Metrine Awino Autobiography

I am Metrine Imelda Awino. I was born in September 1997 to mum Christine and dad Denvas. I was born in Murumba Hospital in Busia District. Bumagunda village my birth. My birth wasn’t good to me and to my people at that time. I was not really welcomed. When a baby was born in any home in the village, the people would celebrate for the new angel who would continue the life of the community and be named after the ancestors, but mine was not like that you see. I was born at the wrong time. My father and mother were planning to break up and live separately. My father had not planned on how to care for my mother and the baby.

My father’s part-time work did not earn him much enough. He wasn’t able to find any other job. He became stressed and easily got irritated by anything my mother said or did. He even fell out of love with her. By the time my sister was two years old, my parents had given up hope of a marriage. They started quarrelling all the time. The baby got less and less to eat. They struggled through unplanned pregnancy (i.e mine). This was a double problem. My father needed a quick way out. That is why I say I was born at the wrong time. At the end of a marriage, my sister was three years old.

One evening a few days after my uncelebrated birth in an open arguement, my father decided he had enough. He unleashed his full anger and vented his frustration on my mother. When he was well through with her, she was well beaten and bruised all over, but she was still strong enough to pick up her children and crept away silently in the dark back to her mother. Her parents listened to her story and cared for her. When she was well, they asked her to go back to her husband. One month later, she went back to her home. My father said he was sorry about his mistake. He promised to change, but I was only one year old. When my mother got pregnant again, the news made my father to start drinking heavily. Local beer is cheap and he got drunk every day. The nights and quarrels started again and got worse and worse. This time mother did not wait for the beating. She was seven months pregnant when she ran away to her parents.

Her parents were shocked but welcomed their daughter back home. They could not send her back home. They cared for us and shared their food with us. There she delivered a boy called Silas. Later, mother talked to some friends and they promised to find her a job in Nairobi at a “mzungu” [white person] house as a cleaner. She was very happy. By then she had forgotten about my father although he had asked for forgiveness. My grandmother said my mother and my father could not become good friends again, therefore to leave him alone. My mother got in Nairobi hoping for a big change in her life. But alas! It was not time. Her friend had lied to her. There was no job. She actually wanted to hand her to her own brother as his wife. My mother was disappointed and ran away to another friend in Nairobi. Her friend was sorry about her problems and promised to help her for real. She gave her food as a househelp to take care of small children.

She worked very hard, and her boss was very happy with her. Her life started to improve.

She helped my grandmother with money to care for us. She worked for six months then got her own room. She decided to bring her children to Nairobi with her, so that she could take them to school. There was a school near the room. She missed her children, she said. My mother liked the school and paid the school fees. When Silas was old enough he also joined the school. But we had to change school when mother changed her job to another place. We joined a new school. It was not as good as the old one and I was unhappy. The pupils were rude and the teachers were tough. They punished us for any small mistakes! We stayed there for two years only and mothers said we were moving again to