Be Happy - Bikozulu
5 months ago, 27 Mar 10:58
Well, turns out Purity didn’t kill herself. I posted on Tuesday, she made me wait until Friday to email me. She started off the email with no salutation. Cut right to that chase like only she would. Also, she thinks it was “cute” that people didn’t want her to die. Strangers. Internetters. A faceless tribe. When I went to do some banking at Housing Finance along Waiyaki Way even the teller, Eric, asked me from the blues, “Has she written?” and I momentarily was like, “Who?” because I thought he was referring to Toni Braxton. [And no, Eric, Toni hasn’t written. But she will.] Purity wrote that initial email in the format of a poem. Quintessentially so. “But I terminated the pregnancy,” she wrote, “and it’s the single most horrible thing I will do in my life.” She did it in a “small clinic along Ngong Road.” She went alone. The walls of the room where this life was taken were – ironically – white. She bled a lot that night, slept with a sanitary pad on. But she wasn’t perturbed about the bleeding, “…actually I hoped I would bleed to death and join my unborn child.” Despite the grinding guilt that comes with that she still thinks she did something good, “I saved that baby from being forced to love a messed up mother who is learning to love herself.” She makes light of it. “The thing with abortion is that it has taken so much humanity from me that I now feel like it has become easier to kill people I completely dislike. Some of my colleagues, for instance.” She thinks you readers will be furious, pious and indignant over her act. “They will be furious to learn that I did an abortion even though I’m not a Catholic. I’m a woman.” [Strange, I would have placed her as more of a Catholic than a woman]. She wants you all to know that she isn’t sorry about it. But that she is sorry that “I somehow still live under the favour of God.” She’s on medication. When I asked her to tell me what depression really is like, apart from the feeling of “walking around with a black paper bag over your head.” She says only she knows she is depressed. The whole world thinks she’s a happy and normal person with a job she should be happy to have. “It’s exhausting,” she wrote, “to keep those two lives separate- to be happy in public and be myself at home. When I go home I’m so tired being someone else I don’t even remove my shoes or switch on electricity or eat anything, I simply take my medication and sleep or cry in my work clothes. A colleague often comes to my desk and asks me, ‘Purity why don’t you ever put on weight, what is your secret?’ I tell her – ‘Try depression once a month, repeat every other month.’ We laugh. By the way, my name ...
Category: blogs bikozulu
This year, as the column steps into its fifth year, I thought I would share with my dear readers some important lessons that I have learnt in the course of writing a newspaper column. ...Category: blogs