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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 />
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