Dear brothers,
By the time you read this, I'll be in Addis Ababa. Don't worry about me - I'm fine and settling in well. I'm in a new country now, one with focus and an energetic leader who stands up even to Pharaohs over Nile waters. I'm in the arms of my loving Edel and her beautiful daughter Beli, ready to start fresh.
This is the land of Emperor Menelik II who defeated Mussolini's armies at Adwa. The home of running legend Haile Gebrselassie and the birthplace of Rastafari. Being here reminds me of that reggae line: "The system does not cater for me." That's why I left.
I left my daughter Emily behind - that pains me. But not her mother. Tesa deserved to be left. Another day with her might have killed me.
Brother Manga, you're the only one who'll truly understand. You've lived with women of this generation. You know the torture - when they throw the little money you give them back in your face, when they hurl insults that crush your spirit before neighbors and strangers. How does a man endure this?
Now I understand why Kevin beat Clare so badly. Now I know why he kept that huge bat under the bed. People say words don't break bones, but they forget how words shatter hearts and spirits. You survived this torture, Manga. I respect you for that. Maybe I should thank the weed that helped you endure. I'm sorry Velma turned our innocent brother into a drug user.
I know Father blames me for leaving. All he thinks about is his sons staying married, enduring like he has with our stubborn mother these forty years. He says I shouldn't leave Tesa because "there are no good women" and I'll just end up with multiple wives. I'm sorry to disappoint him, but I'm taking my chances at happiness. At least Father is light-hearted - he'll come to accept my choice.
Mother never liked Tesa, but she's unpredictable. Who knows if she'll be happy or angry about my leaving? She hates Tesa's laziness and entitlement - always wanting luxury but unwilling to work for it. Recently she told Dreda that Tesa's nagging has made me regress, that I've become like Njoroge in Weep Not, Child - an "old young man." Mother knows how a wife can turn a man's heaven into hell. Maybe she did it to Father - look how quiet he's become. Her daughters do the same to their husbands.
Remember when we couldn't judge Davy for taking a second wife? Recall how Celine used to attack him - climbing on his back and stabbing him with scissors, vandalizing his car, beating him bloody. The poor man went to the police in shame. Imagine his humiliation dealing with those incompetent officers. Who knows what other abuse he endures?
Where can men like us turn? Society expects us to suffer in silence. The laws and traditions are all against us. Is it any wonder men die younger than their wives?
Look at what happened to Mistari - once a devoted Christian, now drinking and smoking weed daily. He married a trophy wife who only knows how to spend. He gave Akothe everything - a luxury home in Murang'a, top schools for the kids, even started a bakery business. But she drove away his brothers, calling them "dirty," and ran the business into the ground buying designer clothes. When Dreda and I visited, she told us to leave like she'd done to Mistari's family. Now that he's broke, she calls our parents crying about his "irresponsibility." The devil wears lipstick.
People whisper about Ronny running off with a sugar mommy in Mombasa. They only see Sarah playing the victim with her daughter. No one asks what drove him away. I don't judge Ronny. I'll wait to hear his side.
This quick judgment of men leads to the rising suicides among married men. The expectation that we should endure unlimited abuse without complaint is pushing us over the edge. I refuse to be another statistic. That's why I left to start anew.
You all knew Tesa was tormenting me. You saw how I withdrew. She hated when I spent time with you brothers, claiming it made me "less ambitious." Some nights she'd withhold supper as punishment for seeing my own family. Why should I tolerate this when I let her waste time with those gossipy friends who only poison her mind?
Her insecurity knew no bounds - I couldn't speak to any woman. She made me delete my social media. She'd comb through my phone like a detective, proud when she guessed my password. She'd read and reply to my messages, then claim I embarrassed her. She never appreciated the love and respect I gave her.
Brothers, you know I was practically under house arrest - only leaving to dispose of Emily's waste or chat briefly with you. When would I even have time to cheat? Tesa had me in chains.
She banned Derrick from visiting - my childhood friend, my school and college mate. She said he "corrupted" me. She isolated me from everyone. According to her, no one was good for me. I feared she might lock me away completely.
Everyone deserves privacy, even in marriage. But when you go hunting for dirt, you'll always find some. When she found innocent messages from my friend Pats, she attacked me violently. I defended myself. In this world, no one cares about the wounds she gave me - they only see the bruises I left on her.
Remember when I accidentally choked her during play wrestling? The nurses assumed I was guilty and pressured her to press charges. She didn't, but used it to blackmail me ever since. When I stopped reacting to her provocations, she became even more controlling.
Last week I snapped. When she came at me like a wild animal, I gave her the beating she'd been asking for. I'm not proud, but I couldn't take it anymore.
As a boy, I thought men who hit women were monsters. Now I understand how even good men can be pushed to breaking point. Tesa provoked me beyond endurance. My life and health were at stake. That's why I say: "Don't judge a book you haven't read."
I left because I refuse to live violently. I hope you understand.
Sincerely,
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