Carlotta,

Many are times I have inquired about the meaning of life, not in a psychological or philosophical sense but just in a human sense. I have wondered about the meaning of life and all the prohibitions that come with it...it is true that with education, I have come to realize that the "donts" are summaries of a deep moral reasoning behind.

There are times that I questioned the "don'ts" and felt rebelious, but mainly because I was so short-sighted to see the values behind them. I have been fortunate to be a virgin for a long time...I had a girl friend and much as I wanted her badly, she was just not ready...and for some reason, I managed to respect her...

I was later to be separated from her but then again I am not a virgin but my love for a woman was entirely shaped by this girl. I know what it means to be used...there was in my class a girl I had no love for whatsoever, but because men mocked her because of her wanting in beauty, I felt sorry for her and kept her company...she took this for show of love...and began to make moves, honestly I did not want and I felt so bad about it...I did not want to lay with her but at the same time I could not bring myself to hurting her feelings.

Finally I made a compromise with myself: I told myself that I would only kiss her. I did that when the opportunity provided itself. It was the most insincere act I have ever done. She felt my absence in the act, like a child deceiving mum that the medicine is okay...I felt used and abused...I hated myself and felt like trash. She was my friend and it is not her physical looks that I disowned, it is just that we did not click...but the feelings of being used was there all the same.

One thing women fail to realize is that even us men, we are vulnerable. I know in this country how women have chased after me...when I was in Graduate School two ladies fought over me for no good reason. I had been invited for coffee at Starbucks by one lady (an American) as we discussed a class subject...as we left, we decided to use her car and come back to the Campus for studies at the library.

There was also a Polish girl (came to the States at the age of seven, no accent) who had made some move without success. She was lean and tall the exact opposite of the American. She could not understand why I chose this one over her (it was her thinking that we were too close) and so she made a fool out of herself...but the point is that the way she used to sit next to me in class, ask for my notes, keep my book, reserve seat for me when am late, if I came earlier and all seats taken, she'd take over someone's seat at break time...boy! It was unbearable...she was literally a stalker.

Friends adviced me to take her "since she is beautiful" but I do not believe that beauty is the mark of true relationship...certainly I value beauty and I go for it...but love for me is more important. I did not love these ladies, I just cared for them...I was there for what our common interest was, academic and besides that, nothing.

I know that this is shameful but I was raped by my aunt (Mother's sister) she was living with us when she was in high school and did not have time to mix with others...she loved me very much though she was a teenager and I, only a little boy. She told me to "do it" or she'd tell my mum that I was a bad boy. The most painful thing is that as early as those years (six years old) I felt dirty...I hated sex...I felt that I belonged to *Ibilisi and hell was my lot.

We had a Christian picture on the wall of someone dying and a priest praying over her but the devil was pulling her with the bed-sheets to hell. The Chief-Devil was in the Fire dressed in Red, the other devils were naked black-men with tails and horns (no offence intended, I am not a racist); that is what I thought of myself...I will go to hell because of sleeping with a woman whom I call "mama mdogo" ... for us aunts actually are only sisters of your father and uncles are only brothers of your father (sisters of your mother are your mamas and brothers of your fathers are babas...**mkubwa au mdogo kulingana na ujediri wa kuzawa).

It is strange how this woman thought that what she did to a six year old would be forgotten by the kid. She got married and was out of my life for many years. She lived in Lamu and my dad somehow thought that WaLamu are dirty and backward so we hardly went there...well, in 1999 I went to Malindi to visit a friend and I met her...I had forgotten how she looked like but I remembered that she was a stutterer and what she did.

She asked me if I could identify her, well I could not because she spoke without that speech-disorder now that she was older. When she introduced herself, boy did I feel sick? She asked me what the matter was but I could not say, thinking that she had forgotten and only I could remember it. I told her that I will be okay...that for a moment I just had to chase the demon from my heart.

This lady became interestingly very curious. She pulled me aside and asked what exactly happened to me...and looking at her straight in the eye, I had the courage to say: "I remember everything." She knew then and could not deny it...I asked her why she hurt me...dumb as she was, she said that she thought men love it and that she thought it was a favour. I cannot imagine the terrible insult I felt...I just could not talk. When I am very badly hurt, I tend to be speechless until things calm down...I left and went.

I had never been bothered by that, in fact there was nothing in my life that had reference to the child-abuse I experienced almost on a daily basis. I thought I loved women like any young man and did not run for sex because I was respecting women. Well, it turned out that I needed feminine affection but I was not emotionally mature due to my childhood experience. I felt safe near women who would love and care without demanding for sex. Girls came to love me, not because I was that handsome but because they felt that there were no ulterior motives behind my affection for them.

I played with them, in school they read their boy-friends' letters and were not shy to give me a peep. Yet in the group, there would be little pickings if I tended to favour one a little more. They did not mind being alone with one of them so long as there was some balance. I became good in school because girls are good in team work and group studies...we gave each other assignment and worked them out together...

There was just great affection until I began to change voice and to grow pubic hair. My beared came a little too early...and my arms and chest hairy. At first they did not mind, then a little touch and giggles made me begin to feel that I was different, then the illegal kiss and the rest follows...I grew up normally and loved one woman at a time, never cheating but truly giving the whole of me to her...I love to love more than enjoy being loved...I just can do little things because I have been brought up by a good loving mother and nice beautiful and caring sisters...yet my aunt was a she-devil.

I understand what you are saying about fear, but I think you cannot remain in your past. There is a present you are losing and a future you are destroying. There is need for you to wake up and begin to live your life. I am here for you and I want you to know that I will be there. There are not many things I am good at, but the few that I can do, I do them without dissipation. I am the kind of guy that is not ashamed to say "I am sorry" when I am wrong. I am not ashamed to let you know that I am not perfect...if perfection is what you are looking for, then you missed your desire by choosing me.

I can only promise you progress in becoming better, discussion early enough before things get worse, and loving you as you are. I just want to be taken as I am but not be left as I am found. I want to take you as you are and make you even better. Your success is mine for the praise that people give to you is my glory as the man who lives with it...I wanna make you proud to be a woman and to see that manhood is not oppresive but complementing...I want to share with you my life, for what greater gift could I ever give to someone than the gift of my very self.

Tell me, which person would choose to hand over his or her life to someone he did not mean to love with all his heart. This would be the most stupid of all acts - an act unworthy of a rational being. If I understand marriage to be a merging together, a handing over of the self to the other so as to receive the "other-together-with-you-as-given" and if you know that we never meet ourselves unless through the other, then it only follows that one who gives the WHOLE of the self to the other, gets what the other has given plus the WHOLE of his/herself...at least if the other denies you her self, then you will be rewarded by getting yourself back...I have to love the person who has taken me over...and I must be so caring for the trust vested upon me by one who hands over her life to me.

The responsibility to take care of the other's life is more demanding than to take care of your own. The security that someone else is taking care of your life is so refreshing that you are left free to care for her life. I then have a reason to go to work ... I am working for her and her children that now she calls "mine too" I work for her happiness because when she laughs she tells me "thank you" in a better way than using the word "thank you"...when she talks to me, her attention is just overwhelming...sometimes she lies on my chest just to make it even more evident that she knows that her life is in my hands...when I eat food prepared by her, it just tastes differently...the clothes she buys for me are better than those I buy for myself...the matching she makes for me in the morning to wear is a better taste than my own. The women at work when they admire me, I tell them that it is my wife who made the choice...you are my subject of conversation, my joy at home, my pain in your absence, my desire when frustrated, my rest when tired, my pleasure when tense, my food when hungry, my fong to sing when blue, my love for life, and my life for love.

Barney