspect. I however, failed him. I never asked how he was feeling, never held his hand, or allowed him to cry if that was what he needed. He was like those other ladies, alone. We’ve never grieved for any “beans” that we lost through both miscarriages and abortion.

That procedure room was so cold and unforgiving. It really was a place where “beans” were brought to die, a butcher’s room. I wish they’d do something about that. That room seemed to accuse me of murder, I swear. He wasn’t allowed in, I was alone and frightened. I would have what they call Vacuum Aspiration or Suction Abortion. The nurse had told me it would be painful so we opted for me to be sedated. The procedure under sedation is pricey. The nurse helped me onto that chair with stirrups, put me to sleep and the doctor went about his business. I don’t remember much about that doctor expect that he was a male and white. I done know if the experience would have been different if it was a female.

When I came to, I was screaming and crying. Hysterical honestly. I called out for him and the nurses said he had been waiting at reception for a good measure of time. What were his thoughts during the procedure or did he busy himself with work? I never asked. They said I needed an hour to rest after which he dressed me up and helped me into the car. That day, a part of me died with Ndalo. I cannot bring that pain into words. I just can’t.

Family Life Association of Swaziland (FLAS) has a post abortion counselling service which I didn’t use. I didn’t go there because, abortion is a crime in this country. If I showed up there, did the health care workers have an obligation to inform the police? I could already set myself being dragged out of my house and locked up for years. So I never went for my check up either. I prayed and hoped my cervix healed nicely.

The first year was truly a trying time. I tried not to resent Mr C because of the abortion. Over the years, I’ve learned to ignore the thoughts. Today was different. Opening up isn’t easy. On a day like this one I wonder about a sister who is too young to have a child but will have it anyway. How that pregnancy would affect her developing body. A bigger concern is for those who don’t have access to a proper clinic like the one I went to. They have to rely on dangerous concoctions or pills sourced from God knows when which could result in their death or permanent damage to their reproductive system. I also think about how others are struggling to conceive. Or the ones whose children die. Their pain is unimaginable. And the men who support us through the abortion period, do they feel any sense of loss? It’s a strange thing, this loss I feel.

I had the most interesting learning moment today as I watched Super Soul Sunday featuring Shonda Rhimes. Remember, I mentioned how I’m such a sucker for inspirational videos in my last blog. So, Shonda explains to Oprah how her life had transformed since she started saying YES to everything. In my head I’m like 😱 “Wow, Americans are getting crazier by the minute. What sane person says YES to everything?” For a minute I wondered if she’s going through a midlife crisis. So obviously I was a little conflicted as to whether I should continue to watch, I mean, what if she was being radical and would get me hooked in all her craziness. I’m so dare prone, I think it’s a weakness of mine😂. Actually, I was listening not watching (driving down Malagwane). To my surprise and delight, YES was specific to all things that she secretly wanted to do but was afraid to. 😅 phew, right?

The lesson was and still is, saying NO is a way of protecting oneself and keeping things just as they are. Keep the haven as is. If one desires change, then the time to say YES is definitely now. I know too well how my life has been limited and dictated to by fear. The fear of missing out, rejection, or the unknown generally. Most of all, I fear failure😖. I don’t think I’ve been confident enough in my life to grab opportunities as they presented themselves to me. They’ve been many, trust me. My reasons as to why I can’t take that job, go on that trip, start that business or sell that idea are endless. Too tired, busy, financially unprepared… Sounds familiar? 😄 I know hey. The truth is, putting myself out there and failing has me shivering in bed on a 38°C day🥵. It always feels like I’ll be exposed for being a fraud. I have so many insecurities but have mastered the art of camouflaging in theatrics and sarcasm.

