When Love Found A Broken Girl

Esther Mohamed's testimony

I was born into a world where love was present, but never close.

Where family existed, but affection lived far away.

Where rules were loud, but my heart was silent.

I am the second-born daughter among six children, yet for most of my childhood, I felt like I belonged to no one.

My mother left when I was young.

My father was a soldier — brave, but always gone.

And the women who raised us were present, but never truly warm.

I learned early that to survive, I had to stay quiet.

I had to be strong.

I had to hide everything I felt.

“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up.” — Psalm 27:10

But as a little girl, something inside me kept whispering,

“There is more for you… more love, more identity, more God.”

I didn’t know this was Jesus calling me long before I knew His name.

A Childhood of Silent Battles

Madrassa taught me discipline, but not identity.

I was told how to sit, how to behave, how not to play.

I became the girl who swallowed emotions and smiled through pain.

When my father remarried again in 2005, something in me broke quietly.

Another home.

Another woman.

Another reminder that children in polygamous homes often learn to share the one thing they crave most — love.

I was accepted into a national school in Kenya,

but because fees were unavailable and my father was absent,

I had to settle for a cheaper day school.

Inside, I kept asking myself,

“Why was I never chosen?

Why was I never enough?”

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted.” — Psalm 34:18

Rebellion became my cry for love —

a cry that no one around me ever heard.

Then Darkness Tried to Claim Me

Years later, I entered a house filled with witchcraft.

A place where fear lived in the walls.

A place where I was locked inside — two long years without stepping outside.

Two years of silence.

Two years of spiritual battles.

Two years of losing myself piece by piece.

But here is where my story turns:

The devil thought he had imprisoned me… but he accidentally pushed me into the arms of God.

The Bible That Saved My Life

Someone had gifted me a Bible.

At first it was just there, untouched, like a decoration.

But slowly, it started calling me.

Like a heartbeat.

Like a whisper: “Open me.”

And every time I opened it,

the Holy Spirit — my Friend, my Comforter — whispered chapters to read.

I didn’t know His voice yet,

but He knew mine.

He knew my pain.

He knew my fear.

He knew the darkness around me.

And every time I obeyed and read what He guided me to,

I began coughing violently — releasing things I didn’t understand.

That was not sickness.

It was deliverance.

In a house meant to destroy me,

Jesus Himself walked in,

broke chains,

and called me His own.

“He sent His word and healed them, and delivered them…” — Psalm 107:20

The Holy Spirit… My Friend

From that moment, the Holy Spirit became the closest Friend I’ve ever known.

He sat with me in the lonely rooms.

He healed wounds I didn’t even know how to name.

He replaced fear with peace.

He rebuilt the little girl who never felt seen.

Every day, even now,

I walk with Him.

I talk to Him.

I lean on Him.

I cry to Him.

I am healed by Him.

And with every experience,

every lesson,

every tear,

I get closer to Him.

“The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” — Romans 8:16

The Woman I Am Today

I am not the broken girl who grew up in silence.

I am not the child overlooked.

I am not the young woman swallowed by witchcraft.

I am a daughter of God.

I am chosen.

I am seen.

I am healed from the inside out.

I am filled with light.

The Holy Spirit is my Healer.

The Holy Spirit is my Friend.

The Holy Spirit is the reason I am alive today.

“If the Son sets you free, you shall be free indeed.” — John 8:36

This was not just a command—

it was the final cry of His heart.

 Esther Mohammed sharing her testimony at the Encounter Murang'a Prayer Meeting.