When I finally came around Ziad had left me on the floor, soaked in my own blood. I lay there for what seemed like forever looking up at the ceiling, my mind blank from any thought, unable, and not wanting to move. I finally picked myself up and quietly made my way into the bathroom, closing the door behind me so not to wake the children as I sat in the shower and washed away the blood that covered my whole body.
Ziad had viciously raped me and he had done so without fear of leaving his evidence behind! I picked out the pieces of glass that were stuck in my body, thanking God that although my wounds were bad they did not look life threatening. My body was covered from head to toe in marks and cuts from where I had struggled over broken glass and where he had beaten and raped me.
I thought about cleaning up the blood and mess in the rooms, only because I didn’t want Tarek to see it when he woke up, but he was going to see me, and I didn’t know how I would explain this to him. The new white carpet in the bedroom was full of blood drops, but I had no energy to clean it, so I sat in the chair in the corner of the bedroom and silently wept as I looked at my children, and thanked God they hadn’t woken up during their father’s vicious attack.
Until this night I didn’t have any bad feelings towards Ziad, although I’d never loved him, I’d respected him for treating me kindly. This night had changed everything; Ziad wasn’t the man I thought he was. He had become like a vicious animal and he had the nerve to blame me because I was a child bride, and didn’t live up to his expectations! I knew I had to protect myself and my children from this man; yes he was their father, but he was evil, and I didn’t know whether or not he was capable of hurting them.
It was early hours of the morning and the sun was up when I finally fell asleep on the chair, dreading the day ahead. Ayoka knocked at the bedroom door early morning because she could hear Issy crying, even though I hadn’t; Ziad had damaged one of my ears and it affected my hearing. When I went to move from the chair, the memories of the night before came flooding back. I could hardly move because I was in so much pain so I called out for her to come in, and as soon as she saw my injuries she rushed over to help me.
She knelt by my side and held my hand, I could see the pity and concern in her face as her eyes welled up with tears. Although we didn’t speak the same language we managed to communicate, and I asked her to take the children and keep them away from me because I didn’t want Tarek to see me in pain.
Tarek woke up and tried to jump on me wanting to play, but I told him he couldn’t because Mummy had fallen down the stairs and hurt herself.
Ayoka took the children from me but came back a while later with Matata, telling me she had left the children with Danso and now they wanted to help me. They argued between themselves for a while because Ayoka wanted me to go to the hospital but Matata was worried what Ziad would say. He said we should wait for Ziad to wake up before taking me anywhere because he couldn’t tell the driver to do anything without Ziad’s permission. He said he was never allowed to wake him up unless it was a real emergency.
I was helped into bed, where I stayed for the rest of the day while Ayoka treated my wounds and told me she felt that I had broken ribs. My nose was broken, my jaw was badly swollen and I could barely talk or swallow; my face alone looked like a huge black and blue football! She cared for the children away from me for the rest of the day, while Danso cleaned the blood off the carpets and cleared away the broken glass from the coffee table.
Ziad woke up late afternoon and walked into the bedroom totally ignoring me as I lay in bed battered and bruised; he went straight into the bathroom and continued singing whilst he showered. When he came out he looked at me with a grin on his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked sarcastically, while sitting on the edge of the bed next to me and pulling the bed sheet off me.
I struggled to speak as I pulled the sheet back up. “Get lost Ziad! I’m not playing your pathetic games anymore; you can go and do whatever you want!”
“Good!” he said, standing up. “Well, maybe next time you will do as you’re told. Now, where are my children?” he mumbled, leaving the room. I never went to the hospital, most of my injuries healed slowly over time.
Chapter Sixteen
Please Don’t Hurt My Children!
Issy became sick a few months after we got to Africa. She was always a small baby but healthy, however once we arrived in Africa she was always picking up infections. She had a fever and her whole body had swollen up within hours and she became worse around early afternoon, but nobody wanted to wake Ziad to ask him to take us to the hospital.
I barged into his flat and found him asleep, next to the same women I’d caught him having sex with the first time he had raped me, but I didn’t care. I woke him up and he was furious with me, cursing and shouting at me to get out of the room, but I refused until he gave me permission for the driver to take Issy to hospital.
When we got to the hospital Abu, the driver, took us straight in and introduced us to a doctor. As soon as the doctor heard I was Ziad’s wife, and Issy was his daughter, we got the royal treatment and Issy was rushed into a private room and hooked up to an IV injection. Although the doctors had no clue to what was wrong with her, Issy’s condition was critical and when the doctor told me there was a chance she wasn’t going to make it my whole world felt as if it was falling apart.
I sent Abu back to get word to Ziad because as much as I hated him he was still her father, and if she was going to die then he needed to be here with us. When Abu came back and told me that Ziad had told him he was going out, but would try and pop in later, I was devastated! Ziad had chosen his lifestyle over his own daughter. I didn’t care how he treated me, but I did care how he treated my children. Abu could see I was upset.
“Not to worry mistress, I will stay with you,” he kindly offered, but I knew only too well that if he stayed away with the car he would get into a lot of trouble. I thanked him and sent him back, asking him to ask Ayoka to stay with Tarek because I wasn’t coming home that night. I told him I needed her to make sure she kept him away from his father when he returned drunk that night.
