WHAT DO WE DO PIECES FROM MAIRO~1
one thing they don’t tell you is how grief will turn you madly inward.
The season of heartache is slow to fade, but just as the
leaves shall grow again, hope shall take its place in the hearts of those who
have suffered grief.
“I married early” as most people put it. I was nineteen when I met
Ndikha. A loving and caring man, he understood me the most and was ready to
give his all for me. I didn’t want to waste time, when he proposed- I accepted.
I moved in with him and we began our ‘happily ever-after.’ I swear, he was my
world. My In and Out.
I loved how he could find the sun amidst the storm. I knew I had found the
right man and a perfect father for our soon-to-come kids.
Two years down the line, a lot of things had changed for us. We
had grown fond of each other and were getting successful. Ndikha was always sweet, he
was the character in a dream which I didn’t wish to wake up from.
Towards the end of the year, he broke the saddest news I never thought of. He said
he was travelling to Seychelles. He wanted to make it big for us. He promised
he was going to make all proper arrangements for me to follow him once he
settled. I believed him. There was no reason not to trust his word. This was
the man after my own heart.
He left a week before Christmas. We said our goodbyes in the right way as
couples do. Tearful and so worn out.
That year’s Christmas wasn’t the same. I spent the whole week
indoors. I had my family calling me and coming to visit. It felt like I had
lost a greater part of me. My backbone.
On New Year’s Eve, my friend Chipo came by the house. She had all the reasons
why I needed to go out for some air. I followed her to some jazz music show in
town. We stayed up out till the 1st January. There were a lot of
happy faces around, my thoughts rested upon Ndikha my husband, he hadn’t called
to wish me a Happy New Year yet. I kept trying to reach him on WhatsApp calls and
sent him countless messages but there was no response.
We drove back home with Chipo. When the day broke, we drove around town to a
new restaurant owned by an old friend. It was the opening day.
I kept gazing at
my phone all the time I was there. I still didn’t get any message from Ndikha.
I confided in Chipo over it and she comforted me not to worry over it saying
that maybe he was caught up with work or something.
A day turned into two then a week and it was two complete weeks
without hearing from my husband. I was panicking. I had timelessly tried to
reach out to his family asking if they had spoken with him but they all said NO!!
I didn’t know anyone to reach in Seychelles, I would have asked them the
whereabouts of my husband. Chipo took pity on me and promised to ask around if
there would be anyone to help us. But nothing positive came out.
Weeks turned into months – it was six months then and still Ndikha didn’t send
a text neither did he make a call. His line was even out of reach. I got
anxious and tensed.
One morning, there was a bang at the door. It was so loud that it
made my heart sink and excited at the same time. Excited for I thought it was
the love of my life back to my arms and the aching for I had been awaken from a
dream where my husband was back.
I went to the door and it was Ndikha’s kinsmen, his mother and his two sisters.
Five people were standing at that door with angry faces. I let them in and offered
them a seat. They didn’t look as pleased and happy as they used to before their
son left the country. One of the sisters handled a note to me; “here, read
this. It’s from your husband.” I received the letter with shaky hands. My thoughts
rested on what would be the contents of that letter. And it read;
“Dearest Mairo,
I will never forget the moment I met you.
I fell for someone I never thought I would fall for
and I want you to remember one thing,
wherever you go, I will always cherish the moments I spent with you.
I know you’d be okay without me.
Love,
Ndikha.”
To be
Continued……
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