Thinking about how it all started? Perhaps when mum died or maybe not.
Or even earlier than that but what I’m sure of is that I really can’t place a finger on how it all started.
A part of me has always been bitter at the world for not giving me an opportunity to grow up with a mother and a sister but it is what it is.
In 1998, my mum died of leukemia when I was just a year old. Shortly after, my sister was diagnosed with the same illness and she died.
Though I don’t have any vivid memories of them, I think my dad was greatly affected by this.
With my father single-handedly raising me up, he made sure I had the very best of everything.
I don’t recall not getting anything that I ever asked for: school fees and all basic needs were duly catered for alongside good home training from him. He was all I had and knew.
My dad was indeed a great father but had only one weakness; women. He is the greatest womaniser I have known.
I recall he had so many girlfriends while I was growing up. Some he brought home as wives while others were just one night stands and side chicks.
My dad would have a wife at home and still go out with other women to clubs and bars.
The women he married while I was still young all left after a long period of tension and bitterness in the marriage.
At that young age, I never really knew why they left even though I wished they would stay.
I just wanted someone to call mum. I yearned for that warmth from a mother figure: the care and love.
I can recall so many other situations where I had to act stupid just so he could get rid of a woman but I always knew what was going on.
I wasn’t that dumb? I was young and smart! One time, while I was in primary school, I went home without informing him.
There was a nationwide teachers’ strike and when I got home I noticed the door to his bedroom was slightly open.
I was able to make out a woman figure lying on the bed meanwhile I thought he was single.
This was after five of his marriages had failed. He quickly sent me to buy bread while we already had two loaves of bread in the kitchen. He did not even notice me.
I knew what he was trying to do so to save him the embarrassment, I left and when I got back the woman was long gone.
I sometimes blamed these women in my solitude for not being patient enough with my dad. However, it was when I grew older that I realized how disrespectful my father was to women.
I started being very keen and I noticed all the women my father would bring home especially his side chicks and how he treated them with disrespect after a period of time.
My father sired some of these women and later dumped them while others were just dumped when things got tough.
Months into their marriage, they would always start arguing and my dad would hurl insults at them. “Find another place to live with your stupid children” he will say or he doesn’t mind kicking them out and finding another woman.
I knew this was none of my business and I’m not supposed to jump to conclusions but what kind of a man talks to his wife like that? I wondered.
Subsequently, right before I entered university, he married again. Oblivious to him, this woman was one crazy fellow who had her own issues.
She was on the verge of losing her job and just wanted my dad to be part of her life in paying her bills.
I dreaded leaving school to go home because I always wanted to avoid the heated altercations between them when my dad got to know her plans.
One Christmas holiday, while home, this woman was making a phone call to her friend and I heard her say that she had done her research and found out that my father had killed my mother.
This was after there had been several tensions between them for a long while and the woman started digging for the supposed dirty past of my dad.
It escalated into a police case and the woman even took a P3 (i.e.The Kenya Police Medical Examination Report Form) for my dad at the police station.
They later got separated after one year but that experience left me traumatized.
I was always at the centre of all their drama and sometimes I was woken up at night because of their arguments.
I loved my father so much; I hated seeing him go through all these alone.
I really wanted to help but what could I do? To date, I regret being involved in all the drama.
I wish I would have just not seen nor heard about these happenings or even stayed quiet when it all happened. Somehow, I was always dragged into all those issues which I hadn’t even caused.
Then came my own shortcomings or peradventure my dad’s ways negatively affected me. I became the female version of my father and started acting the way he did with women.
I broke up with my first boyfriend on campus after dating for a year. Even though I put all the blame on him, I had cheated.
He was not the best boyfriend but he did not deserve to be cheated on.
Shortly after, I started sleeping around with the boys on campus for fun. The painful thing was that I wasn’t doing this for money, grades or even favours. Just for fun.