Issy made no improvement during the night and the IV in her hand became so swollen they had to take it out of her hand and cut open her leg, and then hook it into a vein just above her ankle before stitching it up. It broke my heart seeing her lying there in the hospital bed lifeless, while her father was out not giving his daughter a second thought!
Ziad stumbled into hospital in the early hours of the morning drunk, hurling abuse at the doctor that was treating Issy. I sat next to my daughter in silence, too embarrassed to speak as he warned the doctor that if his daughter died he would sack him. He drunkenly bragged about how he owned the hospital and most of Africa, and then he left without even looking at his daughter or speaking to me.
After Ziad left I apologised to the doctor, who told me that I didn’t need to apologise on Ziad’s behalf; he said they were used to his ignorance. I asked what Ziad meant about owning the hospital and he told me that although he didn’t own the hospital, Ziad’s family donated a lot of money to the hospital, therefore received top privileges in the hospital, and most of Bangui. The doctor told me that although there wasn’t much he himself could do about it, he was becoming tired of Ziad and his behaviour.
That night as I slept next to my daughter in hospital I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamt that I was bathing her in the bathtub back at the flat and as the water emptied she was being sucked down the plughole with the water. I was screaming in my sleep as I struggled and struggled to pull her out, and when I awoke I was still struggling to pull her out. I couldn’t go back to sleep that night too scared of what might happen to her in my dream if it came back!
Over the next few days, the IV in her leg became so infected it left her with no flesh around her ankle and a deep scar for life, but she pulled through. She stayed in hospital for a week. Her father didn’t visit her again after the first night.
I’d written a few letters to Yas and spoken to her on the phone, but I decided not to tell her what Ziad had been doing to me. I knew how badly it would affect her especially so late into her pregnancy. When she finally told me she had a baby girl who she had called Ghania after Abdul’s mother, I was over the moon! Ghania was healthy in every way possible and she had no problems growing like Nasseem had.
I knew Yas was busy now that she was the wife of a diplomat, but I needed her help. One afternoon I rang her from my flat. I didn’t do it too often because Ziad had warned me not to use the phone, but I needed to speak to her. I didn’t go into full detail but I told her that Ziad was drinking and seeing other women, that he was becoming violent and that I was in trouble; I told her I wanted to come back to the Yemen.
Yas knew things must have been bad for me to say that I wanted to come back to Yemen, but she told me not to. She told me that Uncle Jim had visited her in Yemen; there was nothing he could do for us anymore because now we had children of our own. She said if we ever wanted to go back to England we would have to leave our children behind unless their father gave us permission to take them.
Yas reminded me that I had my passport with my children on it and told me to try and see if I could get a ticket and escape, anywhere, as long as it wasn’t back to the Yemen. Both Yas and I knew we would never leave the Yemen without our children, even if it meant that we were being abused for the rest of our lives! We had grown up without a mother and would never allow that to happen to our children, but we had also lived in Yemen, and come to realise that if we allowed our children to grow up there, then they would be abused just like we had been!
I knew I couldn’t go out and look for a ticket because I wasn’t allowed out alone, and I’d begun to lose trust in Matata; I was starting to suspect that he told Ziad what the other servants got up to so that he would look good, but I trusted Ayoka.
I could see in her eyes that even though she was terrified of Ziad, she hated him enough to help us because she loved me and the children. I always gave her extra money and gifts because I knew she was poor and I loved the way she protected and looked after my children; I knew she would help me.
One day I sat down with her in my bedroom and showed her my passport. Once again we communicated as we always did and she understood me when I told her I needed a ticket to run away. Ayoka was excited when she took my passport and looked at it, laughing as she made sounds like an airplane flying high, until she looked at the date, my passport was only valid for six months, and the expiry date had passed.
I wasn’t able speak to Yas on the phone anymore because Ziad had violently beat me with it during one of his vicious attacks, after he found out I’d used it to call my sister. His attacks had become more frequent, more violent, and I was spending more and more days held up in bed.
I’d also sent loads of letters to Yas through the post office with Matata but had no reply, and Ayoka told me she suspected they were given back to Ziad. This was because Nasser Ziad part owned the post office in Bangui, something I’d never known before! I was stuck.
Unable to communicate with my sister I had no hope of getting out of Africa, or letting her know how much trouble I was in. Ayoka told me she might be able to send a letter for me through the post office. She said the people at the post office didn’t know her, therefore they wouldn’t suspect the letter was from me. I wrote two letters, one to Yas, and one to Dad, both addressed to Yas asking her to pass Dad’s on to him.
I’d sent Dad letters before but he never sent me one back so this time I begged him to come for me or to at least send me a passport! I knew he was violent and cruel himself, but I was convinced once he knew that Ziad was hurting me he would come and rescue me, after all I was his daughter!