So this morning at a networking session, we were invited to do an elevator pitch for our businesses. Lo and behold, Ms I Have A Home Services business sat her ass down and said zilch🤐 (uuhhhmmm ma’am hello🙄). I kid you not. Suddenly my throat was dry and words dololo. In my head, I’d done it when I first attending these sessions masi. In all honesty, I suddenly wasn’t confident in myself. Bad for business, goodness. Trust me, I banged my head on the steering wheel after. Missed opportunity. My YES opportunity was missed. In my defence, Shonda hadn’t spoken to me yet🙈. I guess growing up in an environment where it was 100% or nothing, the lesson was never to celebrate even the smallest achievement. I can’t even gracefully accept a compliment. Now, I’m not making excuses, just saying nje.

Growing up, I was an A student, anything other than that was unacceptable. Whenever I got home excited over achieving good grades in an exam, my dad would say, “98% is good BUT, what happened to the 2%?” Imagine at primary school level how disappointing it was for me. That applied to so many other things in my life as well. I always fell short in his eyes. If I wanted a celebration, I’d do it with mum before dad got back from work. I don’t know, maybe it was the teacher in him. He was very harsh with me. It just caused me a lot of pain. So in high school, I unconsciously decided to stop caring about academics. That attitude was carried over to tertiary. So bad was the situation that I had zero ambition and just wanted to be a housewife. That’s probably how I ended up dating men with bags of money, my entire life. Save for two boys who are successful unconventinally. A series of NOs consumed any dream I had. When I say I’m a fraud, I mean my life is not all together and going according to plan as some may think. In all my confidence and later life achievements, I’m still an 8 year old who wants and needs approval from dad.

Back to Shonda’s interview, up until today, I hadn’t realised how I had in some part adopted “saying YES”. Looking at my life and being unhappy about it, change was inevitable. And I’m determined to succeed at whatever cost. When an opportunity to go back to school presented itself, I said, “YES”. The same thing went for love, new friends, beliefs, spirituality and business. The universe faithfully gave me a big fat YES in return. In my new life, old beliefs and habits cannot possibly help me thrive. Everything has a price and this is no different. It means i miss first day of school, beautiful drawings, first tooth coming out, assisting with homework or attending recitals or sports days. I’m a good mother, I just cannot be there for many of these things. In fact, I’m not there to watch them grow😭😭. Attending class also means I cannot give clients my full attention at times especially during an exam. Submission of assignments is late or never at times because, work calls. I don’t have it all. But I’m happy with my decisions. Focus is on the bigger picture.

Being an entrepreneur- student- parent is challenging but rewarding😅. The most comforting thing is that my children will look at me with pride just as they do now. This time though, they will say, “Thank you for teaching us how to be great. How to find our purpose in life”. We will be sipping sundowners at our holiday home in Honolulu when they say this. ❤❤❤

Ooohhhhh, I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time. 😉thank you for reading.

The day I stopped fantasing about marriage was the day I woke up to Njabu. I woke up to a woman capable of doing anything and everything she wants. I’m an achiever and for a moment there, I had forgotten who I was. Pursuing the “just married” tag became so important, I lost sight of my purpose. Here goes today’s thought…

So as I sat on my bed wondering if I’d ever be happy, in this case, happiness had a lot to do with getting hitched to my then boyfriend, I thought long and hard about how I would convince him I was worthy of bearing the title Mrs C. 😂😂😂it’s laughable now, imagine me at my ‘big’ age thinking of ways to convince a person I’d been with for almost a decade to marry me. 🤪🤪🤪 The challenge with my dream was that had I neglected to clearly state my vision for the relationship when it started off. To me, it was obvious and inevitable for couples to marry masi, aaahhhhh no ma’am, as I would later learn😮.

Some ladies can relate to this. You think everything is going well and you’ll be married soon. Frustration starts setting in when he’s constantly elusive about when it’ll happen. It’s easy to blame him, to say how underwhelming men are. I’m not saying they aren’t, but many of the things that happened to me have me as a major player. I was played in a big way. Reality is, in that game, I was an enabler, so at some point, I started playing myself. It was just easier to blame Mr. C for everything that was going wrong. Taking responsibility is not an easy thing to do. Truth is, I was a 🤡 and expected to be treated better than I was treating myself. You teach people how to treat you. I gave up my crown to play with swine, I thought I’d stay clean, mxm, clown.

