Chapter 2 - THE MARRIAGE THAT MADE ME.

My mother often told me about the day I came into this world. It was on a chilly Wednesday morning, 8th June 1999, when she woke up to sharp pain in her protruding belly. She shouted for help, hoping someone would hear her. Luckily, John was outside and came to her aid. She was rushed to the nearest hospital, where she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl—me.I was underweight because my mother barely ate during her pregnancy. The doctors took me to the nursery, and she would go there to breastfeed me. She told me how my tiny hands and legs brought so much joy into her life. I was her first child, and in that moment, she became a mother. The love she felt was beyond anything she had ever known, and she said I brought light into her dark life.She had no clothes for me, except for one shawl she had bought after saving a little money. The nurse wrapped me in it and placed me in her arms. We were discharged after a week in the hospital. Jane, my grandmother, took good care of my mother and me, making sure we were safe and supported. She made sure my mother ate well so that she could breastfeed me.Those few days, my mother said, were the happiest of her life. She named me Leila.I had no time to remain a baby; I had to grow up fast. My mother had to go to work to put food on the table. On cold early mornings, she would carry me on her back as she went to work at the tea plantation. My father, John, had become peaceful for a while, but he still provided nothing at home. My grandmother and uncle tried to talk to him, but his behavior never changed. My mother had hoped that having a baby would make him change, but he remained cold and showed her no affection. It was very hard for her, and eventually she grew tired and decided to return to her mother's home.The bus arrived at dusk. My mother carried me on her back and balanced a bag in her hand as she walked into the homestead."Mary, welcome, my child. Let me help you with the bag," my grandmother said excitedly, motherly love clear in her voice. It had been a long time since they had last talked or seen each other.The homestead brought back many memories of my mother's childhood. My aunts and uncles were now much bigger than when she had left them. They reunited happily and were eager to see me.My grandmother noticed how much weight my mother had lost and grew worried. My mother broke down in tears as she narrated what she had gone through in her marriage. At that point, she no longer cared what society or the neighbors would say. She could not take it anymore. All she wanted was to raise me and take good care of me.A few days after our arrival, my grandfather, Mark, came home from his long-distance job. He was a quiet, well-spoken man. My mother had rarely seen him shout. Most of the time when he was home, he stayed in his bedroom listening to his small radio. My mother and her siblings ran to hug him, happy that he was home. He was happy too—until his eyes met my mother holding me in her arms. His face changed, and without a word, he went inside the house.My grandmother knew he was not happy about my mother being home. Mark valued respect in society, and he believed my mother's situation would bring shame to the family. When he finally spoke, he chose his words carefully."Mary, come here," he said.My mother rushed and stood beside him."What happened? Why are you here? You should be at your husband's house," he said firmly.With tears in her eyes, my mother replied, "Dad, the marriage is not working. John is a different man. There is no peace in that house. He beats me all the time, and most days I sleep outside."My grandmother, Faith, had been listening from the next room."You can't stay here. You have to go back," Mark said coldly, without looking at her.At that moment, Faith joined them. My mother was crying uncontrollably."If she leaves, then I leave too. This is our daughter, Mark. I don't care about society. Are we going to let John kill her just for family respect?"Mark knew his wife was angry. He stood up and walked out.We stayed there for a few more weeks. One evening, John came and apologized to my mother and her family. He promised to take care of my mother and me. They packed and returned to her matrimonial home.Things did not change much. By the time I turned three years old, my mother was pregnant again. She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl—my little sister. I was so happy to have a sister.