On the afternoon I was due to be married, my sister was helping me get dressed when she asked me, “Are
you nervous?” I can honestly say I was not. I was an hour away from the wedding I’d always dreamed of on a beach in Mombasa with a man who was my best friend. I shook my head, and I remember her exact reply: “Well, why would you be? He is such a great guy.” I have often thought about that since. Once, it made me cry. Now I found it almost funny.
I had met my fiancé two years earlier at a basketball game. He was tall and cute. I lived in Kisumu and it was two hours away in Eldoret but we started dating. I would drive up to see him every weekend. We were besotted. He proposed six months later on a beach watching the sunrise it didn’t feel rushed. I was 23 and it felt life was coming together. People would say how good we were as a match. We were both active and ambitious, and he got well with my family. As we planned the wedding, we bought a house together.
Sure, we had the odd argument, but what couple doesn’t. We decided we would marry in Mombasa. He was very much involved in organizing things. On the day itself, I was so excited. I went for a run that morning and I remember telling myself to savor everything. We were staying at a hotel overlooking the beach where the ceremony would take place and, from our window, I watched the preparations. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t nervous as I started getting dressed. Maybe that’s why I was so blindsided by what happened next.
He came into the room and said we needed to talk alone. He was crying. I assumed he was letting the emotion of the day get to him. Then he said it. “I don’t think I can do this.” I could not understand. I asked: “Are you joking?” He shook his head. I stood there with the veil already in my hair. This man who was supposed to be the love of my life was telling me he was calling off the wedding less than an hour before we were due on the beach.
I didn’t even ask why. I told him to leave. That hotel room suddenly so felt so small. My sister and my bride’s maid went after him, but he ran away from them. He didn’t even tell the organizers. I had to watch from the window as my sister went to the beach and let everyone know. If there had been any question that it was just last-minute jitters, opening the wardrobe proved otherwise. I was so heartbroken, humiliated, and devastated. I needed to escape.
I went for a walk along the beach. Then, after half an hour, I called him. He had gone with his gut. That is all. I don’t know how I got through that night. It was a daze. I went to dinner but could not eat. My sister gave me sleeping pills but I woke up at 4 am. Remembering it all anew was of the hardest things.
What made it worse was that he stayed on the island for the rest of the week. We were in the same resort. I saw him in the car park two days later and called him a coward. Already my devastation was turning to anger. I packed the rest of the holiday with activities to take my mind off what was happening. My aim was to be shattered every night that I had to fall asleep without thinking.
But back in Kisumu, reality came around. I moved back in with my parents where they told me of some medication from Kiwanga Doctors which were good for my love spell. I had been compulsively heartbroken. I had no option than to follow my parent’s directives. I made an appointment at the Kiwanga Doctors place of operation about 300km from my town area. I was counseled since I looked so much stressed putting in mind I had been heartbroken on the due
One month after visiting the Kiwanga Doctors I met Jack Padhola, a lecturer at Dar es Salam University who lived in Kisumu. We tied knots in a colorful wedding held at the same place we had arranged with my first lover. It was really packed to the brim. Two years later we were blessed with a bouncing baby boy Ryan. Thanks to Kiwanga Doctors.
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