THE MAKING OF HER

They saw her struggles. She saw her strength. The making of her is a journey of courage, resilience, and triumph.

Her mother had three husbands, three men who fathered her children .What a way to start a story. Nonetheless, it’s not really a sad story. From the first came a son, from the second two middle children, and from the third her youngest daughter.

The youngest kid, Ariah,was seen as a bit slow back then, at least by our school's standards. During her junior years in school, scoring 190 marks out of 500 was a big deal - something worth celebrating. But even then, she had no one to share that joy with.

She was born prematurely, and somehow, she believed that was why she never performed well. Everyone around her seemed to share the same belief- No one expected much more from her. As a child, with excitement, she had announced to everyone in the house that one day she would attend university. All her family laughed, and the younger brother, who was 18 years older than her, asked,” How do you dream of such, when you can’t even pronounce the word university? “She was shattered. For the life of her, she couldn’t pronounce the word correctly, and she always sounded funny when she said it. In all fairness, she was just five years old, but daamn, what a way to butcher a child’s dream. 

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The eldest sibling was like a father to her- with twenty-eight years between them, it only seemed right that he would protect his younger sister. He was a smart man, and she looked up to him, but even that wasn’t enough for him to step in and take on the role. The truth is, none of the children had ever known stability well enough to understand how to care for one another. Her mother was the epitome of trauma; raising her kids on her own was no easy task. “Arume ni gui,” [Men are dogs], she constantly said it over and over to her daughter, until it stuck with her. Ariah’s life was surrounded by people who were too consumed by their own struggles, so words like" I love you," a bit of encouragement, or even a high five for doing well were never part of their vocabulary. 

Ariah hated reading, and she was mesmerized by magazines and any book that had pictures. From insiders to porn magazines, she came across her brother’s collectables. There was something innate about the porn magazines; she couldn’t put a finger on what made her uneasy, and so she kept her hands off them. It was like God was protecting her from something unknown. In her final year of primary school, during the national exam that would determine her entry into Secondary school, she scored 210 marks, a remarkable improvement compared to her performance in earlier years.

She began her secondary education at a reputable boarding school. As the year progressed, her mother decided that since her performance hadn't improved, there was no reason to keep her in such an expensive school when there were more affordable options for children like her. And so, she transferred to a rural school.

In the school she was transferred to, she sat next to a quiet girl who always performed marvelously in her exams; she was an A student.  She noticed that the girl always read her bible in the morning, and she did mathematical calculations. She wondered how this boring book with no pictures could be so enticing to read every day. It clicked like a light bulb that maybe this was the secret to good grades. She knew the bible was about God, and that’s all she knew. And she prayed a little prayer to God and said,” If I start reading this bible, I'd better pass my exams.” She began opening the Bible during her morning preps, mirroring every page she saw her desk mate reading. At first, she was copying, as she always did. But day after day, something shifted. She kept reading, and before long, she found herself drawn to other books. She read and continued reading. By the time she was in her second year of high school, in the second term, she had scored a B Minus, warranting a call to the principal’s office.

“Do you know your parent begged me to admit you to this school?” she said. Imagine a rural school where almost everyone has an accent, and the performance is generally poor, yet they still don't want to admit it. She continued, "Kumbe wewe ni mtu mwerevu ni kujifanya tu,” [So you are smart and you were pretending]. The principal congratulated her on her performance, and for the first time, someone had recognized her efforts; she felt seen.

When her mother came to pick her up from school for her holidays, she was so excited to show her mum her results. She was holding her result slip in her hands, waiting for the moment her mother would finally ask for it. This was her moment, either to make her mother proud or at least to show that she wasn't the foolish girl everyone thought she was. But her mother had other things in mind; she always seemed to bounce from one problem to another. She had this boil in her mouth, and just as they were walking outside the school compound, she said, “Huyu bibi ya brathako ameniroga,” [Your brother’s wife has bewitched me]. And at that point, she knew it would never be about her. “I will pray for you,” she told her mum. Her mum just looked at her and never said a word.

In the evening, her mum asked for her report card, and, discussing the results with her older siblings, they all concluded that the school must be adding marks for students so that the parents would not notice they were underperforming. And there went her moment.

Fast forward a few years, and she earned an A in her Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education. She was among the top students in the country, and her name appeared in the newspaper- a dream come true for a girl who had always loved flipping through magazines. To see her name in print, at a time when newspapers carried weight, felt almost surreal. Soon after, she was awarded a full sponsorship by the Ministry of Education, which marked the beginning of a new chapter in her life. 

You would think by now she had finally earned a seat at the family’s table and was now an accepted member. Her brother had asked her not to go to the university, that it would be a waste of time; instead, he could teach her coding, and they would run the business together. One place they told her she could never go. She had no trust left in her, but she pressed on. While pursuing her law degree, she also accepted her brother's offer to work as a computer programmer. She excelled at coding, juggling law school and work with remarkable discipline- eventually rising to become a customer care manager and a professional corporate lawyer. 

This story might seem perfect, with an impeccable ending. But we all know childhood trauma leaves its mark- it always needs an outlet. She turned into a keyboard warrior, hiding behind an account with no profile, spewing hate at anything that looked joyful on social media. She was one of those comments- you're fat, you're broke, you're face looks like....- words that carried her own pain more than she realized.

The good news is, she finally healed. She reformed. While she still finds it hard to make friends, or perhaps simply no longer sees the need, by default becoming a loner, she found peace within herself. The best part? She is now a wife, a mother of one, a happy soul whose confidence rests in the Lord Jesus Christ, her savior.

She was not born fearless , she was made that way. Through heartbreak, silence, betrayal, and the pain of becoming, she learned how to rebuild herself from the broken pieces.

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