This is a bit of a long read…but maybe this is how my book is meant to be written…in pieces, on my blog.
I do not believe that it’s fair for Meghan to be the only one allowed to use and discard people as she pleases. Someone has to use her too the way she has used others. I am not ashamed of this great honour, so yes, before you even accuse me, I stand on a mountain top claiming that I Mary-Tamar was Jean am currently using Meghan Markle as a stepping stone into my DESTINY. That is my birthright because I was born for such a time as this.
When a Vashiti falls, an Esther has to rise. There is no Vashiti without an Esther, and there is no Esther without a Vashiti.
Even my most beloved husband who believes that nothing new happens under the sun, has blessed me to write my way into my destiny for such a time as this. On Friday he presented me with the sweetest gift of a luxury notebook and golden pen, and inside was a well thought beautiful note which read…
So how can I not pen? How can I not seize this Esther moment when Vashiti is falling?
Hasn’t Meghan also used me as a British Citizen? Didn’t she use us all for her royal wedding? Was I not happy for her on the day, wishing her well, despite being heavily pregnant and homeless.
For me, in all her using of people and people’s situations, what has angered me the most is how she has USED the Royal Family, especially the Queen in such a merciless way, knowing her husband the Duke was terminally ill. The Queen bent over backwards to accomodate her, even though she was a woman with ISSUES. British royal traditions were broken for this woman, yet she chose to repay all the sacrifices which were made for her by tainting the legacy of the Queen by her malicious wicked LIES.
Meghan truly threw away her crown, for she has no idea how blessed she was to have in-laws like the royal family. Seven years ago, in my past marriage I would have given anything to have a mother-in-law like the Queen. Unlike Meghan, I never had the privilege to “call out” my in-laws like Meghan did on Oprah, in fact, when I tried to speak out against them, they were so shocked they called the police and ambulance to section me in front of the whole church.
In Zimbabwean culture, once a woman marries, she lives at the mercy of her in-laws, they can even beat her up and she has no right to complain or defend herself. That was my situation in my first marriage, I could never stand up and defend myself against my in-laws, culturally it would be a taboo.
So I even have a more valid reason to USE Meghan, because now I can tell my story, a story that always brings tears to my eyes each time I tell it. A story which Zimbabweans would mock me for each time I tried to tell it. For the first time in my life, people read my story and appreciate my pen. Meghan told Oprah how the FIRM was abusive to her, I am here with my new golden pen telling those who care to read, so they can judge between Meghan and I, and they will decide who was really a victim of monsters in-law.
My ex-husband had 4 sisters, and I lived in the same area with them. I went to the same church with them. I could never make friends, because each friend I made they would befriend, and turn them against me. Each Sunday I had to go to Church and sit by myself, and watch people give me dirty looks and talk about me. Unlike Meghan who had beautiful supportive in-laws who walked with her to Church, whilst being adored by millions of fans, I walked alone to church and sat alone in the very midst of my own husband’s family.
Unlike Meghan who can never name the names of her abusers, I had 4 sisters-in-laws, Lucy Musuka, Patience Musuka, Gertrude Musuka, and Patricia Musuka, four women who were in a clique and took pleasure in seeing me cry whilst abusing me in public, especially at church.
But in June 2013, after 12 a slave in this family, I couldn’t do it anymore. Church had become such a painful burden to me, I tried to quit, but my then husband would report me to the Prophet and the pastors, and they would physically restrain me and perform humiliating excruciating exorcisms whilst being forced to admit I was demon possessed. Each time I refused to be part of the church, as sometimes I would walk out, choosing to sit outside, but I would be dragged back into the church, locked in a back room and basically groped by various men in the name of exorcism as my own husband watched. I then accepted that I could not leave the Church, I had to stay. The only way to beat the situation was to fight my sisters-in-law back. Like Esther, I fasted, without food and drink for three days and three nights to gather the spiritual strength to stand up to my ex-sisters in law.
Then you have Meghan, who even has the honor to bully her own sister-in-law and her little daughter, yet in all her wickedness, it was her gracious sister-in-law who bought her flowers to say sorry. Meghan had the most perfect sister-in-law in Catherine, in Zimbabwean culture it is rare to have sisters-in-law who welcome you like that.
Anyway, back to my story, so after I broke my fast on the Sunday morning of 16 June 2013, yes I will always remember that date, I headed for Church alone by bus as my ex-husband and I were not talking because of his family. He drove the children to church whilst I took the bus. When Church was over, I went over to my in-laws, all of them and told them that the old Jean was gone, they were not to bully me or abuse me anymore especially in Church. I literally told them all, including his mother, to eff off, I didn’t hold back. His mother and sister Gertrude Musuka were so shocked they called 999, and asked for an ambulance to come and section me under the mental health act.
