Through the Fire

By Naome

Through the Fire is a life storybook that will captivate your mind, soul, and body. This is so because it is a true story written with the passion it deserves. The story is ugly, shameful, and may be even ridiculousone which should be kept in the closet under a lock and key. Nonetheless, after years of regret and trying to pretend this chapter of life never existed, the author had to come to terms with the fact that it will never be erased. Whether or not to share it with the world was another upward hill, deep inside there was this persistent call that someone needs to hear this near-death story and the dramatic deliverance. Why? Because it will captivate the reader, travel with him to a land never known, and then testify of the God of Israel who alone could have performed such acts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546230663

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

MY EARLY LIFE

I was an educated girl actually over educated by the standards of my clan and those around. No girl had ever gone that far. My education took me to Nairobi after Junior High School in one of the academic giant schools in the country, Nabisunsa Girls Secondary in Uganda. In Nairobi I undertook a full secretarial course and on part time, studied languages. Later I was to see myself undertaking short management and administrative courses that saw me start flying to a number of countries in our African continent. After college, I started working in Nairobi, a vocation that saw me work for national and international organizations, interacted with nationals of countries around the globe, organizing national and international conferences and meetings for diplomatic fraternity to mention but a few.

My working life was challenging but fun. I enjoyed the flattery and money that came with good performance. Needless to mention at this prime time in life, young and beautiful I also had the attention from the opposite sex which gave me the luxury of choice. I was enjoying my youth, so I thought.

I accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior at a young age of 14 years. A friend of my mother led me to the Lord. She told me about the love of Christ beyond just going to church and this changed my whole attitude towards life. My late daddy was a British trained policeman. At the time I started my teen life, daddy had been transferred to our home district on his request because he was preparing to retire. So as much as was possible, I spent my life in the barracks. As a blossoming young girl, daddy became increasingly weary of his colleagues because he believed they would distract me. Time and time again he talked about how they would play on my mind by just giving me a handful of sweets and that to him, that was a painful secret in his life. This was not made any easier by the fact that at the time I was growing up, girls were not expected to be in school beyond the first 4 years of education. That was for boys. My uncles hand drummed that home in his life. It was believed a girl my age should be groomed to be a housewife, trained in the art of taking care of children and be loyal to their husbands without question, after all the husbands usually bought them. They were a source of wealth because 18-30 head of cattle was guaranteed for the father of a well-behaved girl, a virgin. Such was the circumstance and attitude that surrounded me.

Right from the time I started P1 (Grade 1), (there were no nursery schools at that time), I have always been known as a tomboy. I was always around boys, wanted to do what boys did. If it was climbing trees and especially mango tree, that’s what I enjoyed. When boys took off their uniform shirts and remained in their pants in order to do the monkey play on trees, I would take off my uniform dress and remain in my pants too, after all the pants I had on were thigh high pants. If it was fighting, I would take the challenge never shying away from the boys’ fist. Many times I would truly beat the boys but often times I was also beaten. However the boys were my best friends. They were recognized as academic giants and I vowed I would never allow any boy to beat me in class just because he was a boy. Nonetheless there was this one boy who frustrated me up till the time we parted by ensuring that I was always in 2nd position by 2-5 marks. I would get real mad but then I needed him as a friend just to try and find how I could one day show him that intelligence was not a monopoly to the boys. That was never to happen and I look back and laugh.

Daddy was transferred to our home district when I was in Primary 6 (Grade 6). Before that I lived primarily with paternal grandparents and an uncle. My maternal grandparents were about 1 mile apart but on the way to my school. My blind paternal grandmother was good to me. I shared the same bed with her which was a bed of animal skin and a little piece of cloth would cover the bed. She would then cover me with her three-yard cloth that she could have been wearing during the day.

