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I neither had the papers no the experience. Up until that time, I<br />

believed in a higher power. I was neither a born again Christian<br />

nor a spiritual person, but I believed there was a higher power<br />

working behind the scenes to help me. The fact that our<br />

troubled marriage had survived the hatred was the first miracle.<br />

The way God kept Justine, Patrick and I at King Faisal Hospital<br />

out in the cold was a miracle. Claudia grudgingly offering me the<br />

10,000 francs was more than a miracle. And now, here was the<br />

benevolent God again working behind the scenes to help me.<br />

Nowhere in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine myself<br />

working in the United Nations. It was a miracle. In one day, I<br />

came from having one pan and two cups to earning a salary in<br />

dollars. My first salary was $350. I did not know what to do with<br />

my first salary because I literally had nothing. But as it were, my<br />

happiness<br />

was always short-lived. It always felt like I had been born for<br />

misfortune. Even with this wonderful job, I was sad because my<br />

husband had been jobless pretty much since he had left<br />

university in France. First, this made him sad and depressed.<br />

Secondly, it meant that I was the sole financial provider for my<br />

family. When I was three or so months old into my new job at<br />

the UN, Patrick was arrested and imprisoned. He was suspected<br />

to have colluded with a friend who was now in prison, after<br />

being found in possession of the car the said friend had lent him.<br />

The season of Patrick’s imprisonment was another tough turn in<br />

my life. The loneliness was excruciating. I was at home alone<br />

with my daughter. Neighbors and passers-by only pointed<br />

fingers at me, no one ever visited me. Even at my place of work<br />

where there were people from many nationalities, no one liked<br />

me. The UN had a bus that would rotate picking up employees<br />

and dropping us at office. Not even on the UN bus did anyone<br />

ever strike a conversation with me. I was always lonely. My<br />

bosses were French, and it is only with them that I worked<br />

harmoniously; none among the locals ever paid me any<br />

attention. I had to painfully endure a life of stigma and<br />

loneliness. Soon after that my father-in-law returned to his<br />

48

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