I Was Killed by My Best Friend: A Story of My Death to Sin and My Life in Christ

By Alice Leszek

Alice is a girl no different from any girl growing up today in America. She lives in Africa but has dreams and a family she loves and who loves her. Soon her life becomes nothing like what most girls here have to encounter. War becomes a looming threat and causes financial loss and periodic separation from loved ones. Gossip leads to mistrust and broken hearts. HIV and AIDS becomes a source of confusion and fear. An antiquated system of marriage leads to homelessness and total lonliness. A friendship is reconcilliated but turns into her biggest curse of all. All the while a relationship with God is all Alice can truly count on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 9, 2009
• ISBN: 9781465324481

Alice Leszek

Alice was born in Kampala, Uganda and now resides in Orlando, Florida with her loving husband Gregory. Alice currently owns and operates a hair salon and enjoys traveling and sharing the Word of God.

Book preview

My Family Background

I was born in Uganda, which is part of East Africa. Uganda has many different languages, and I come from a tribe called the Baganda. We have a very large family of about five hundred. I know this because every time someone died, the family would all come for the funeral, and someone would count us. In our culture, it is usual for a man to have several wives. Many are Muslim and can have two to four wives. I know of a family member who has six wives. You can imagine how many children they have! Some of my relatives who have Christian names also have two or three wives. Many still believe in the king and queen’s way. Many also still believe in family spirits and worship the king’s ways despite the fact the British came and colonized everyone.

If a man sleeps with a woman who is a slave girl promised to another man but who has not been ransomed or given her freedom, there must be due punishment. Yet they are not to be put to death because she had not been freed. (Lev. 19:20, NKJV)

I also have some relatives who are Protestants and Catholics. They only have one wife each but still have many children because there was no birth control back then. Of course, I have relatives who don’t believe in anything at all; they do as they please. There are those who will have a second wife even if she is their dead brother’s wife. They will marry them under the guise that they are only doing it to help the widow and raise her children. There is no divorce in Uganda, and most marriages are arranged ones. My father had eighteen children from three different wives, three of which were from my mother. I am the eldest of the three.

My Relationship with God

I can still remember the first time that I heard about God. There was a rumor going around that there was a war coming. My parents dug a hole in our backyard and put our belongings in to hide them from looters. This hole was very deep. They put plastic in it to protect our most expensive valuables that were placed there. I don’t know what age I was at the time. All I remember was that I was little, had a sister, and my mother was pregnant.

Everything was fine until one day, there was so much noise and bullets flying everywhere. We fled to the woods. My father had gone to work that day, so we didn’t see him; we were a group of people and children. In the woods one night, I was crying because I was so cold on the ground that my mother had laid me on. She came over to me and noticed that there was a snake next to me, ready to strike. My mother was so shocked but happy at the same time that the snake hadn’t bitten me. She gave praise to God and said that he was with us to protect us from this war.

For in the day of trouble He will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock. (Ps. 27:5)

And call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you and you will honor me. (Ps. 50:15)

Fear was running high among all of us, so the adults decided to go deeper into the woods. We survived off of raw food because to light a fire for cooking would alert our enemies to our presence. During this time in the woods, my mother gave birth to my brother. Again, my mother gave praise to God despite the fact that she had borne him on a ground covered with banana leaves. My brother cried a lot at night, and we worried that someone would hear and find where we were hiding.

Eventually, rumors began circulating that the war was over. When we finally returned to our home, it was only to see that it was destroyed. Still, that wasn’t the worst part. There were dead bodies on the ground everywhere. I remember people walking among them, checking to see if they were anyone they knew or were related to. The time spent in the woods was like a blur to me; I don’t recall how long we were there for, but the dead bodies that were found were skeletons, perhaps from decay or maybe from birds and animals picking at them. In the midst of this horror was a joy—joy that we had not died. We all had to start life over with nothing but our will to live on. It was all so confusing. I remember seeing the dead in the street, and yet around them, I also remember people celebrating. There were also those that were angry and others overcome with grief. Thinking back on it now, I am so relieved that I was a child then; I can’t imagine having to see that now.