My other maternal grandparents were economically, emotionally and socially sound. At their home, I would sleep on a mattress stuffed with cotton wool and cover with a blanket. My great maternal grandmother loved me with all that was within her. She always kept the best for me. My uncle always never wanted me to go to their home but boy; a dog will always go where there is a bone. So whenever I spent a day or two after school at my maternal grandparents’ home, my uncle would beat me when I returned home. The more he did that, as sure as day was from night, I would not return the following day. On one such a day, he came home drunk and because he could not race with me, he summoned our dog (Prison) to chase me. Prison would get on my heels but would not harm me because I think he knew I belonged home and so uncle broke his leg on a heap of potato garden during that chase. The following day after school, I went to my maternal grandparents, told them the ordeal and never came home for two weeks. My uncle came for me but my grandparents cautioned him that if he ever beat me again for this reason, they would take me away permanently until mummy and/or daddy came back from their duty station. I had gone back to the village at an early age in order to attend school because daddy reasoned my school life would always be interrupted because of erratic transfers that were part of his duty as a policeman. This was the same with all other siblings. Whenever they attained school going age of 5 and above, the village was a must to ensure continuity in education. When daddy was transferred to our home district, I was in Primary 6 (Grade 6).

I was promoted to P7 (Grade 7) where at the end of the year I would have to sit for my Primary Leaving Certificate Examinations, daddy decided to take me to a boarding school where he believed I had a chance to have good grades.

Before the results came an incident occurred that almost made me loose it all. We were living in this barracks in our home district where daddy wanted to retire from, that is Police Barracks. Every weekend, daddy and mummy would ride to the village which was about four miles away from town and spend one or two nights depending when they left but always ensuring they return to the barracks Sunday evenings. Being the oldest among my siblings, I was always left in charge of my two brothers and 3 sisters. The saying goes that curiosity killed a cat and the boy said what did the cat want to know. Well this cat wanted to know something beyond the confines of the barracks. Soroti Hotel was hosting an army band from Moroto and that was a big deal. It had been advertised in town through the large loud speakers and I was excited, I wanted to go and explore. When on Friday daddy announced that mummy needed to stock up food for us because they had to go to the village, I couldn’t wait for the evening and so they left. After dinner, I asked my young brother to go with me to the hotel and listen to music and that we would not be long. Sam loved music too and so the two of us left. I was 14 years and my brother 8 years old. Really innocent mind, wanting to dance to the excitement of the music and nothing else. I had no date, just wanted to dance.

At about midnight, I told my brother it was time to go home and that is exactly what we did. As we approached home, there was light in the house and my heart started beating you could hear it from next door. Lo and behold, for whatever reason, My parents were back in the house. The door was open and daddy entered and I stood there like I had seen a ghost. To his death, daddy never beat a child as a way of discipline but he knew how to get you where he wanted you to be. His eyes were red with fury, mama’s eyes were red and wet with tears and my heart sunk. I had no answer to all the thousand questions that came out at once. Before I knew it my mama pounced on me like a hungry lion till I was numb. I cried until actually daddy had to rescue me. Believe you me; I think that woman was capable of killing me that night without knowing that she has actually committed manslaughter. After I was rescued from her hands, she started mourning like someone has just killed her mother, she did this until morning. I looked at her and I couldn’t place my crime in my innocence. Yes, I had gone out without telling them, I just danced, surely did it amount to all that was going on? Later in life I understood what mama was going through that night. Little did I know that, that one incident had given daddy a one-way ticket to agree with what every one, especially his brothers were saying. A girls’ place was the kitchen. He saw me getting pregnant outside wedlock and that meant shame and reproach but more so that I would loose value for marriage. Little did I know that the old man had made up his mind that he was not going to spend any more money on me for school fees. So even when the results came and I had excelled, that meant nothing to him.

My admission letter to Nabisunsa Girls Secondary School came and luckily enough it was mummy who received it. I was the first girl in the whole sub-county or perhaps the whole county that year to have ever been admitted to that prestigious school. I believe if this letter had landed in daddy’s hands, he probably would have hidden it or something. They started arguing about me going to school, I could hear him saying NO, NO, NO over and over again. Daddy said he did not have money and we thought he was joking. As the days for reporting to school