Chapter 14: A Daily Routine of Pain
Every day in Mary's life followed a strict, punishing rhythm. There were no breaks. No moments to breathe. No one to say, "You've done enough."
Her alarm clock was the harsh voice of her aunt before dawn. By the time the roosters crowed, Mary had already swept the compound, cleaned the sitting room, washed the dishes from the night before, and set the firewood to start preparing breakfast—for everyone but herself.
Her body moved on memory and exhaustion.
After rushing to school on an empty stomach, she'd return home before others, only to begin a second round of labor. She fetched water from the stream—balancing heavy buckets on her head. Then came the market errands, helping to sell food at a roadside stall under the scorching sun. She stood there for hours, calling out to passersby, her voice hoarse, her legs aching, but never allowed to rest.
If she came home with fewer sales than expected, her aunt accused her of laziness or stealing. If she stayed too long at school, her aunt would shout, "You're pretending to be a student, but what will books do for a girl like you?"
There was no rest—not even at night.
Mary would finish the dishes in darkness, sweep the kitchen again, and sometimes handwash clothes long after others had gone to bed. Her fingers stayed sore and wrinkled. Her feet cracked. Her back throbbed. But there was no sympathy.
Even her sleep wasn't her own. Her small corner on the cold kitchen floor was interrupted by the buzz of mosquitoes, hunger pains, or her aunt's early morning footsteps, kicking her awake.
This was the routine. A cruel cycle. A life designed not to grow in—but to endure.
Yet somehow, Mary never stopped hoping.
She would hum quietly while she scrubbed. She memorized school lessons while walking to the stream. And at night, though her body screamed for rest, her mind whispered dreams of a different life.
Because in the heart of her pain, she had found something powerful: endurance that refused to quit, and a quiet faith that one day, she would rise.