I ramble, yoh 😂😂😂 forgive me. Anyway, I started wondering why I was so unhappy and why I was so obsessed with becoming a Mrs. I knew deep down that Mr. C was not right for me at that time but was insisting on it. The truth was I had been with him for so long and leaving was not an option. Who would I be without him? What would I do with myself? I had been so wrapped up in his life that I had no purpose if I could not please him😓. My life had become about bending over backwards to cater to the needs of my mans. Dreams of my own no longer existed, only what he allowed for me. Pitiful. I had become a spineless ‘pick- me’. I was so desperate for marriage, I needed it, craved it with my whole being. I had spent a decade of my life dedicated to a man, the least he could do was marry me. If I couldn’t have the life I was meant for, then marriage was the next best thing. My well deserved consolation for my pain. Sad way to see commitment, I know.

My obsession didn’t just come by, society had me by my sagging tits. I was 33, had 2 kids, and unmarried. Time was running out, they said. No one would want me the older I got, they said. My beauty was such a waste if I couldn’t land a husband, they annoyed me😤😤. Fury blinded me, I got obsessed with proving that I am not a failure. Unfortunately, I did that at the expense of my dignity, integrity, and worth. Misery was my bestie. I slipped into a negative and very dark space.

❤ The beauty of life is how no woman is an island. My friend, Tk watched me torture myself week after week. I think at some point she got tired, thank goodness. Realising that no amount of gin nor wine would fix this, I was too far gone to motivate myself to do better. She took matters into her hands and gave me this book, “The Power of Your Subconscious Mind” by Joseph Murphy to read. It wasn’t just about the book, we had many conversations about what kind of life we deserve. Mostly, how I was short changing myself. That woman, bless her, and this book saved my sanity. Reading brought me back from the land of hopelessness. Thank you, friend🥰😘

The path I am on was determined that day. Life took a turn for the better. Realising that I had control, full control over my thoughts, choices and life gave me endless power. Self-help books, audios and videos have become a big part of my life. Becoming the woman I was meant to be has become my purpose. Serving those around me using words is my joy. Having direction is the most liberating thing for me. Waking up and deciding what my life looks like today makes my heart sing. That is better than the marriage I had wanted for so long. Marriage is NOT an achievement, consolation prize. It’s a beautiful and sacred union of pure hearts, bloodlines, and souls. And I didn’t have that with Mr. C. Our hearts were too dark to ever bring light. Misery loves company.

These days, I’m focused on being the best version of me. Everyday is an opportunity to choose happiness above all. Life lessons are in everyday experiences. I guard and protect my heart. Also, I give love so freely. My name is Nonjabulo, the giver of joy. 🥰😘❤❣😍

I’ve perfected the art of smiling that people are convinced I’m a sweetheart. I’m not saying I’m not, but I’ve faked the happy look so much I’m not sure if being nice comes genuinely at all. My life is just full of tiny moments that are supposed to be fun but I’m so dark, living has become an extreme sport🧗🏾‍♀️really.

Pregnant 3-4 weeks, I stared at that damn test, hoping for it to read different. Another baby was the last thing I needed. I mean, I had so much on my plate already. My daughter was 3 months old! Pregnant, again? Wow, what in the world was I thinking? I wasn’t, that’s the truth. All I could think of at the time was how much he’d be angry.

Should I even tell this story????

To hell with it, I’ll telling. Okay, I was considering not continuing because, I was thinking how mad he’s going to be when you guys read this. Also, what will people think of me. And then I realise that I’m a product of my society. And this is my story, I can tell it to whomever I please, right? Anyway…

So, here I was at the office restroom cubicle trying to figure out my next move. My daughter’s father was in the country and would be seeing his daughter later that afternoon. I had no idea what I was going to say to him, hell, how would I even look at him in the one without falling apart. The life forming inside my belly wasn’t even his. 😱😱

I remember calmly walking into the office, making an appointment with the “new dad”, getting into my car and driving home. My whole body was on auto pilot that entire weekend.

