No one can claim patent for domestic violence

By Akinyi Otieno

In England, domestic violence is taken seriously. There are programmes to support sufferers, follow-ups and support networks.

I had no option but to accompany Lissu to one of them. After narrating my story to her, she somehow felt there was someone who understood what she was going through.

She often sought me out in the weeks following the incident to give me updates or just have a cup of Kenyan chai (tea). She had become my friend so when she requested I accompany her to this meeting, I didn’t refuse.

There were women from all over, a global village brought together by one common hurt. One by one they spoke. Each story just as heart wrenching if not more than the last.

I listened. All very true and emotive, but I realised one thing ... it was not my story.

Granted, the events were similar and the incidents almost indistinguishable, but the conclusions just didn’t resonate with me.

I was born an only girl. I grew up among men and before puberty, being female was not an identity for me. My brothers and I were treated the same. I had to build my toy cars for ‘safari rally’ just as they did.

When we disagreed as we often did, some disputes were resolved with fistcuffs. We always paid the price at the end when daddy came home. The down side was the lectures that followed. Eventually, we grew up to know fighting was never a lasting solution to sorting out a difference.

Not defenceless

So in as much as I recognised the stories of violence by the women, my story was more a testament to my upbringing. I was not defenceless, I choose not to react.

I often sat down and laughed at what I described as the vote of confidence this person had in me, that after such cruelty, he would like a child fall to sleep with the confidence that all would be well! I didn’t and I knew I would never cross that line.

Along with all the myriad issues, I was processing then paying violence with violence or evil with evil was not my way forward! Daddy’s lectures were ingrained in me; I would not do that.

Then one very bad day, my son got in the way of a blow that was meant for me and I knew the dynamics had changed.

I knew that by keeping in line with my character in check, I was now battling with my natural maternal instinct to protect my child. I had to walk away and I did.

Obviously, on the other side of all this was my cultural influence. A story for another day.

—The writer is a Legal Consultant in the United Kingdom.