My elder sister’s marriage started suffering just a year into the marriage. She kept coming home to complain about her husband, Alex. Her husband would come home to ask her to leave with him. My parents would send her away only for her to return a month or so later. She complained about a lot of things her husband was doing against her. To my parents, those issues were not good enough to cause her to leave her matrimonial home. My sister was married but was always back home with us.

I went to live with them and witnessed the fight that occasionally happened. My sister was quick-tempered and didn’t want to tolerate nonsense, as she usually put it. Her husband was always bringing up nonsense and that was the reason for their fight.

One night, Alex came back home from a trip after being away for five days. Immediately he stepped in, my sister started a fight. For the first time, I was on Alex’s side. I felt my sister attacked too quickly. Someone returned from a journey, the least you can do is welcome him into a peaceful home but my sister didn’t. Later when I learned the reason she attacked, I sided with her. Alex was away for five days but didn’t tell his wife he was going to be away for that long. He stopped calling on the third day.

Anytime they fought, I became a medium through which they communicated. Alex would give me the housekeeping money and tell me what to do with it. He wasn’t telling me. He was indirectly talking to my sister. My sister would take the money and do the opposite because she was angry.

Alex could text me before coming home to ask about the mood of my sister. “How’s she doing? Is she in a good mood?” I would answer him, “What have you done this time? If your case is good, she should be in a good mood.”

While reporting my sister’s mood temperature to her husband, my sister would be next to me telling me everything wrong in their marriage. She always concluded, “I would have left this silly thing they call marriage had it not been mom and dad.”

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So years later when she came home with her belongings and swore not to go back again, I knew what was happening. I had left their house years ago but I knew everything that was going on. My sister would talk to me about it. Alex would text or call later to explain. Alex knew my sister was telling me everything but my sister didn’t know Alex was talking to me.

Again my parents tried to send her away. This time she screamed, “Maybe you want me to die. I will die in your presence than go back and die there. I’m done.”

My parents were slow to push her back this time around. Alex took some weeks before coming to see my parents. They had a long meeting where Alex apologized for every mistake and swore not to do them again. My sister swore she was never going back to the marriage again: “Not this time. I’ve given him a lot of grace. What did he do with them?”

The issue ended up in front of the church. It later travelled to the houses of the family heads. Well-meaning elders took a seat to call the marriage to order. My sister didn’t shift her ground. “I’m out. I’ve been burnt for too long,” she said.

Finally, they were granted separation to see if they could work things out while apart. My sister’s head and heart were in consonance with the marriage. She was out. From the beginning, Alex wanted to work things out. He came home on weekends to see my sister. He brought gifts which my sister refused to take. She gave him attitude until he stopped coming.

My sister had her things in her matrimonial home. She didn’t want to see Alex so she would send me to go and pick this and pick that. She had her keys but the keys were in my purse so I could go there whenever she wanted me to. Sometimes I would meet Alex. We would sit and talk for a while. He would ask about my sister. I would tell him she was doing fine without him.

One day I cooked for him. The other time when I went there he wasn’t home but just when I was about to leave he came in. He begged, “Please let me know when you come here so I don’t blame thieves for stealing my wife’s properties.” He said it jovially but he had a point. The next time when I was going there, I texted him. He told me to cook for him. The other time he asked me to stay for a while and watch a movie with him. We ended up having sex.

I didn’t feel terrible about it until I got home and saw the face of my sister. I felt like I’d betrayed her. I was now in the camp of her enemy, to the extent I that I could share a bed with her enemy. I swore I would never go there again but Alex didn’t stop texting, pleading with me to come around to see him. I avoided him until he sent a text that he was sick and needed help. I rushed in there to find him bouncing and jiggling. We had sex again.

Committing the same sin over and over again takes away the shame and buries the guilt in your bones. It starts to feel normal. You begin to build excuses for the evil you do. “It’s not my fault, it’s my sister’s fault. If she didn’t send me there this wouldn’t have happened.”  “It’s the devil’s fault I swear. How would I be sleeping with my sister’s husband?”  “Technically, they are not married. It’s not a sin.”

I got pregnant for Alex, something my sister couldn’t do in four years with him. I accepted I was the devil himself and not someone the devil was using. I talked to my sister often. Not once did she mention Alex in our conversations and gossip. Even when I brought him in, she chuckled and went to the next topic. My sister was free but I was carrying a burden—the seed of guilt and shame.

It took me a while before I could tell Alex that I was pregnant. He asked me, “You know I’m still your sister’s husband, right?”

He didn’t have to say much. When I hung up the call, the only thing I could do was cry but what was I crying for? Did I mean to tell myself I didn’t know what I was doing? When the reality dawned on me, I wiped my tears and went around looking for money. I fell on my sister and she gave me what I needed. Hours later, I came back from the hospital without the seed in me.

I was trying to hide the pain but the session didn’t go too well so I started experiencing complications. The bleeding wasn’t normal. I passed out in front of my sister and she carried me to the hospital. She suspected what was happening but I was too scared to talk about it. While she sat next to my bed with my hand in her hand and IV drip on me, she asked me, “What did you do to yourself?”

I told her everything except who was responsible. She cried but didn’t say anything or judge me. When I was discharged and she was taking me home, she asked me, “You would go through this near-death experience because of a baby? Are you a child? Am I not your sister again? If you didn’t want it you could have given it to me.” She exhaled. All I said was “Sorry.”

I wasn’t apologizing for terminating the pregnancy. I was apologizing for what she didn’t know I had done to her. Days later, Alex called. He didn’t ask about my health or anything. All he said was, “Are you still carrying the pregnancy? Do you know the implication of what you’re doing?” I responded, “Alex, I’m not a child. I know the implications as clearly as you know it. Just leave me alone and don’t call me again.”

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He sent me a message pleading with me not to make things worse. He sent me money and said he would send more if I needed it.

Days later, he came home under the pretext of coming to see his soon-to-be-ex. I was there. He spoke to me briefly. I told him it was gone so he should stop working himself out. Their separation period is almost over. My sister will get a divorce and be free but me, me…I will never be free from guilt and pokes from my conscience. Whatever I go through from here, I deserve it.

— Jemima

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