the sacrificial lamb

Arranged marriages were common in the small religious sect Azaria was born into, but she was shocked when her family introduced her to a charismatic black African student and encouraged marriage between them.

"Choma was a delightful young man," explains Azaria, "but I just wasn't attracted to him in the slightest and I couldn't believe that my family would make me a sacrificial lamb in such a union."

"They assured me that being Choma's wife would bring blessings upon me and I should not be afraid of his color," sighs Azaria, "but it wasn't so much his color that frightened me but his face - he was ugly! He had the thickest lips, the biggest teeth and the smallest eyes I had ever seen in a face before. Quite grotesque."

"Choma was terribly apologetic when we discussed the matter," explains Azaria, "and he agreed that such a proposal was inappropriate."

"He told me not to worry, that he will sort everything out, and in the meantime we would remain good friends."

"I was only 17 at the time and not too smart," sighs Azaria, "so I didn't understand that I was being manipulated. I was so relieved when Choma told me he was against the marriage that I believed I was safe."

"The matter of marriage was never raised at home any more," says Azaria, "and I continued with my studies totally oblivious of what was going on behind my back."

"Choma was a leading light in my sect so I naturally saw him at church," explains Azaria, "and it was natural, too, that my family would invite him home for dinner."

"After dinner, Choma would instruct us, and then I'd sit outside with him for a while for personal instruction."

"I was naturally curious about where he came from and his different customs," says Azaria, "and often the instruction would turn into a chat about his life and family in Africa."

"I was warming to Choma - as everyone did - as a decent human being," says Azaria, "but there was absolutely nothing romantic between us and it was understood that there never will be."

"At that time I was attracted to a boy my own age in church - but I never said anything to my family," says Azaria. "I just hoped that the boy would make his intentions clear and a marriage would be arranged for us."

"Eventually, the boy's family did approach my parents but they turned him down as a husband for me - saying he wasn't yet ready for marriage," sighs Azaria, "and I just bided my time, expecting that he and I will marry some day."

"I went away to college for two years - and Choma went back to Africa," says Azaria, "and shortly after I graduated and returned home there was some political strife in Choma's country and he suddenly appeared on the scene again."

"He was collecting money to help his country and apparently got into trouble with the authorities here and his visa was at risk or something," explains Azaria, "and suddenly I came under a lot of pressure to marry him and enable him to gain citizenship."

"There was no overt pressure," explains Azaria. "There was just an awful lot of serious discussions about Choma's plight going on in church at at home. Everyone was feeling sorry for Choma and talking about all the terrible things that would happen to him if he were deported."

"Choma was actually fomenting all this worried talk," sighs Azaria. "Looking back, I realize he was exaggerating the situation back home - nobody was being hacked to pieces - but at that time he was definitely at risk of deportation."

"One night, when we sat on the porch, Choma started crying, saying he was scared to go home and didn't want to die," says Azaria, "and I felt so sorry for him that I actually offered to help him by going through a marriage ceremony with him."

"Choma was overjoyed and cried even more," relates Azaria, "and my parents came out and hugged us both saying how happy they were, how the union had been ordained by God from the start and how they knew it would happen one day - all we needed was time to get to know each other."

"The next day I spoke to the boy I had wanted to marry and explained that my marriage to Choma was going to be a marriage based on friendship - nothing more - and he understood that I had to do what I felt was right," says Azaria. "He had tears in his eyes, and so did I, but we both knew that some things are bigger than mundane love between a man and a woman - and Choma had to be helped at all costs. It was God's will that I step up and help him."

"The ceremony was performed very quickly and the first shock to my system came when Choma took me back to his house," sighs Azaria. "This dear, sweet, gentle man turned into a brute and raped me - saying I was his wife now and under God's law my body was his to do with as God decreed."

"The second shock to my system was when the Federal Police arrived and carted me off," says Azaria. "They humiliated me beyond measure by the awful things they told me about Choma and his country. They assumed I was a prostitute and asked me how much Choma had paid me to marry him. I sat there in pain from the rape and in shock from the interrogation."

"All the terrible things that I had supposedly spared Choma from were now happening to me," sighs Azaria. "The Federal Police had come for me, not Choma, and it was my body, not Choma's, that was cut to pieces."

"The third shock to my system came a few weeks' later when I realized I was pregnant." sighs Azaria. "And the final shock came when Choma accused me of sleeping with another man. He refused to believe the baby was his."

"In this terrible situation I withdrew into my shell, refusing to speak to anyone," explains Azaria. "In my misery I accepted that God must have indeed intended me as a sacrificial lamb. I blamed nobody but myself, for I had proposed marriage."

"Choma was rough and unkind to me throughout the pregnancy," says Azaria, "and he only became human again when our daughter was born. She was almost as black as he was, but thankfully she didn't have his grotesque features."

"He apologized profusely for all the terrible things he had accused me of and begged me to forgive him," says Azaria, "but by then I was dead inside. I had scant feeling for him or the child conceived in rape and carried in so much pain. No love, no hate, just a basic determination that somehow I would survive and one day get away from this ugly, brutal man."

"As it turned out, I didn't have to wait too long," adds Azaria. "Choma accepted that I was repulsed by him and within a year he left me for a woman of his own race."

"I was left to raise his child on my own - with my parents' help," explains Azaria. "They were shocked that Choma walked out on us and nobody mentions his name any more - but one day my little girl is going to grow up and start asking awkward questions about her father and I'm not sure what I should tell her."

"Do I spare her feelings and tell her lies about what a wonderful man her father is, or do I tell her the brutal truth?"