It’s midnight, as I lie awake beside him. My head is filled with confusion. I weigh the options for the next course of action to take. I am struggling to sleep and, worse still, I cannot stand seeing his face. Part of me is telling me to stab him and end all the misery, but the other side is warning me not to.
My whole body is filled with anger and fury as I crawl out of bed and wander around the house before heading to the lounge, where I sit feeling helpless until 5 o’clock.
I dial my parents’ number and in no time my father answers with a sleepy voice. Tears trickling down my cheeks, my voice hoarse because of the rage inside me, I present my father with the options: I ask him whether he wants me dead or for me to murder someone and be jailed.
I tell my father that he hit me again, and I cannot not stand the violence anymore. ‘If you love me, dad, I want you to rescue me.”
‘Calm down my daughter, I will be there shortly,” is his response and in an hour, he is at the gate. One look at my face says it all. My eyes, mouth, every part of my body is swollen. There is no doubt what happened. He looks me in the eye, shakes his head and takes me in his arms and cuddles me like a child. ‘Are you ready to leave?” he asks me.
‘Yes, dad. I can’t take it anymore,” I say, tears trickling down my cheeks. He asks me to pack my bags and come home with him. I comply, take my things and leave without saying a word to my husband, who has become my worst enemy.
I hate him.
‘I don’t ever want you to come back to this man. If you decide to come back, don’t ever dare call me,” my dad says in anger.
It is the third time my father has come to collect me after my husband has beaten me up. This time he beat me because he accused me of having extramarital affairs, after a male relative called. Previously the reasons were that I was disrespectful and was not a suitable wife.
Every attempt I made to run away was fruitless because my relatives kept telling me: ‘That is what marriage is like,” and that I had to soldier on to save my marriage.
My father sat me down when we got home and he told me that I was never going to go back to my husband. He told me he was tired of coming to rescue me. He invited some counsellors who talked to me and told me I did not have to go back to my husband if I didn’t want to. They told me that I did not deserve to be beaten up and they told me that the end result was going to be death if I did not protect myself.
After some time I recovered. My father gave me some money to start a small business. I joined my friend in crossing the border to South Africa and Botswana. I soon became a cross-border trader, joined streams of Zimbabweans buying and selling various wares. My customers grew by the day. I also managed to secure a stand at a flea market. My husband came after me, as he always did, and tried to sweet-talk me into going back home. But this time I was adamant.
My life is much better now. I have been liberated and I would like to encourage other women in abusive relationships to take the bold steps to free themselves and to report the perpetrators. I realise now I could easily have been killed because I allowed him to make me into a punch bag. I thank my father for being there for me and rescuing me.
* Not her real name. Tariro Benga is a writer from Zimbabwe; this story was shared with her by a survivor of gender-based violence and is part of the ‘I” stories series produced by the Gender Links Opinion and Commentary Service for the 16 Days of Activism on Gender Violence
View more on our special report on 16 days of activism here.