There is this thing about being young and generally being in love, that makes you feel you are invincible. Nothing or nobody seems to matter except you and your lover. I never expected to experience love at a young age, no, not with how strict my parents were. But something happened when I was in my fourth year in secondary school that changed everything.

I was home on holidays and was then using my mother’s katululu (the small phone with buttons) to chat with my friends via sms texts. One particular afternoon, I received a “Hello”. Back in the day, a message like this could make your day. Unlike these days when a “Hello” without a proper introduction and agenda could be left on read till your ancestors implore you to reply.

Anyway, I immediately responded to the greeting and asked, “Who could this be?” The sender responded with a call which I immediately picked up. He introduced himself as a junior primary schoolmate. I hadn’t seen him in a while but I recalled him. We had a good chat catching up on what we missed in each other’s lives over the years.

He told me he was going through his mother’s contact list and came across my mother’s name. He took a risk by texting the number only for me to reply. You know African mothers. They did not allow us to own phones or talk to members of the opposite sex back then. If found, you could be grounded or given an equally painful punishment. This did not keep us apart. We constantly talked and texted each other.

I enjoyed waking up to his “Good morning” texts and I loved going to sleep with his thoughts on my mind. It was such an amazing feeling. After two weeks of reconnecting, he confessed; “Trizah, I love you. Will you be my girlfriend?” I had never been told before that I was loved. Not even by my parents. That day my joy knew no bounds. My heart was beating faster than ever. It seemed as if it wanted to break my ribcage and beat from outside. I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach and a certain constriction whenever I thought of what he said.

With the way I felt about him, I wasted no time by trying to beat about the bush. I said yes to his proposal and a beautiful love journey began. There were moments when I felt that our love could be frozen and carried into the future. That’s how much we were in love.

Left to me alone, time would have crawled like a snail so our holidays would drag on. However, time flew by quickly and the holidays came to an end. We had to go back to school to complete the term so no more phone conversations. But where there’s love, there’s always a way. We continued to talk through mails and letters. I used to memorize his letters word for word. Sometimes I recited them when I missed him. I walked with the letters wherever I went. They were my most prized possessions.

Within the blink of an eye, we were done school. This gave us some freedom to explore our love. We wanted to meet but it was difficult to make plans. I knew my parents would never allow me to get out of their compound unless I was going to church, to fetch water from the river, or go to the Posho mill to bring flour. Because of this, he decided to come to my home. The audacity!

I was terrified of what my parents would do, but surprisingly, they received him warmly. They even left us alone in the sitting room and went about their business. My boyfriend and I were so overwhelmed by emotions that we hugged and kissed. We were quite daring. What if we had gotten caught? But what is love without any risks? I have never felt with anyone the way I felt with him that day.

He bought me a necklace which I treasured for a few hours before it got lost. Don’t call me careless, it fell when I was toying with it and I just couldn’t find it. We had the best time of our lives, but my parents wouldn’t allow him to visit again.

As time went on, our relationship suffered a slow and natural death. Actually, he was the one who started ignoring my calls and texts. I could send him a message today and he would reply a day after. I could call to hear how he was doing and he would pick up the call and say nothing. He would just breathe on the phone till I get tired and hung up.

I hated the silent treatment game. I wasn’t ready to play it. It is a kind of torture that I don’t wish for anyone. He seemed to enjoy it while I was hurting. So one evening, I chose to end the relationship. I wrote him a message and thanked him for what we had shared, asked for forgiveness for leaving him, and wished him well. I thought he would ignore the message as usual, but he chose to reply to this particular one.

The things he wrote were so cruel. It was as if he was in a contest for the best heartbreaker in town. The message tore my heart to pieces. All the energy I had when I sent the first message was gone. I couldn’t even reply to his response. I thought it wise to allow dust to settle so we could talk maturely. But that same evening my phone got lost. Now, I didn’t have anyone to talk to about my feelings. Thankfully, my mother figured out what was going on, and gave me a shoulder to cry on.

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The recovery process was not easy. There were times I felt horrible for ending the relationship. There were even times I contemplated calling him with a different number but let’s just say I was strong enough to keep myself together.

To keep myself busy, I enrolled in computer classes and tailoring classes. I also read books and novels which helped me to slowly forget about him.

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As fate would have it, we met again during my third year at the university. I had completely healed by then. There was no bitterness in my heart against him. He asked me, “Can we rewrite our love story and start on a fresh page?” I smiled and said, “I am sorry but we can’t.” I was in a place where I had outgrown my childhood interests and he was one of those. He no longer matched the qualities I wanted in a partner. I changed and so did he.

We talk once in a while and we are both happily single. I pray and hope that we get partners who not only fit us here on earth but please God above.

#MyFirstRelationship

– Trizah, Kenya 

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