A New Beginning, or So I Thought

Mom's belief that I was bewitched didn't go in vain. Her endless searching for answers, her visits to witch doctors, all of it culminated in a strange form of revival. For the first time in years, I felt like I was someone worth saving. Maybe it was the constant prayers at the church—the revival church we attended during our holiday in the city. Hearing the hard truths about life, about faith, and about myself was painful. Admitting to myself that I had been a liar, a manipulator, and at times, a terrible child to my parents, was harder than anything I had ever faced. But it was necessary.

I revived myself. I promised myself, for once, I would make the right choices. I wouldn't disrespect my parents again, I wouldn't lie anymore, and I certainly wouldn't allow myself to fall into the same self-destructive patterns that had always haunted me. It wasn't easy, but I made those resolutions, and they felt like my chance at redemption.

The year 2017 became my comeback. My grades improved drastically. I was on top of the world academically, always topping my class along with my best friend. She was supportive, or at least, I thought so. But then I found out the truth—she had been plotting behind my back, jealous of my connection with the teachers, and trying to push me out of the way. She even destroyed my school bag, tearing apart all my stationary simply because I was favored by the teachers.

Despite all of that, 2017 was still my best year. I had moments of peace, clarity, and even joy. I celebrated my birthday with a sense of accomplishment and growth, and I gave my life to Jesus. I promised to live a life that honored my parents, my faith, and myself. I swore I would wait until marriage before I gave myself to anyone again, not just physically, but emotionally too. I was the best child, the one I thought everyone had wanted me to be. I didn't fake sickness anymore, and I believed things were finally going to be okay.

But life, as it always does, had other plans.

Mom's relentless pursuit of a better future for us didn't stop there. She continued looking for schools to enroll us in Windhoek, and even though I didn't fully understand it at the time, her desire to have us closer was something I couldn't ignore. It seemed like a good idea; after all, the city was where dreams were made, where opportunities lived. My parents were loving, caring, and we felt treated well during our visits there. It all seemed perfect, like this would be the solution to everything.

I didn't reject the idea outright. At just 15 years old, I didn't know the weight of what it meant to move to the city, to live in a place so vastly different from the small, tight-knit village where I had grown up. I didn't know what kind of future awaited me there. But I went along with it, trusting that maybe it would be another step forward.

Little did I know, the city wasn't going to be the escape I thought it was. The promises of a new life, the promise of a better future, were just the beginning of another chapter in my life that would take me on a completely different path.