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A life of Mistakes

By Faeza
01 July 2016

I recently buried my husband after he committed suicide by overdosing on pills. I find myself looking in the mirror, wondering how one person can make so many mistakes in a lifetime. It started when I was a teenager and I was rebellious. When I was 17 years old,

I fell pregnant.


I fell in love with a bad boy named Xolani* from school. I knew he was

bad news. I couldn’t help but look for his softer side. We started fooling around and in

no time, we were both in love and I was pregnant and in Grade 11.

At 18 years old, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Four years later, I ended the relationship with Xolani. I managed to finish my matric and went on to university to study

mechanical engineering.

I later met and fell in love with Luvuyo* in May 2009. Again, a bad boy who was popular for illegal dealings. But nine months into our relationship I found out that he was in a serious relationship with another woman all along and the girlfriend had just had a baby when I found out. I was devastated.

As I was trying to glue together whatever pieces were left of my life, his girlfriend called and told me that she tested HIV positive. A month later I gathered the courage to get tested, and I did. It was a relief to find out that I was HIV negative.


On my son’s 7th birthday, I met my late husband, Sam* who was also popular for illegal dealings. I took a friend of mine to a party he invited me to on our first date.

It turns out that Sam believed that if he took you out and bought you expensive drinks, you had to return the favour with sex. I wasn’t having it, and he raped me.

I didn’t lay any charges against him because I blamed myself. It turned out he was on drugs and I told myself that I would never speak to him again, but I found myself believing

his apologies. Sam took care of me and became my chauffeur taking me to work and

back daily and so our relationship began to blossom. Three months later, I was pregnant

with my second child. I fell in love with my rapist who later became my husband.


In 2013, I found out that Sam was cheating on me with different women, so I made him test for HIV. We went together. I tested negative and he tested positive.

I decided to stay with him despite the results because I loved him.

He proposed in March 2015 and I said yes. Eleven months into our

marriage, I wanted a divorce due to the misery I was experiencing. About

10 days after I had left, Sam died. It’s been a month since his death and I’m still struggling to come to terms with whom or what he was. He nearly destroyed my life and

yet I still feel sorry for him most of the time.

*Not their real names