Time passed, and my father was still unaccounted for. Some of our old neighbors were missing also. When my mother was able, she gathered up some people to help her uncover the hole we had dug in our backyard to protect our things. I was right there watching, and I remember the overwhelming disappointment when we saw what had happened to our things. Our clothes had been eaten by ants. The furniture was destroyed beyond repair. Our suitcases were torn to bits. There was only one thing in that hole that was salvageable. That thing was my mother’s Bible. Everyone was speechless. That was when I first realized that there must be a God. He was present always. He was there when we escaped with our lives. He was there when that snake almost bit me. He was there when my mother gave birth to my brother in the woods. My mother still has that Bible to this day, and that day, there was much praising of God in the streets. In Uganda as a whole, there was a great revival.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever (1 Chron. 16:34)

Give thanks to the Lord for he is good; his love endures forever. Let the redeemed of the Lord say this—those he redeemed from the hand of the foe, those he gathered from the lands, from the east and the west, from the north and the south. (Ps. 107:1-3)

Back in Africa, during those times where I lived, there were no phones, actual addresses, and certainly no mailboxes. People communicated by travelling from place to place to see their loved ones. Locating people was nearly impossible, and our father was missing. A few months had gone by, and my mother told us that someone had seen our father. We never stayed in one spot since our home was destroyed; instead, we moved from place to place looking for a better environment to live. Eventually, our father joined up with us. Things were good for a few months until another war broke out.

This time we had no warning, and I lost my mother in the crowd. I remember hearing this big bang, and then there was a lot of smoke. I saw my mother’s hand and reached out for it, but still ended up getting separated. I was in the woods alone that night and was almost shot. Luckily, the bullet hit the tree I had been leaning on. Somewhere in the distance, I heard some people, and I joined up with them. There was a woman among them who recognized me and helped me look for my mother. My father was again lost in the fray. Imagine my poor mother with three small children to care for in these circumstances. We did not blame our father for being gone. It was for his own safety that he would leave us. During the wars, the enemies would round up all the men and boys they could find and force them to fight in the war. God was with us again during that time, and eventually, my father caught up with us again.

When that war was finally over, my mother would read to me from her Bible. Mostly she read to me about the Ten Commandments. She also taught me how to pray, and I did it regularly before bedtime. My parents were Protestants, so that was the church that we attended. There were churches all around that were breaking up. This had a lot to do with other people whom they were calling born agains, who were being mocked by my mother and others. They laughed at them and talked bad about people who worshiped as they did. For myself, I remember sneaking into one such church one day and seeing people who had joy despite what was going on. They talked about healing. They were different from what I was used to.

When I told my mom what I had seen, she got really mad at me. She shouted at me, telling me that if she ever caught me sneaking like that again, she would beat me. She said that I was a Protestant and that I would stay a Protestant. Still, I was intrigued by what was going on in this different church. I would still sneak to go see, but I would stay outside and not join them in the service. I was still obeying, right? Another Sunday came, and my mother dropped us off at the Protestant church. I sat there for a while, and I was bored to tears. There were people around me sleeping, so I left. I decided to go to the born-again church. When I got back home, my mother had already gotten the news that I had gone there. She shouted at me and told me that she had warned me not to go. She whipped me good, but this did not deter me. I decided that since both churches were close to each other, I could attend them both!

When my mother would drop me off, I would stay for about half the service so that my mother’s friends would see me there if they were asked. I would leave my brother and sister there with a stern warning not to move until I got back. I would then run all the way to the born-again church and see what was happening there. Oh, how I loved their music. I would dance and dance. At this church, they would talk about Jesus a lot. There was always praise for Jesus and what he had done in their lives. My mother always thanked God, but what was the difference? It didn’t matter. Before they ended the service, I would run all the way back to the Protestant church to pick up my brother and sister. I did this time and time again until my mother found out. She whipped me again.

