When hidden love leads to heartbreak in African home

Nothing hurts like Mum asking you if late-night caller has stopped

In Summary

• You cry in your bedroom as you imagine bae with someone else

A sad woman
A sad woman

African Mother 101 is asking you two things. “Ni nini hiyo inakuchekesha kwa simu?” And when you show them whatever it is that is making you laugh, more so a video or meme, they continue to ask, “Sasa hawa watu unawajua?

However, that’s not the point today. But have you tried sleeping with a broken heart in an African home? Well, before that gaidi shatters your heart, they had you glued to your phone, from the 'Good morning' texts, through the 'I can’t stop thinking about you' and finally the 'Goodnight' texts.

The hour-long phone calls in the middle of the night, where you would recoil in your blankets just giggling and whispering, because you didn’t want anyone to wake anyone up. Rather, Mum would ask you whether you were talking to thieves in the middle of the night.

Then one day, the fire nation attacks, the bombshell is dropped on you. Popular ones are: “It’s not you, it’s me”, or “I’m going through something”. Well, yeah. They’re definitely fighting demons because it’s none other than them. And the grand finale, “I need a break.” That break is definitely being enjoyed with someone else, your deputy/replacement.

Now here is when your mother comes in with another question, like, “Na ule mtu alikuwa anakupigia kwani aliacha?” And it hits right there in the spot. Do they do this on purpose?

And you feel your eyes stinging with tears, threatening to burst out. But wait, you can’t; at least not in front of her. Because if they happen to flow, a whole lecture on how right now you should focus on your studies and relationships later is bound to ensue.

So, you hold. Only your bedroom walls can see those tears. Your heart feels like a knife has been lodged inside it, or if you’re a vampire, a wooden stake.

Some say even food doesn’t go down their throat, unaskia ni kama unanyongwa ju ya uchungu na hasira. I tend to be the opposite; my appetite goes over the roof. Seeking comfort in food, munching the pain away.

Since your mother doesn’t know what’s going on in your life, it’s business as usual in the household. “Nani ebu amka uendee mkate.” “Hizo vyombo utaosha saa ngapi?” And you wish the ground could swallow you whole.

Actually, what you wish for is moving out, but where to go with your unemployed self? So, you stomach it all because at the end of the day, you know it will pass. Time heals everything.

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