I was the poorest in our family of eight. Everybody in our family never wanted to respect nor hear anything I spoke. I was always embarrassed infront of my own family members.
Anytime there was a family meeting, I would not be given a chance to address and when I rose to speak a serious concern, my uncles would brash it off as nonsense.
It was very painful being raised in family that do not treat me well just because I was the poorest. Poverty is not a good thing anyway!
This life went on until even my small sisters could not respect me despite me having respect for them. They had been incited to hate me because of my status in the society. It was painful. The only person who treated me well was my mother.
She loved me the way I was until her death when I remained alone. I learnt to live with them that way until when I got a friend in Nairobi who offered to give me some brief refuge.
I then fled home and went to the city. I lived with Dennis for six months without a job. I was becoming a burden to him but he..TO READ MORE, TAP HERE