Later, my mom came to me and said that if I didn’t want to be a Protestant, then why not be a Catholic instead? She sent me to a Catholic boarding school. I did everything that I was told, everything they said would bring me closer to God, and yet I didn’t feel the joy I had experienced at the born-again church. I was very confused by it all. Then a day came when I was wandering in the city, and I saw a big tent. There were people going in the tent, and I could hear music. I heard from some passing people that they had free food there too, and it was being served by white people. When I got there, I saw this American man singing. He sang with so much joy, and afterward, he talked about Jesus and how he could give us unspeakable joy. He also talked about Jesus healing diseases and asked these simple questions: Would you like Jesus to come into your heart? Would you like him to come into your life? Come forward. So I did, and he told me that I was born again.

He was pierced for our sins, he was crushed for our transgressions, but the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we were healed. (Isa. 53:5)

When I got home, I told my mom what had happened. I told her the good news about Jesus and how I was born again. She was beyond mad this time, but I got away from her before she could grab me to whip me again.

I believe truly that children can get saved. I remember how I felt at that time, and it is almost indescribable the happiness I had inside. Even when I was struck down with malaria and my mother had gathered all the herbs with which to fight it and still I didn’t recover, I remembered the words that man had said inside that tent. He had said that Jesus was a healer, and I believed him. I prayed to Jesus to heal me, and he did that instant! I went to my mother, and she was so shocked to see me up and about. I told her that Jesus had healed me. She checked my forehead and said that indeed I was no longer hot but that I was not to speak the language of those born-again people. However, she didn’t whip me this time.

Next, my mother was struck down with malaria, and she wasn’t getting well. I asked her if she would like me to pray for her, and she allowed me to. Again, she was instantly healed. She told people in the village what had happened and encouraged people to come to me if they were sick with malaria. My relationship with Jesus started from there, but even with this proof before her, my mother still didn’t want me to go to that church; and since I was still enrolled in that Catholic school, I felt I had to keep Jesus in my heart. My mom felt so strongly against me being born again that when we were vacationing at my aunt’s house one day, she mentioned to her how I had switched from being a Protestant to being a Catholic. My aunt didn’t believe in either and suggested to my mother that perhaps I should be Muslim. Anything was better than being a born again according to my mother, so she put me in these classes where this Muslim guy came to preach, and hence, I then became a Muslim. I was told how many times a day to pray and how to fast. When it was time for fasting, I had a hard time. I was about nine years old at the time and had never gone long without eating, even during the war, but I was willing to do anything to praise God since I had been told this was the only way to be rewarded. So I did what was expected of me by praying when I should and avoiding eating anything that was unclean, and I believed that I must be on the right road. I was a Muslim for six months.

In the Muslim religion, I was taught that you would get a black spot on your forehead if God was pleased with you. This happened to me, but not in the way you would expect. Whenever I would kneel and pray, I would rub my forehead in the dirt, and thus, a black spot appeared on me. My aunt saw it and was overjoyed and explained to me that I was being rewarded by God. Everyone was so happy, but I was so hungry. There was this mango tree in her yard, and I thought that I would just eat one to ease my hunger from the fasting. A cousin of mine saw me and told my aunt. She was so mad at me, you would think that I had been stealing. She said I wasn’t a true Muslim to have done such a thing and that all the teachings and things I had learned were for nothing. She said I was a shameless girl and that she was sending me back to my mother. My cousins all laughed at me, and I was so hurt.

I was so upset in my heart after all this. I didn’t want anything to do with any kind of religion at all. I felt that God was so hard to please. I had done everything I could, and I was repaid by my mother whipping me, my aunt rejecting me, and my cousins laughing at me. I was so confused and disappointed that I couldn’t get the joy I had been searching for. In fact, I decided that I agreed with the other nonbelievers that there was no God at all, that it was just in people’s heads. So that was the end of me and God and religion as a whole.

