Life Happens!

The first edition of a column, by contributor Victoria Perma

I did not expect at 50 plus years to be a squatter and homeless; but then the best laid plans at times go awry.

Growing up in an upper middle class part of Nairobi, going to good Catholic schools, being taught that being good earns you good stuff — and then reality hits you hard! Wait a minute; that’s not real life. No, not even one little bit. I grew up reading Enid Blyton, Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew where the good guys win. Oh my. Anyway I try to do the right things like any good girl should — but I almost always get royally fucked!!!

Take my marriage, for instance. I married our neighbour, in the court — someone who coached me for my form four geography paper and I actually passed while I sucked at geog. Later on he coached me through A-level literature and I was the best in the class always.

Later on we started going steady, and while waiting to go to the university, I got pregnant and got married to him. I was barely eighteen.

He had a clerical job with the national airline carrier, and it was hard making ends meet. We somehow made it until such a time when I discovered international travel. I would carry African artefacts, jewellery and clothes to Europe. I’d sell them, buy European clothes and come back to sell those in Kenya. I was travelling the world, making money, and life was lovely.

I do not know at what point things fell apart. Whether it was gradual or not, I can’t say. But I know I started feeling resentful because of so many broken promises.

Working so hard to achieve your goals, feeling unappreciated and being wasted. Working so hard whilst his royal highness behaved like a maharajah, dishing out money to his relatives.

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