When my ex-husband realised that his family had called the ambulance on me, he started sprinting away from the church, literally running into the streets of Wigan. I started running after him, telling him to come back.
He was telling me to follow him, and not return to the church. In all fairness, as wicked as he was, he did try to stop me from going back to the Church because he knew how cruel his family had been to me. I thought he had gone mad as he was sprinting. I was like “Stop Shingi, where are you going?”
He stopped and turned, “Please Jean, all afternoon you have spoken out to my family, I didn’t stop you. But now please listen to me, don’t go back to church, just come with me, for now.” The wicked man who was my husband pleaded with me.
“But my children are there. I can’t just leave them. Kunashe will be looking for me. I have to go back…” I turned and started running back to the Church, as he stood there watching me, pleading with me not to go back.
As I arrived at the church, behold there was a scene. An ambulance was parked in front of the church and all the church members were outside. I thought something terrible had happened, I wondered who had been hurt. I thought of my children. As I arrived at the church, everyone was looking at me. I saw my ex-mother-in-law point at me and say, “There she is.”
A paramedic, a beautiful young white woman walked towards me, with confusion in her eyes, “Are you Jean?” She asked me.
“Yes I am. Is there a problem? What’s happened?” I asked panicking, thinking it was my child who had been hurt.
“Umm, your mother-in-law and your sister-in-law have called us, they are saying you are not yourself today and you need to be sectioned Jean.”
At this point I laughed, it was a laughter for utter shock at how ridiculous the situation was.
The paramedic quickly worked out the situation, and she smiled at me, feeling sorry for me.
“Do you know what Jean, you are so beautiful, you look like a model.” She said to me. I blushed, and said, “Thank you,” as I fixed my head scarf.
At realising that their plan was not going to work, as I had clearly found grace and favour in the eyes of the paramedic lady, my in-laws and the church members became so angry, as my ex-mother-in-law shouted, “She’s mad, section her!”
As most Zimbabweans in the UK are trained mental health nurses like myself, (Yes most Zimbabweans came to the UK to do nursing) so at that time, all the Zimbabwean nurses in the church actually formed an orderly queue to testify against me. The first was Yvonne Gayakaya who actually told the paramedic that I was indeed a mad woman who was pretending to be normal. She said she was a mental health nurse and had always dealt with patients like myself.
At this point I went into shock, and didn’t know what to do. I tried to find my children, as I couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t find my children, and my heart felt as though it was going to explode. I had never felt so scared all my life. I ran to one of the Church elders, Maxwell Nyakutya, who at that time was a UK registered sex offender, but because he was an elder of the Church I ran to him for help.
“They have called an ambulance on me, and they are all testifying against me outside, please help me, this is so wrong.” But Maxwell rebuked me, and shouted at me, and told me that he had no business getting involved with the domestic issues of the church.
I looked around, I wanted to burst out crying but I couldn’t afford to.
I ran back outside, worried about my children, scared that they were about to take me away.
“Jean, they are saying you don’t look after your children, that you don’t feed them and they are malnourished. These are very serious concerns and allegations. Do you want to come with me into the ambulance for a chat.” The woman looked so concerned.
“Okay.” That’s all I could say. I couldn’t cry because I had to be strong. But inside I was so scared, I didn’t know if I was going to be sectioned, or if I was about to lose my children. I needed my husband next to me, anyone really, anyone who cared, but there was no one, not one soul stood with me. My own husband had run away.
As I started walking towards the ambulance, my little baby girl Nakai, who was only 9 years old at that time, ran to me, and tried to grab my hand, and said, “Mummy!” I held out my hand to her, but another woman, Joy Maxwebo, a woman who hated me so much pulled my daughter away from me, as the whole church looked at me as the outcast of humanity. I am crying as I pen this, for it is a pain I will take to my grave. But it’s okay, sometimes it’s good to cry, it doesn’t mean you haven’t healed, it just means the scar will always be there. And sometimes when you look at the scar, the pain becomes so raw again.
I looked at my daughter, trying to reassure her with my eyes, that I will be okay, and she would be okay too.
Oh I have to pause. Maybe let me tell you about this past weekend. I celebrated my daughter’s 17th birthday. She is my best friend really, she has been there for me during the darkest moments of my life, on that lonely walk into the ambulance, she did try to to hold my hand and walk with me, but she couldn’t because she was stopped. For that moment, that day, I will always be indebted to my baby girl’s unconditional love for me.
Now back to my ambulance story, I will never forget that walk into the ambulance, I had never felt so betrayed, so alone, and so scared, but as I walked I had this overwhelming sense that I wasn’t walking alone, that God was with me, so each time I hear Celtic Woman’s You Will Never Walk Alone, I get moved to tears.