How I Met My Best Friend

Rosie and I met at a volleyball court. I used to play volleyball, and so did Rosie. I didn’t know much about her, only that all of a sudden she stopped coming to school. I remember one day I was walking in the street and Rosie saw me and called out my name. She started the conversation by asking if I remembered her from volleyball, and I told her that I did. We chatted, and I asked her what she was doing with her life, and she told me that she had dropped out of school. She explained that she hadn’t liked school, and that was why she had dropped out. She had a job now. I thought that she was very young to have a job, but I didn’t really care that she did.

A righteous man is wise in his friendship, but the way of the wicked leads them astray. (Prov. 12:26)

The fact that Rosie had stopped going to school because she didn’t like it and not because she was in great need of money should have been a sign of things to come for me, but it wasn’t. Hindsight sure is twenty-twenty.

How Close We Were

Rosie and I connected immediately. She was always making jokes, and I found out that she liked doing a lot of the same things that I liked to do—watching movies, walking the streets late at night, and dancing. We didn’t live too far away from each other, so when I was finished with my duties at home, I would go and visit her. At the time, she had a single-room place that she shared with her nephew. She didn’t make lots of money, but with the money that she had left over, she would share some of it with me, buying food and taking us to the movies and stuff. We really enjoyed each other’s company and were together often, so much so that people started calling us sisters. It was to the point that when people saw us without each other, they would ask where our sister was.

Plans and Dreams We Shared

One of the dreams I had was to travel. I really wanted to see what the world had to offer. I wished to have money that I had earned myself, preferably from my own business. It was important to me that I get my mom a new house. Our house was in disrepair. Any time it rained, the roof would leak in several places. We would scurry about, trying to find pots, cups, basins, or whatever we could find to catch the water. Most of all, I wanted to live by the beach. I loved gazing out at the sea and viewing the sun set over the ocean. It looked to me as if the two were touching.

Rosie also wanted to travel. She wanted to work in a hotel in another country. I am not sure what kind of job she wanted there, but it didn’t matter.

In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. (Prov. 16:9)

It is God who can bring our plans to fruition. For me, that meant an education. Rosie’s plan was to work hard and save money. At the time, Rosie told me that she was working at the university in Makere. She was a professor’s assistant.

Rosie’s Family Background

Rosie’s mother and father had both remarried. She only had one sibling, a brother, with whom she shared the same parents. The rest were from her parents’ remarriages. This brother with whom she shared full blood was her favorite. She spoke of him often. It didn’t seem to me that she had much of a connection with her stepsiblings.

She had lots of other relatives, so many in fact that we would see them everywhere, and she would point them out and tell me who was who and how they were related to her. Her mother lived close enough to her that she would still go over there often to eat dinner.

Rosie told me lots of things about her family. One thing was the fact that she didn’t get along with her mom. The cause of that in particular, she said, was because of something that had happened a long time ago. One day a woman came by her mom’s house, claiming that the baby she had borne was her father’s illegitimate child. The woman claimed that she had been trying to contact Rosie’s father, but without success. Rosie’s mom and the woman got into an argument, and it ended with the woman running away and leaving the baby behind. Rosie’s mom took the baby and threw it in the latrine and fled, leaving Rosie and her brother, who were little at the time. Rosie didn’t like her mom because of this, but not as much as her brother hated her. Her brother vowed to never see her again, but Rosie did seek her out sometime after the war. I wondered why Rosie’s mom didn’t end up in jail. She said it was because it was a long time ago during the Idi Amin regime. When the war was over, Rosie’s mom came back because it was a new government. After all, if you had lived through it and did not get killed by Amin, you were considered a living miracle.

