I met Paul just after I had left an abusive relationship that drained me. That was in 2012. When I met him, it was good. There was joy in me again.

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Then, after our first time together, I became pregnant. He was not happy about it. When I told him, he did not want it. He gave me some sort of drugs; I do not know where he got them and told me to use them, that it would flush the baby away. I took them. Instead of normal bleeding, some brownish matter came out of my body. I told him immediately that this was not normal, and that was when Paul decided to shut me out of his life for no reason. I did not know what my offense was. Perhaps it was getting pregnant after our first night, but these things do happen. Maybe he did not see it that way.

I would send Paul messages and get no response. He did not return my calls. He shut me out completely. Even when I asked my friends to talk to him on my behalf, Paul did not mind lying to them. He denied being responsible to my female friend and accused my male friend instead.

So, I took it upon myself to flush the baby out. I went to an herbalist a friend had recommended. At the time, I was four months in. The process was not unusual, but it was very, very uncomfortable. It got the work done. I practically pushed the baby out on my own, thinking it was just blood. In the process, the cord was cut, and part of it slipped back into me. That caused a problem that took months to recover from. I consistently bled lumps for a long time before it finally stopped, causing lumps of bleeding for almost another month.

One evening, when I thought the worst was over, the bleeding started again. This time, it would not stop. A friend rushed me to the hospital, and I was taken to the theatre for an evacuation. I know that day, Grace spoke for me. I was on the bridge of the dead. In fact, they said I was almost pronounced dead.

After I was discharged, I called Paul. I said I wanted him to send me money for medication. After all, that was the best thing he could do. But no, Paul saw it as a chance. He insulted me and called me names, as if it were therapeutic. Even my family was on the receiving end of his insults.

My family was angry too. I am from an African and staunchly Christian home, so you know that abortion is the worst thing you can ever do. I did that, and I was judged. They looked at me with disgust. Uncles, aunties, nieces, and nephews. I was used to set an example for the younger ones. They said if you try it, you will die like her. It was hard, but it was my shame, so I faced it.

Then one day again, I called Paul. Maybe for myself, I needed that. Paul insulted me once more. This time, with all the bitterness in me, all the pain, I cursed him. I said, Paul, you are not going to hear the cry of a baby in your home. But if by miracle you have children, they will cause you pain. If you have a girl child, she will suffer the ordeal you put me through, and worse. And except I reverse it with the blood of a child I will give birth to, it will remain.

After all these happened, he got married the next year. Somehow news began to fly about his wife miscarrying every time. So one day, after a whole introspection, I reversed the curse. I even went as far as fasting for her. I felt it was not her fault. She had no hand in the monster that Paul is, so I did the right thing.

Now he is sending me messages. He says he has gone somewhere, and they tell him I am the cause of his suffering, that I have cursed him, and he needs me to reverse it so he can have his life back. I told him I am not responsible for his problem, because he is yet to have a child until now.

Is There A Perfect One Out There For Everyone?

 

Now I am here, in my thoughts. Is it because the curse I laid on him is not reversed, even if not by the blood of the child I lost? I am not married, neither have I been able to conceive since that incident. Or is it just a coincidence?

If you think it is still me, how do I go about it? Because I really do not want to be entangled with anyone’s problem.

—Aku

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