This archive report was first published on 30 June 2020.
Domestic Violence: A Mother's Tragic End ¶
June 30, 2020
My mother, Esther Winter, was a strong and beautiful woman, admired by all who knew her. But behind closed doors, she suffered years of abuse at the hands of my stepfather, Patrick Odhiambo Ndeda, a former director at KTN, Nation Media, Citizen TV, and Radio Africa.
Patrick, known to many as 'Pare' or 'Pare paga,' was charming and well-respected in our community. But his charming facade hid a dark reality of domestic violence and control. He would often promise to stop beating my mother, but he found ways to make sure I never found out or that family members were aware of her suffering.
He slowly reduced her friends, took away her phones, and painted a picture of her as an alcoholic. He would make her miserable, depress her to drunkenness, or simply do it. One of these actions led to her untimely death.
I remember running out of my room as a teenager, begging Patrick to stop hitting my mother. I remember her screams, 'Patrickkkkkkkkkkkkk, Patrickkkkkkkkkkk stoppppppppp.' These traumatic memories still haunt me today.
My mother's abuse was not just physical; it was also emotional and psychological. She was controlled, manipulated, and isolated. I grew up in a toxic home, and I thought it was normal. But it wasn't. It was a nightmare that I'm still learning to deal with.
Patrick's abuse was so severe that it left my mother with spiral fractures, orbital fractures, and strangle marks. He would make her drink to numb the pain, and then he would beat her up again. This cycle of abuse continued for years, until her untimely death.
On the day she died, Patrick woke up at 4:00 am, found her cold, and didn't call for help. He waited for our family to arrive before calling the police. This thought process still baffles me.
My mother's story is a tragic reminder of the devastating consequences of domestic violence. It's a reminder that abusers often have charming and well-respected personas, but behind closed doors, they are monsters.
As a daughter, I'm still trying to come to terms with what happened. I'm still trying to process the trauma and the pain. But I know that I'm not alone. There are many women and children who suffer in silence, afraid to speak out or seek help.
My mother's story is a call to action. It's a reminder that we need to speak out against domestic violence, to support survivors, and to hold abusers accountable. We need to create a society where women and children feel safe, loved, and respected.
Rest in peace, Mom. Your story will not be forgotten.
