I became a single mother when I turned 19. How I got there is a story I will tell along the line. For now, let me start with David, a man who came into my life and showed me how to love and what it meant to be loved. I can boldly say that he loved me without limits. He also broke me in ways I didn’t know the human spirit can break. It was a beautiful feeling being at the centre of his attention, until it all turned sour.

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At the time we met, I was a casual labourer. I got jobs on six-month contracts. After a contract ended, I would move to another job. It was when I was on one of these jobs that our paths crossed. He was also a hustler like me.

On that particular job, his contract ended before mine. The next job he found took him to another town. By then we had gotten close. So he would visit me on his off days although he didn’t earn much.

When my contract ended, I wasn’t as lucky. I struggled to find another job. Thankfully, whenever David visited, he brought me some shopping, just enough to help me and my daughter get by for a few days.

As time passed, he said it didn’t make sense for me and my daughter to keep living far from him, especially since rent (700 Ksh) was becoming a burden.

“I want you to move in with me,” he proposed. The love was new. Everything between us was rosy, despite our challenges. It made the idea of living with him sound good to me. I packed my bags and moved with my daughter to his town and his home.

David took care of us. He enrolled my daughter in school and did everything he could for us to survive. Our love life was good. At least, that’s what I believed in the beginning.

My only problem with him was intimacy. He wanted it frequently. I couldn’t give it to him like that. Due to past experiences, I hated it. I could force myself to do it one day, and then feel completely shut off the next.

What I never told him was that his touch reminded me of the first man who touched me. It wasn’t consensual. He took what was not his with force. That’s how I got pregnant.

I never told anyone what happened. Not even my parents. I masked all the pain.

So when he started demanding sex frequently, I just couldn’t cope. It left me with deep emotional pain, but I couldn’t share this with him. All these unaddressed issues boiled over and resulted into fights. That’s how our sweet love turned into bile in my mouth.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would angrily tell me to leave his house with my daughter. Other times, arguments escalated to the point where he would beat me until I got nosebleeds. I’d have to run out with my daughter, looking for a place to sleep.

Eventually, I had enough and decided to find a place of my own. I thought I would find peace when I moved out but David wouldn’t let us be. He was constantly at my place, trying to see if someone new was in the picture.

One night, my landlord had to call the police on him because he came over and accused the landlord of sleeping with me. He was arrested, and that’s when I learned, through the police, that he was using hard drugs. They found some on him while they were restraining him.

Although he was locked up, he got released that same night because of his asthma.
After that incident, he came back looking sober. He blamed the drugs for his violence. He blamed the devil. He blamed everything but himself.

“Just give me one more chance, I’ll change,” he swore.

I believed him. I tried to make it work again but I just couldn’t see past everything he put me through. I left, so I could give my daughter and me the space to heal.

Months later, I missed him. I went to our old house, hoping to see him. I found out he had moved on. He was already married and living with another woman.

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I left heartbroken. Knowing that our chapter was closed forever was not easy to take in. I didn’t have much of a choice though. I had to move on.

The problem is that even after all this time, I find myself dreaming about him. It happens sometimes months or even years after I have been okay. The moment I dream about him, he calls me the very next day. When I pick up he says nothing. Just silence on the phone until I get tired of saying, “Hello… hello… hello,” and hang up.

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It keeps happening. I dream about him. He calls. And we go months again without talking.

What’s the science behind this? I don’t hold grudges against him, but why does he always call after I dream about him?

—Lina

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