Let them kill me this time…
In my world only a man can change a girl’s happiest day
to her most miserable day … and sometimes to her last day.
Some people may envy me for escaping death that night.
Yet, if they knew how I spent the past ten years, they’d wish I died a thousand times, just like I wished for it every night and day.
I never had any aspirations or dreams about the man I would marry.
After all, girls who grow up in this kind of dire poverty are not good brides for marriage. I agreed to get married to the first man to propose in order to ease the burdens of my disabled father. We got married after we miraculously collected its expenses.
Unlike most girls, I never had any expectations or dreams about my wedding night. Nor did I exert an effort to think of what would happen once I become alone for first time with my husband, whom I hardly knew.
Yet, what happened wasn’t in the least bit close to any of the stories I’d heard. Only half an hour or even less had passed when my husband started kicking, beating, and calling me the worst names ever. Then he rushed out calling for my father and brother.
He received them with wild rage shouting “Your honorable daughter turned out to be a woman!”, and then threw me right in front of them leaving everyone in shock.
All their attempts to calm him down were in vain. He insisted I leave the house on my wedding evening with the clothes I was wearing. And sent me my divorce document the following morning.
For the first time, our sad house witnessed the meeting of all the men of the family, half of whom didn’t know my name, while the other half never knew I even existed.
They gathered to discuss the matter and try to deal with the scandal, either by proving my innocence or burying both me and my scandal.
Some of them wanted to see me killed, while the educated party suggested that a doctor checks me.
My dad defended me furiously and a huge fight started and rocked the dilapidating walls of our house.
Then everyone finally agreed to take the doctor suggestion.
They dragged my shattered body to the doctor who assured them that I had never been touched, and issued them a document saying so.
The family men took this paper to my ex husband and asked him to take me back as a wife, or to give me all my rights and belongings.
He was still furious and did nothing but tear the document and throw it in the face of those men. He said sarcastically: “These things do not need documents to prove, gentlemen. Your daughter played around. Get rid of your disgrace instead of going around issuing certificates.” He kicked them out shouting: “She has no rights here.”
What they later sentenced me to was not any better than killing. I stayed confined to the wearing walls of my house for years, never seeing the road except for a couple of times accompanied by my mom or some relatives. I was not allowed to go out until marriage comes to me again. And it never did. For who would ever accept a divorced woman with her scandal! And what a scandal!
Sad years heavily passed by and I was doomed to remain a virgin forever. I then stopped keeping track of days and eventually forgot which day or year it was. Finally, a day came when my mother had to make a tough decision to release me and allow me to work. Being humbly educated and experienced, the only job I managed to get was as a sales assistant for a shop that sells small goods.
I tried hard to fight men’s hungry gazes. I always suppressed my desires and focused on my work. After many months, my power started to fade away and I agreed to date that handsome guy who used to come to the shop just to see me.
We dated secretly for months. But my bad luck didn’t allow this relationship to remain discreet. One of my cousins saw me walking with this young man in a public park. We were doing nothing but chatting about casual matters, But who would ever believe that a dirty divorcee would only talk about causal life matters!
And for the second time, men of the family gathered because of me and loud voices asked for me to be killed. There was no one there to defend me this time and I didn’t have the right to defend myself. What could I say after I was seen walking with my lover in public. They decided to kill me and waited for the approval of the head of the family.
I wondered how would they do it … Some families bury the girl alive in a remote area. Other families end it quickly by stabbing the girl’s heart directly.
Finally, the head of the family, who for my good or bad luck, was a well-educated man, announced his decision. He fought for me and issued his final decree: “No killing in our family,” he said
I felt a strong desire to kneel in front of him and kiss his hand, not to show my gratitude, but to beg him to let them kill me this time.