I have four siblings. Three older ones and a younger sister. My parents divorced when I was four years old. My younger sister was a baby, so she stayed with my mother. My father took all four of us away.

We lived with several stepmothers. Yes. Several. My father couldn’t keep his women. We moved in with a new woman as often as ECG puts out lights. These women were not usually kind. My siblings and I have suffered at the hands of cruel stepmothers. Sometimes we went to bed without food. I sold water when I was six years old. In my time, iced water was carried in buckets, and served with cups. I ran after vehicles to sell water. I also worked as a head porter at the lorry station in my town. I did these things so that I could afford food for me and my siblings. I was the youngest among the four of us, but I was also the provider.

My father had no idea the things I did to survive. My stepmother at the time was a two-faced snake. She treated us like eggs in his presence and kicked us like football in his absence. I did not resent my father for his ignorance, no. I  resented my mother. I blamed her for our afflictions. She was the one who abandoned us, out of spite for my father. I don’t have much love for her. It was my father I loved until I completed senior high school.

When I was in class six, my stepmother died. She was the one who was kindest to us. Her death wrecked me. I think it wrecked my father too. He didn’t jump into the arms of a new stepmother. This actually made me happy. I was not a typical child. I don’t think I ever had the chance to be a child. So I took my happiness where I could get it. Even if it meant my father having girlfriends who didn’t interfere in our lives.

Alas! My little ray of happiness was snatched away when my father got married again. I made sure not to let it weigh me down. I had just completed SHS and there was no way I would allow myself to be maltreated by another stepmother. I thought I had seen them all. The many kinds of step-monsters that existed. But I hadn’t dealt with this species before. She was a whispering spirit. She never came at me or attacked me directly. That would be too obvious. She used my father to do her bidding. The man I loved had turned into a completely different person. This new man told me he had had enough of me, and he would no longer be financially responsible for me. He didn’t care about my education anymore, I was on my own. I was the most intelligent among my siblings, but my education was cut short. He said at 18, I was a grown woman.

My new step-monster came into the marriage with three children, each with their father, yet my father was the one who provided for all their needs. My father’s care and affection were directed at them. My older siblings had moved out and started their own lives. My mother had come to leave my younger sister with us. So it was just the two of us, against my father and his new family.

A man in my neighborhood took pity on us and offered to help us from time to time. As the saying goes, there is no free lunch. In exchange for his help, this man took from me what I did not consent to, my body. I was so angry and bitter towards men. I hated men but endured them enough to get money from them. I needed the money to look after myself and my sister.

Things got worse. I got pregnant. I kept it, had the baby, and lost the baby in 2002. That’s another story on its own. All of this happened while we still lived in my father’s house. We were not cordial with him, my stepmother, and my step-siblings. A little light shone in my darkness, and I got a job. I earned a reputation as a “hard girl”. I worked hard and bought pretty things with the money so I would look good. One day, on my way from work, one of my nosy neighbors told me my step-siblings beat my sister up. My reasoning left me after that. I rushed home and lay it on all of them. A punch for a punch. A slap for a slap. A scratch for a scratch. I’m sure they rue whatever deity possessed them to touch my precious little sister.

In the wake of dawn, I overheard the step-monster doing her witchery, whispering things into my father’s ears. She gave him an ultimatum. Either my father throws us out of the house or she would leave with her children. I found it funny that she expected my father to choose her over us. I chuckled and went back to sleep. On 4th April 2003 (I will never forget that day), it rained heavily, and my dear father threw us out in the rain.

Where were we supposed to go? My mother was in the village. Fortunately, a good samaritan came along and took us in. I quickly solicited help from my sugar daddies. Soon, I got enough to rent a room. My sister and I lived together, while I went about being wild and free. I didn’t have love in my heart for any man. My only goal was to sleep with as many men as possible, in order to maintain my hard girl reputation,  pay my bills, and take care of my sister.

Everything was working out perfectly, until my friend Ariana, who had been trying to take me to church, compelled me to attend a crusade with her. My life took a turn that night. I heard about the love of God, and I gave my life to Him. I changed. I became a Christian. All my sins were forgiven, but my past haunted me. The anger and bitterness in my heart were still there. I was afraid I would never love any man. I was a Christian but I still held on to the belief that men were the worst of God’s creations. I had vowed never to get married. Ariana too had vowed never to give up on me. She gave me Godly counsel, among other efforts so I’d see men differently.

As the good lord will have it, I met a man. I chastised him for the sound of his laughter, and the lines on his face when he frowned. I was hard on him, but his patience never wore out. He was determined to go through the fire, and hailstones with me. He promised to marry me, come what may. But the devil won’t leave me alone. He spoke to me, the devil spoke to me “are you sure you didn’t contract HIV, with the life you lived?” I said to myself “My village witches are uncivilized. Why is this now occurring to me, when I’ve found a good man who wants to marry me? I am a new creation. Get thee behind me, Satan! You will not steal my happiness.”

Despite my attempts to talk myself out of my fears, I just couldn’t shut the thoughts out. For the sake of my peace, I decided to take the test. The wedding was less than six months off, and the church would request a series of tests. I had to know my status before anyone else did. I was perfectly healthy but one could never tell when it comes to this disease. So I took the test. I couldn’t still my beating heart. It’s a miracle, my heart didn’t run out of my chest. I did three tests, at three different labs, and the results were the same. I WAS POSITIVE! I didn’t cry. I couldn’t have smiled. I couldn’t get a grip on my feelings. I switched off my phone for three weeks. I had conversations with God “Can’t I catch a break? Why would you heal my heart, just to shatter it all over again? Why are you like this?”

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Kwame, my fiancé had tried to reach me but couldn’t. He’d come to my place but my sister would turn him away. I told her to tell him that I was out of town, and I’d call him when I got back. After my three weeks hibernation, I called Kwame. I didn’t beat about the bush or try to sugarcoat things. I told him the truth, as plain as day. He was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, he said “This cannot stop us from getting married.” I shook my head “Maybe there is water in your ears. I will repeat myself, but slowly this time so…” “I heard you. We will get married as planned,” He interjected. “Eii Kwame, are you not afraid?” I still couldn’t believe it. He said he had read about antiretroviral drugs. “There’s control. You’ll be fine.” We went to the hospital together. We were both counseled, and I was given the ARV

We have been married for fifteen years, with five healthy children. Three strong boys, and two beautiful girls. None of them, including my husband, is positive. Isn’t God wonderful?

My husband is such a lovely husband. He is my world, my heartbeat, the best man I could ever have. He is a pastor, and I am a proud pastor’s wife. I look back at my past and I am glad I put my trust in God. He gave me beauty for ashes. My siblings are all doing well. My father left the step-monster for another woman.

I still don’t love my parents as I should. It has been my biggest challenge, but I’m working on it. I help them when there is a need to. I didn’t have the courage to share my story until I read the story about the girl who said she was bad luck to Kofi.

I hope my story confirms that fairytales exist. I have been living with HIV for over fifteen years. Indeed, God is good!

—Kukua

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