Kimya Kilichoua Mapenzi: When Silence Nearly Ended Our Marriage
My name is Esther, and silence almost destroyed my home. My husband and I lived together in Nakuru, yet days would pass without meaningful conversation. There was no shouting, no violence—just emotional emptiness. He buried himself in work; I buried myself in resentment.
Eventually, we stopped trying. Nights were cold. Meals were mechanical. Our children felt the tension even when we pretended everything was fine. One day, he suggested separation. That word hit me harder than betrayal ever could.
We sought help from a doctor after relatives encouraged us not to give up. The sessions forced honesty we had avoided for years. We participated in symbolic cleansing and guided dialogue where we were not allowed to interrupt each other. For the first time, I heard his loneliness. He heard my exhaustion.
Healing was not instant. It required humility and intentional change. We began rebuilding slowly—weekly check-ins, shared responsibilities, intentional affection. Months later, laughter returned to our home.
Silence almost buried our love—but vulnerability revived it.
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