By the time I saw him, my nerves were fried. All I could do was rest my head on his chest and soaked his shirt with tears. “I want an abortion, ” I blurted out in between sobs. I didn’t give him a chance to even process the news. I used tears to get what I needed, which was that foetus gone. Now, this man was a newly wed, technically not, this was his 2nd marriage. I didn’t want any permanent ties to him. Also I had a 3 month old daughter and a 9 yr old son. My money alone couldn’t cater for all these kids I kept producing.

I didn’t trust this man to take care of the baby should I give birth. When I got pregnant with our first back in 2012, he left me, technically he was in Ireland and decided to cut all ties with me. I got so stressed and experienced my first miscarriage at 4 months. He couldn’t be bothered by me. When he finally decided to come through a month after the miscarriage, I was only too happy to give him a second chance. I loved him too much to make him accountable. Call it dumb love, honestly.

Now, how could I trust him now 2 years later. Besides, he left me to marry another, months before getting me pregnant. I’m so upset, upset, upset… Why was I so stupid?

Anyway, I scheduled the abortion. As we drove to Sandton to see the doctor, I couldn’t help but feel my belly fill up with hatred for this man. Here I was doing this type of family planning because, somehow he kept drawing me into his dysfunctional love life. Truth is though, blame him all I want, I made the decision to stay. The why, I’m still figuring out.

Just like that, I became THAT girl. The one everyone thinks is horrible because, I chose abortion over life. I stand by my decision, I don’t lose sleep over it, but my sun dimmed. The world is a whole darker for me. I cannot trust anyone, especially those that claim to love me.

Abortion is devastating, draining, traumatic. It left me feeling a little empty. Okay, that’s a lie, it wasn’t emptiness I felt, it was indifference. I had to steel myself because, I have people who are dependent to me and falling apart is not an option for me. I never did get counselling. I don’t know how much damage I’ve caused to myself. Most people think it’s a cowardly way to deal with things, I think it’s the bravest thing I’ve every done. I never wish to go back there, ever.

It’s been 4 years, I still wonder what kind of babies we would have had. It’s so painful, I don’t feel like writing anymore😭😭😭😭😭😭

I celebrate my 35th birthday in two days, officially an aunty in my society😂😂😂. Can’t help but look back at the year that has been.

So I quit my real estate job in July 2018, to go back to school👩🏾‍🎓. I had E183 in my account and didn’t know how I was going to pay for my tuition. Hadn’t saved enough, actually I had been hoping to use my last commission to pay. Didn’t foresee my commission being withheld from me by my employer. Reminded me of when I resigned at the Times and got no salary even though I’d served notice. 🙄🙄 story for another day.

Now here I was, unemployed, broke, a boyfriend who was ghosting me, no clue how life would work out. I’d been praying for a miracle. My friends were praying with me. You know, bae says he ♥️ and wishes you nothing but the best for you, then turns around and offers 0 support even though you know he can. Yeah, that happened. That made me even more determined to stand on my own because, dependency creates abusive relations. Not good for a girl like me, I challenge men too much. I often find myself being punished for “disobedience”

I moved back home without so much as consulting my parents🙈🙈how inconsiderate, but I was in need. I had to give up, no that’s the wrong phrase, I decided to allow my children to be with their fathers in an effort to secure them a better life. Dad welcomed me back with open arms, although he was mad about how I “sold” his grand children. When I told him I had been accepted at uni and had no clue how I’d find that, he paid my tuition in a matter of days. Now talk about unconditional love from parents. I was floored, I could pursue my dreams without worrying about anything except doing well at school. How life had turned around for me.

So I’m on my second year of pursuing my Journalism studies. Second time in varsity, I’m doing really well, I must say. I’ll graduate top of my class👩🏾‍🎓👩🏾‍🎓. I’m embracing life as a student and loving it🥰🥰 my family is very supportive and so are my friends. Everyday, I work on myself. Sometimes I’m doing great, other times 👎🏾. I’ll continue to share my stories with you.