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Why judge Carol Mwatha? I have done 4 abortions & I’m not ashamed [Part 1]

After 4 abortions I'm still alive. It's a game of chance. Why Judge Carol Mwatha?

Unsafe abortions are very rampnat in Kenya

Last night, as I was going to bed the news of Activist Caroline Mwatha's abortion hit the airwaves. I watched the Pathologist explain how the botched abortion left her dead with a foetus in her womb, I couldn't help flinch and think of my own experiences at the abortion clinic.

Yes, I have had four abortions in a span of three years. I would like to say I was young and naive but honestly, after the first time, I knew this is something I would do again if I ever got pregnant. To the younger version of me, abortions are a permanent solution to a long-term problem called raising children.

I got pregnant the first time when I was in second year at the Multi Media University. The guy I was dating was a rugby player by profession and worked for a startup IT company. He was doing well for himself and I was attracted to that. I am one of those few young women in their 20s who is attracted to go-getters.


I woke up one day in March and realized my periods were late. My roommate was my closest confidant and so I told her that I suspected I was pregnant. She smiled and asked me if I was off my contraceptive (I'm not one to gamble with life, so of course, I was on contraceptives) and as I calculated when was the last time I had visited the school's gynaecologist I realized that things might be thick.

I did a pregnancy Test

"I need to know today if I am pregnant because I can't sit for my exams while I'm in this state," I told my roommate.

It was cold outside, I jumped out of bed and rushed to the chemist and bought a human chorionic gonadotropin (hCG) urine test and as you guessed I was pregnant. Saying that I wasn't shocked would be telling a lie. My mind was working like it was on steroids.

"What would I tell my parents, who were working hard to put me through University?"


All these questions flooded my mind, but one thing I did not do was cry. My mother did not raise a punk. Crying is a sign of defeat and as long as I'm breathing I will handle this situation, fast. At least that's what I told myself without knowing what lay ahead was three more abortions and a broken woman in her early 20s.

I informed Peter that i was pregnant

Back in my room, my housemate came back from her classes. I told her that the results were positive and she advised me to inform the man. I was hesitant at first but I reasoned that this man was part of the foetus and he deserved to be made aware of the developments.

That was a grave mistake that I will never ever do again in my life.

Let's call him Peter. He out rightly told me he was not going to get involved and I was free to do as I pleased. My young self was broke so I asked him for money for the planned abortion and the son of a gun did not give me a penny. So guess what I did? I got a doctor in training to help me perform the abortion. He purchased some pills for me which I inserted in my vagina and went into labour a few hours later.


Oh! Before we get to how the abortion went let me tell you how Peter and his friends pilled pressure on me. He sent women and men after me. The girls who date rugby players endure a lot of bulls***. His friends mocked me. Called me to tell me how much of harlot I was. A lot of what they said to me is unprintable, to be honest.

I remember one rainy night a lady who I thought was a friend lured me out of bed and into the waiting arms of a monster (a friend of Peter) who was waiting outside my flat to ask me if I had gotten rid of my pregnancy. The audacity of these men. Back then I was not a confrontational person and honestly, the fight would be like a Chihuahua fighting a pitbull. What are the odds?

So, I got the pills from my doctor friend and did as he had instructed. Goodness! That was a painful night. I was bleeding but nothing had come out yet. I was changing pads every now and then. I was weak. My head was light. Honestly, I thought this was the end of me.

The end of my crime and my young, promising life.


God had other plans, that's what I like to think nowadays. However, as dawn approached, large lumps started falling out of my vagina.

Note: The Narrator of the story has requested anonymity


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