“A few years ago, I met a Brazilian girl. She worked for one of the embassies in Nairobi at the time. We fell in love and agreed to get married. She introduced me to her family in Brazil through Skype. However, as we started getting closer to the day of the wedding, I started having second thoughts and suggested we delay it.
I was a student at the time and had no stable income, and I didn’t want to fall short on my responsibilities. She felt heartbroken, but in the end, we agreed to delay it for six months. My financial situation didn’t improve and the prospect of us getting married anytime soon was slowly becoming unlikely.
Six months turned into a year.
Suddenly, she stopped communicating. Her phone was switched off, her Facebook account was disabled, and she stopped replying to my emails. I still had her passport, her letters and other things that belonged to her at my house. After a week of not hearing from her, I went to her embassy and asked one of her friends, that she introduced me a while back, her whereabouts. The security guard at the embassy told me in the end that she refused to speak to me.
I never felt this distraught, it was hell.
She was on my mind all the time. I returned to the embassy after a month to try my luck again. I was simply told that the girl I loved resigned from her job a while back and moved back to Brazil. For a long time, I was making the arraignments to locate her, and after a while, I got my ticket and travelled to Rio de Janeiro. I had in my hands an old letter I found from her belongings that had an address on it. It was a letter from her mother. I grabbed a taxi who brought me to the address on the letter. I told him to wait for me as I was unfamiliar with the place. I knocked on the door, and her mother opened the door. She was shocked, as if she saw a ghost, and instantly slammed the door in my face. After a few minutes, she opened the door again, and I could see that she was unable to keep back her tears. She asked me in a broken English, ‘what do you want?’ I asked her that I want to see her daughter. She went back to the living room and brought me a letter that had another address on it and closed the door on me without saying anything else.
I asked the taxi driver if he could take me to the address that her mother gave me. After driving for a while, he brought me to a place whose sight left me completely in shock. I got out of the taxi and stood there. I could barely move from the abrupt grief that visited me.
The address on the letter was a cemetery.
The taxi driver went inside, located a grave and shouted for me to come in. I went to him and saw my fiance’s name on a headstone. She committed suicide. Until now, I am still haunted by her death and questions still race through my mind: ‘what if it was my fault, what if I didn’t delay the marriage? Or was there something going on that I didn’t know about?’”
(Nairobi, Kenya)
http://www.somalifaces.org/post/157858269782/a-few-years-ago-i-met-a-brazilian-girl-she
