My family is one of the most dysfunctional families I have ever seen. It seems like nothing can go right in this family even when you think you’re doing something good. They always find a way to turn it into a bad thing. After I grew up and finished school, my only goal was to get a job out of the country so so could be as far away from them as possible. Miraculously, I got one in Germany as a nurse and didn’t think twice about it.
Somehow, my family made it seem like a bad thing. The day that I was leaving for Germany, it was only my older brother who came to escort me. The rest, including my mother, said they were busy. Nonetheless, it didn’t stop me from leaping with excitement as I pushed the trolley filled with suitcases into the airport.
After a short prayer, I parted ways with my brother and went into the check-in section. That was the last time I was in my country for almost five years. However, I tried to keep in touch with my family despite their negativity. When you’re in a foreign country, it’s easy to get homesick and depressed since you barely know anything in the country.
“I told you. This was a bad idea. You should come back as soon as possible before you end up killing yourself.” My mother said.
This was the advice she would give me any time I told her that I felt lonely. The fact was I couldn’t just pack my bags and go back home since I was there to look for money. I was barely three months in Germany and had barely made enough money to go back home. Despite the discouragement from my family, I preserved and remained hopeful.
I started learning the language and even met a community of other Kenyans where I lived. Things were starting to look a little brighter. During my off days, some of the Kenyans I had met would show me around and introduce me to a lot of nice places where I could go to socialize.
I tried visiting these places a few times after and that was when I met William. He was the sweetest man I had met since I moved to Germany. The best part was he spoke English so I could easily communicate with him.
“How do you find Germany?” He asked.
“It’s cold,” I replied and he laughed.
“This isn’t cold yet. You better get warmer clothes if you want to survive the winter.”
He then offered to take me to the mall where I would buy warm clothes. For the next few months, William was like a personal tour guide. He offered to take me anywhere he thought that I would like or needed to go. I didn’t know why he was being so nice to me at first since he hadn’t made a move on me or even tried to flirt with me. We simply met during my off days and spent the day together then he would take me home.
Finally, he asked me out during one of our hangouts. I had feelings for him so I agreed automatically. The smile on his face betrayed just how much he wanted that reply.
Over the years, our relationship grew from casual to serious. Three years into my stay in Germany, I moved in with him since he had made it clear that he wanted to marry me.
“When are you going to tell your family?” He asked.
“Soon, babe. You know how they are. I just don’t want them to spoil what we have.”
For the three years we had been dating, it was only my brother who knew about my relationship. In fact, my mother and aunties kept pressuring me to come back home so I would get married to a Kenyan man from my village. God forbid!!
I knew they wouldn’t be too happy that I was marrying a white man since they had a very backward way of thinking. Nonetheless, that wasn’t my problem. I was ready to marry William and he wanted to make things official with my family.
I kept taking him in circles for another two years until he put his foot down.
“We’re going to your country next month. I’ve already booked the flight and hotel.” He said.
I informed my brother that I was coming back but I didn’t tell him that I was coming with my white fiancé.
“Everyone is pretty excited.” He said during one of the phone calls.
When we finally got to Kenya, I was so nervous. I couldn’t stop shaking. William noticed that I had been quiet the entire flight and tried to comfort me.
“It’s going to be okay, babe. I learnt a few things about your culture.” He said and smiled.
However, the problem wasn’t that he didn’t know my culture. The problem was that he was not from my culture.
My brother welcomed us as soon as we walked out of the gate and led us to his car. The two instantly bonded which made me calm down a little bit.
“The event is in Karen just as you asked. I went to see the setup and everything looks beautiful.”
“Na mum? Anajua ni nini inahappen? (And mum? Does she know what is happening?”( I asked in Kiswahili so my fiancé wouldn’t understand.
“Anafikiria tunakuwelcome. (She thinks we’re welcoming you)”
I wasn’t happy lying to my family. However, I knew that they couldn’t keep things civilized if they knew the truth. I was even scared that they wouldn’t show up but my brother assured me that they were all excited to see me after five years.
We got to our hotel and rested. The following day, we both got dressed in our matching Kitenge outfits and my brother came to pick us up.
“Everyone is already there waiting for you.”
I first alighted from the car and was met with cheers and celebration but when my fiancé alighted everything but the music from the DJ went silent. Everyone looked confused and I tried to smile to reduce the tension. I could see my mother approaching me but my brother intercepted her and explained that William was my fiancé and he had come to meet the family.
This announcement was met with murmurs and everyone slowly returned to their seats. The rest of the event was so dull and awkward that we ended things early.
After that cold and humiliating reception, William had his reservations about going through with the wedding since my family didn’t like him. He ended the engagement and went back to Germany without me.
I had to cut my visit short and return to Germany a week early to try and save my relationship. However, when I got there, I was shocked to find the apartment almost empty. My fiance had taken everything he bought in the apartment and moved out. I didn’t hear from him but he left a note on the kitchen counter instructing me not to try to look for him or contact him.
Despite my family embarrassing me, they might have saved me from marrying a cruel man. There are so many stories of African women who married white men thinking they were one thing and they turned out to be something else. I may have dodged a bullet. Additionally, this experience motivated me to date my own country’s people.
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