Another reason that Rosie didn’t like her mom much was because her mother treated her stepsiblings better than Rosie. For this reason, she also had animosity toward them. It didn’t help that her stepsister was very beautiful and that she and her brother were going to the university. She told me how her mother gave them money and stuff. The thing is, though, Rosie’s mom was paying for Rosie’s small room. When she dropped out of school, her mom got her the job Rosie was now working.

After finding out about her siblings, I realized that Rosie must be much older than I originally thought she was. I mean, she had to be a lot older than me to have younger siblings in the university. I asked her how old she was, and she became very angry, asking why did it matter how old she was. So I left it alone, knowing that she was definitely older than I was even though she didn’t look like it. It didn’t matter to me, and after hearing all about her family, I just felt sorry for her.

A friend loves at all time, and a brother is born for adversity. (Prov. 17:17)

What Others Thought about My Best Friend

My mother met Rosie for the first time one day when I brought her over for lunch. When Rosie left, my mother sat me down and told me that Rosie was not a nice girl and that I mustn’t hang out with her anymore. She said that that day should be the last time that I saw her.

Understanding is the fountain of life to those who have it, but folly brings punishment to fools. (Prov. 16:22)

My mother discerned something in Rosie, but I didn’t want to hear it. I told her that she just didn’t like Rosie and that nothing I did pleased her.

There came a day when Rosie and I were walking in the streets, and these German tourists stopped us and asked us for directions to the king’s palace. Rosie and I offered to take them ourselves, and they were so grateful that we did that they offered to take us out to dinner. While there, one of the guys asked to speak to me outside, so I went. When were out there, he asked me why I was hanging out with Rosie and said that she was not a good person. I said I didn’t know what he meant. I was shocked to hear this from him and my mother because to me, she hadn’t done anything wrong.

For wisdom will enter your heart and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul. Discretion will guard you. Wisdom will save you from the ways of wicked men from men whose words are perverse. (Prov. 2:10-13)

At that time in my life, I lacked so much wisdom. They weren’t telling me these things about Rosie because of something they saw her do; they were sensing her spirit. I truly believe that God was warning me at that time about Rosie, but I was too naive to see it.

Still another time came when there were two girls who also talked to me about Rosie. In my mind, I just thought that no one liked her. There was even a lady that met Rosie and me in the street, and she told me to my face that Rosie had a bad heart. I refused to believe it, I guess, but maybe more than that, I just despised correction.

When you walk your steps will not be hampered; when you run you will not stumble. Hold on to instruction, do not let it go; guard it well for it is your life. (Prov. 5:12-13)

To anyone reading my words, I say this: Listen to the people in your life who are correcting you and giving you instruction, even if it doesn’t make sense at the time. If these are your loved ones speaking to you, value their judgment and their wisdom from past experiences. Even if it seems like they are wrong with opposite opinions of the friend you laugh with or the love interest you have been spending time with, heed their words. Even if that person hasn’t done anything wrong in your eyes (like it happened with me and Rosie), don’t harden your heart against those loved ones and, in this case, perfect strangers as well and end up blind to the truth.

There Were Some Things I Didn’t Like about Rosie…

I went looking for Rosie one day at the university, only I couldn’t find her where I thought she would be. I asked somebody where she was, and they told me that they knew who she was but that she wasn’t working as an assistant to any professor there. When I found her, she was cleaning up a classroom. I was twelve years old and naive, and I didn’t think to question the fact that she was an assistant to a professor even though she had dropped out of school and didn’t have the education for a job like that. When I confronted her about it, she said that she didn’t want to tell anybody her job was cleaning classrooms and toilets because they would laugh at her. I understood how she felt, so I left her alone about it.

Rosie introduced me to some girls she knew, one of which was a girl named Sarah. Sarah was a pretty, well-mannered girl. Rosie told me that Sarah only talked to boys from rich families and that she had a boyfriend, that she would point him out to me one day. There was another girl whom she didn’t like and mentioned that she had AIDS. I wondered how she knew this, and she told me that if I