- Looking back at the past five years, I can only say I have survived by the grace of God.
- Although it was easy to assume that he jumped into the Indian Ocean, it hasn’t been as easy to let the memories of the promising marriage we had go.
- Where did you go, darling? What happened to you?
Sarah Muthoni’s husband, Peter, disappeared in 2012 and has never surfaced. She has lived in alternate hope and despair since then. She tells Simon Mburu her story.
“My name is Sarah Muthoni. I am in my late 30s and a mother of one. This is my fifth year as a presumed widow. I say ‘presumed’ because my husband has been missing over this time, and presumed dead.
“I still remember the way it all began vividly. Peter and I got married in a customary ceremony on Saturday, April 24, 2004. I had no doubt that getting married to Peter was the best decision of my life. He was a handsome young man, and an engineer and entrepreneur, and studying for his Master’s degree at the Nelson Mandela University in South Africa.
“In July 2009, we were blessed with a son. Our future could only get brighter. Although we had our ups and downs, I was content. Things, however, took a turn for the worse in early 2011. My husband’s skin started turning pale. At first, we didn’t think it was anything serious. But as the paleness began to spread, we began to fear that it was hepatitis. A few months down the line, the paleness had spread and the flakes on his skin now looked like scales. He also had pallor in the linings of his eyes, inside of his mouth and even on the surface of his tongue.
“We went to Kenyatta National Hospital from where we referred to Nairobi Hospital. The doctor who attended to him at Nairobi Hospital referred him to a specialist at the Aga Khan Hospital. He underwent MRI scans that were unable to show a diagnosis. All these referrals drained our resources and although we were ready to go to any lengths to get a diagnosis and treatment, my husband began to give up. It did not help when a doctor asked him to go home and get prayed for!
“Following his prolonged sickness, my husband turned bitter with his life. He couldn’t seem to see a reason for living. On his worst days, he’d swear that we would never bury him because he’d commit suicide by drowning himself in the Indian Ocean.