I walked that day so terrified, but I held my head up high, and smiled. I couldn’t cry because if I cried it would be used against me. I couldn’t get angry because if I did I would be sectioned. I had to be calm, collected and composed at the deadly trap that had been laid for me.
As I sat down in the ambulance, the paramedics took my observations, and they were alarmed at how high my pulse rate was because I had gone into shock.
The lovely paramedic was so moved by me, she was emotional on my behalf.
The other paramedic came into the ambulance, “They have called the police”, she said in utter disbelief, “They are threatening that if we don’t section her, they will get the police to arrest her.”
“And this is a Church?” The other paramedic marvelled.
“I will go and speak to the police. And we have to get your children away from those people. I would never trust any of them with my children if I were you Jean.” The lady said to me.
After a few minutes, my three children were brought into the ambulance. They were sat down and asked, “Does mummy look after you?”
“Who cooks food for you?” They were asked.
“Mummy does.” My children replied.
“Do you have food at home?”
“Yes, we have food.” My daughter answered.
“Does Mummy tidy and clean your bedrooms?”
My children nodded.
The paramedic sighed, looking at me. “Where is your husband Jean?” She asked me.
“He ran away from the church when he realised his family had called an ambulance on me.” I told her.
“Well I can’t release you and the children, until I hear from him. Does he have a phone?”
I gave her my then husband’s phone number and she called him. He picked the call, and the paramedic told him that she had his wife and children in an ambulance parked outside the church because his own mother and sister and the church members had testified that I needed sectioning and was not fit to be a mother. Then the COWARD had the audacity to decline to come and asked the paramedic to drive round the corner because he was too ashamed to come and join me in the ambulance as his family and church members watched.
“No we are not driving to meet you on the corner, you have to come here. Can you not understand the seriousness of this situation, I have your wife and…”
“Give me the phone.” I literally grabbed the phone from her. I put all my pain and anger on him as I hissed at him whilst roaring like a LIONESS, and for that moment I didn’t care that the paramedics where there.”
“Listen you IDIOT, your mother and sister have put me in this situation, with my children, telling the authorities that I do not feed or look after my children. If you do not get your stupid black backside into this ambulance right now, I swear you will regret the day you ever set eyes on me Shingai!” I cut the phone, and collected myself, and smiled. Then calmly handed the phone back to the paramedic.
She looked at me with a little smirk on her face, like she was enjoying the bit of drama, for that moment she enjoyed that fierce side of me. No one said a word as we all waited patiently for the shameless coward to turn up. Lo and behold, within minutes, the Zimbabwean fool entered the ambulance, his face was quite a picture I must say. The shame.
“Listen, you have to tell your family to stop. Even if your wife had mental health problems, this is not the way to behave. This is nothing more than a domestic dispute that shouldn’t involve the paramedics or the police. They have done this to humiliate your wife, and it’s wrong. She does not need sectioning.”
The coward was just nodding. Then he was asked a series of questions about me on my suitability as a mother and wife, and about the children’s welfare, and I was looking at him so angry, because I knew he so wanted to falsely testify against me, but he couldn’t. He was forced to say what a perfect wife and mother I was.
With that, the paramedics wished me well, and told me to go straight home, and advised me find another church to attend.
That is just part of my story, in the hands of people who were supposed to be my children’s blood relatives, my husband’s family.
So when I see Meghan branding the British Royal family as the worst in-laws on earth who apparently almost drove her to “suicide” as she claims, I know without a shadow of doubt that it is a lie from the pits of hell because all the royal family ever did was bend over backwards for her. In fact they rolled out the red carpet for her, walked on egg shells around her in fear of being labelled racists.
Well, the drama that Meghan brought on British Soil can’t be in vain, someone underprivileged had to use her too, and that someone happens to be me, I am her Karma…
So as long as my fingers can still write, and my new golden pen is uncapped, I will use Meghan Markle to tell my story….
The Genesis of The Revelation By
Mary-Tamar was Jean
One thought on “Why I Am USING Meghan Markle’s WICKEDNESS To PEN My Story”
I respect your right to write as you wish. Unfortunately I didn’t have time to read through…That said, your judgement on MM ( i think) is short sighted.
Also, I fail to see Samantha Markle’s credibility in all this as you seem to suggest. This is a woman (SM) who would do anytime to get a coin. She is not in talking terms with her own kids. Her kids and ex – husbandS have requested to give their account on TV and are ignored; simply because their experience of SM and Thomas Markle doesn’t support your narrative.
Thomas M isn’t talking to her grandkids, and yet he is worried about MM’s kids.
Above all, I respect your writing.