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While it should have been a foregone conclusion, I was still sad when Jakob filed for divorce.
It happened near the end of my imprisonment term. I was holding the print copy of my autobiography, and I was looking forward to getting out of prison so I could involve myself in promoting my book. A guard approached me and spoke. “Ms Nyamwasa. Mr Jakob Auma is here to see you.”
The guard’s words confused me. Why had Jakob introduced himself with his full name instead of telling the guard he was my husband. I grabbed my book and replied to the guard. “Very well. Please lead me to the visitor room so I can speak to my husband.
The guard nodded and he led me to the visitor room. As I entered the visitor room, the guard locked the door behind me, and I faced Jakob, who didn’t look happy.
“Hi, Jakob. Is there anything wrong?” I asked.
“I have been thinking about us, and our future?” Jakob mumbled while avoiding my eyes.
“I am listening,” I replied.
Jakob sat quietly and I reflected over the future I saw for myself and my husband. Before I murdered Patrick Bagosora, killing my nemesis had consumed my mind. The only future I had foreseen after finding out about my infertility was gloomy and full of death. Now that Patrick was dead, my prospects looked better, yet I hadn’t reflected over Jakob’s place in my life.
“You broke my trust,” Jakob mumbled.
“That’s a lie. I have been nothing but faithful to you. I doubt you can say the same.” I protested.
My statement silenced Jakob for a while. I knew that he didn’t mean sexual fidelity. It had been very easy for me to stay faithful to Jakob as I couldn’t have sex without experiencing excruciating pain. It had also been easy for me to look past Jakob’s homosexual encounters throughout the years. I couldn’t be jealous that he had sex with various men when sex itself was the last thing I wanted.
Jakob spoke again, “I didn’t mean that you were cheating on me. I am sorry if my homosexual flings hurt you.”
“I wasn’t hurt when you slept with others. As a matter of fact, I encouraged it.” I replied.
“In any case, this isn’t about sex. You broke my trust when you lied and murdered Patrick Bagosora behind my back.” Jakob stated.
“I never murdered Patrick, at least not according to the court,” I replied in defiance.
“That’s because I covered for you. I never told them about how you went with Patrick to his cabin on the day that he was poisoned. That was when you poisoned him, wasn’t it?” Jakob speculated.
I shook my head and replied. “No, I spiked the Margarita he drank while we were filming in the restaurant cart. I lured him back to his cabin to avoid having him die in front of everyone.”
Hearing this, Jakob slapped me. This shocked me more than any other things in my life. Jakob was weak and effeminate, so I had never anticipated that he would be violent against me.
I thought of punching him, but I refrained from doing so, and instead, I listened to his yappy rant. “You could have told me about your plans. That’s how you treat your husband who you have promised to love in thick or thin. Instead, you made me look like an accessory to murder. The cops locked me up for two months. Because of you, I lost my job and our house. I lost everything.” Jakob ranted.
I realised that Jakob was correct. I did mistreat him when I obsessed about my single-minded vengeance. For that, I was truly sorry. While I would never apologise for murdering Patrick Bagosora, I should have considered Jakob’s wellbeing when I planned the murder.
“I am sorry, Jakob. I don’t know what else to say or do?” I said while crying.
Jakob nodded and handed me some divorce papers. “Please sign this, Samantha. I don’t see any future for the two of us.”
“Or else what? You fucking coward. You waited for over a year to tell me that it was over between us!” I shouted.
Jakob took a few steps back and he said, “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Samantha.”
I grabbed the pen, signed the papers, and yelled. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
Without a word, Jakob grabbed the signed document and rushed away.
***
AS MY ANGER SUBSIDED, I felt guilty over how my interaction with Jakob had turned out. He had been loyal to me, and I had repaid his loyalty by harsh words and an angry outburst. I had to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t always the victim in life. I couldn’t treat Jakob like that, no matter what Patrick Bagosora, Phillipe, Mbwana Kapombe, and Pesa Nassoro had done to ruin my life. I tried writing a sincere apology letter to Jakob, but I got nowhere. Sorry did indeed seem to be the hardest word to say. At least for me.
I shrugged it off. Although I was a 37-year-old barren divorcee with severe physical and psychological ailments to boot, I still hold on to a slightly better future.
I promised myself that as soon as I had finished my book tour, I would return to Rwanda, buy myself a nice little hut, a little farm and a few live stocks, and live my life as if none of the bad things had ever happened. It was the only way forward. I couldn’t change what had happened to me, but I could certainly affect what would happen to me.
"The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall."
-Nelson Mandela