Ayoka took the letters and went to the post office, and later she happily returned and told me she had sent them without anyone suspecting. A few days later when Ayoka didn’t turn up for work I asked Danso where she was. He told me Ziad had found out she had sent a letter for me through the post office; he said she had been badly beaten but he wouldn’t tell me by whom. I was devastated! I asked Danso to help me contact her but he refused because he was too scared. So was Abu, and Matata insisted he didn’t know where she lived.
Ziad and I argued about her because I knew he was behind it, but he denied knowing the reason why she didn’t turn up for work. A new nanny was brought in, but we didn’t have the same bond as I did with Ayoka.
Ayoka and I would play with the children and she would hang out in my room with me and listen to music. I would lend her make-up and jewellery and she was the one who tended to my wounds every time Ziad raped and beat me. Losing her was like losing a best friend.
It seemed like any company was better than no company after Ayoka left, so when a couple of strangers turned up on my door one day wanting to come in I was open for discussion. First of all I didn’t know how to talk to them; they were talking French, the language that most people spoke in Bangui after the native language. Although I’d learnt a little French I couldn’t speak well so I told them that I couldn’t understand them. They were showing me leaflets, something to do with God, but I didn’t have a clue what they were saying. “English! I speak English!” I said as they babbled on.
That was the first time I’d ever met a Jehovah’s Witness! One of them pulled out a little leaflet from his bag, it was in English and I snatched it from his hand as if it was precious, because to me it was. I hadn’t seen an English book in years! He told me in broken English how he would be back tomorrow with someone who could speak good English.
“Make sure you do please, they have to be female or I will get in trouble and bring books, lots of books!” I pleaded.
I wasn’t religious and never would be, but I hadn’t been allowed to read English books since coming from England, so the thought of being able to sit down and chat to someone in English for a while put a smile on my face. That night I sat on the balcony and read the little leaflet. It was a story about Jehovah and the last days on Earth, how heaven was such a lovely place. I had no idea who Jehovah was, but I was sure I was about to find out!
The next day two females turned up with lots of small leaflets, and one big book, the Bible. All I wanted to do was to sit and chat but they were there for a reason, to spread the word of God! If I wanted them to continue with their visits then I needed to start studying the Bible, which was fine by me, because I had nothing better to do in Africa!
That’s when I started studying the Bible as a Jehovah’s Witness. I didn’t do it because I believed in God or wanted to; I did it because I wanted the English books and English conversation. They visited me twice a week and even when Ziad found out he just laughed at me, but allowed them to visit because they posed no threat to him.
At first I didn’t take the lessons they offered seriously, but when I started to realise they could offer me a way to escape Ziad, I became engrossed in Bible studies. Jehovah’s Witnesses were not scared of Ziad or Nasser Ziad’s empire, because they had their own empire. The only thing they feared was God. So when they told me I could take my children and leave Ziad and join them, I was willing to do whatever it took!
They told me as long as I passed my Bible studies and pledged my life to God I would be under their protection. I could walk out of my life with Ziad and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it, but it was hard work, and it would take years because I had to read and learn the entire Bible! I was willing to do whatever it took to escape the life we were in.
I was promised my children wouldn’t have to become Jehovah’s Witnesses; once they grew up it would be their own choice. There was a lot in their beliefs I didn’t agree with, a lot in religion itself I hated, but I didn’t hate it as much as the life my children and I were living! I figured once I’d escaped Ziad, I could most probably escape them. I was willing to try!
Ali, Ziad’s uncle, had been living in one of the flats since we both arrived in Africa; I hardly saw him
around because he worked long hours and turned a blind eye when he saw me black and blue. Now his wife Dobia was arriving in Africa to live in the flat next door, and although I’d never got on with her in Yemen I was happy she was coming. I was lonely and needed company.
When Dobia turned up we put the past behind us and started getting along, she brought me a letter from Yas, the letter Ayoka had posted did get through, Ziad must have found out too late! Yas told me Dad was sorting things out, and for me not to worry. She also told me she was pregnant again, and she was going to England for a holiday.
Although she was happy about going to England the news was also sad, because Yas told me she wasn’t planning on running away once she got there, she couldn’t live in England knowing I was still suffering. I knew Yas and I had planned to escape one day and get back home, and I wished I could have contacted her to tell her to take her chance while she could, but I also knew nothing I could say would change her mind.
Dobia told me that Umie Ayesha had heard the rumours about what Ziad was still doing over here and wasn’t happy. Maybe Umie Ayesha did think she knew what Ziad was up to, but she didn’t know the whole truth, nobody did! I didn’t tell Dobia the whole story, just that Ziad beat me; it was embarrassing, humiliating and degrading, and I could never fully speak to anyone about the real horrors of what Ziad did to me when he raped me, not even to my own sister.
By the time Dobia arrived, Ziad had left me alone because I’d found out I was pregnant. First of all he didn’t care and the abuse carried on until I started to get big, then he told me I disgusted him and he left me alone.
When she arrived I was around seven months pregnant and my belly was huge! It was a miracle the baby had survived in the first place after the abuse Ziad put me through. I’d gone to the hospital a few times through my pregnancy for check-ups because of complications and the doctors had seen the bruising and commented, but I’d always made excuses, even if I did tell someone, nobody could help me.
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