EPISODE 37 Hatred is never healthy. Hating someone never helps. Whether you hate them or not, they will continue living, and succeed in life. In other words hating on someone never pays. You are actually damaging yourself. So, it is always best if you just stop hating and live your life your own way as anyone else. But I can’t do the same with this man. I am not even trying to stop hating him. Well you may consider me a hypocrite but I advice you not to hate on anyone. Maybe I will stop hating on this man one day. The man sitting with my brother is my father. Well I didn’t even feel the need to go and greet him. Sons always bond well with their fathers. No wonder my brother is even sitting with him. I wouldn’t even say a word to him even if mom asked me to talk to him. I mean for what? After so much cruelty he had imposed on us! No ways! I actually find it weird that my brother is even sitting next to him when he is the one suffered his brutality more than any of his children. My father was the right epitome of abusive parent. He used to beat mom so much that whenever I think of it I just cry. The poor woman couldn’t fight for herself, but my father would still beat her. For what? You may ask that question again. I also do not know. My mom didn’t have any clue as to why would he beat her. I remember one day, we were all at home except for him. It was in the evening and he had gone where only he knows. My mom was cooking food for supper. This is the time when we were using fire to cook with. So we were sitting around the fire and chatting. It was so nice and funny. While busy chatting, we heard the sound someone expelling mucus from the direction of the gate to my, then home. We knew very well it is my father because that is what he usually does when he is coming back home. Normally we would run to our separate rooms, me and my brother were still sharing a room since I was still young and my sister had her own room. But on this day mom said we shouldn’t go anywhere. And of course, supper will be ready in no time. We just remained around the fire. He got in and went into his room. He was tipsy. He then came back. “The food is about to be ready. You can join us around the fire” my mom said to my father. This would, in fact be great though - sitting around the fire as one solid family. But my father chose to scold her. “What are you discussing with your children? Is it about me? So you are now plotting against me?” He asked mom with his eyes burning with flames of anger. I really didn’t understand why he had to be angry. “But papa, why are you doing this to us?” I asked. While I was still expecting an answer from my father, “Terry keep quiet” my brother said to me. He and my sister were standing up, ready to run to their rooms. I remained seated. “You have now taught these children of yours not to respect me, haven’t you?” My father asked mom. “No papa, we are not disrespecting you but...” I guess I was now becoming more of a pest to him. He swiftly came to me and choked me. He lifted me up with one hand and threw me on to the ground forcefully. I struggled to cry. I could only grunt. My back was hurting and somehow my stomach started hurting. I couldn’t move. He came, “I want to kill this thing. I doubt this shit is even my child. My child wouldn’t disrespect me like this” he said while lifting his leg. This time he would strangle me with his foot. He put his foot on my throat. I struggled to breathe. I think I did fart. of course, I had to breathe backwardly. “Don’t kill my child satan!” Mom yelled from the background. She came and pushed him aside and only then could I breathe. He then started beating mom. He took one wood from the fire and beat her with it. He beat her until she bled. He then kicked the pots from the fire and we slept with empty stomach that night. I could cry after a few minutes and my brother came and carried me away. This is not the only incident. There are so many things he used to do. He would lock the room into which we put food and go away with the keys. He wakes up early in the morning and goes away until he will come back in the evening. Yet he expects food when he comes back. We have been beaten before. We suffered so much. Our, then neighbours had already known that in the evening it will be mom crying, if not mom is my brother or my sister. All of us! I was still young but I do remember most of the things he used to do to us. That brought a fervent hatred and a feeling of disgust when I think of my father. “I had had an operation. He tried to be a gentle man for two full months but he wouldn’t cease to hurl insults at me during that period. His urge to beat me wouldn’t desist to compel him to beat me. He eventually did beat me on the third month. I was not healed because it was deep. (She didn’t tell me what had happened to her). He was always seeking for an excuse to beat me. He did beat me so hard. He had these shoes that he used to kick me with them. He kicked me right at the area of an operation, and I passed out. I woke up at the hospital. They told me that I was in a coma for three days. I almost died my child. That man almost killed me. It was then that I decided to leave him” my mom said to me. I was just crying when she told me this. I do recall this story. I was not at home when it happened. I only got home to find my mom being admitted at the hospital. No one told me why until she did recently when we are staying in Makgaung. I swear it will be hard for me to forget this. He took another woman in just a month after mom had left him. From what I have been told, he is still staying with that woman. And they have two children. While sitting, Brandon wanted to go to the loo. He took some time and I started to be worried. When he came back, I realized that his facial expression has changed. I just decided to mind my own business. I didn’t ask what the problem was. The night vigil went on and on until it was 4am. It had to stop and some people went to their respective homes to prepare for the funeral. We also had to go and bath and put on another clothes. I took Brandon along again. On our way back home we passed Brian walking with my sister. Whatever, I didn’t even care. We arrived at home and I prepared water for Brandon and he took bath. I did the same afterwards. He put on his ravishing clothes as always. I put on my outfit and it was something past 5am when we finished. I don’t know about Brian, but I put his bag in sitting room before I and Brandon had to bath. Maybe he used my brother’s room. I noticed that my brother didn’t come back, and my mom too. We then left afterwards and the funeral had begun when we arrived at my aunt’s place. The programme went on until we had to head to the cemetery. I and Brandon stood among other people in the grave yard. The spot for family was filled and I wouldn’t go there and leave Brandon alone. He is not ‘family’ so I wouldn’t take him with me as well. I swear the look we got from girls irritated the hell out of me. They were actually looking at Brandon and I hated every moment of it. They looked at him with thirsty eyes. We were standing in front though. When they had to lower the coffin, I cried so much. I looked at my mom and she tried hard to hold it in but the moment I saw her releasing tears, I cried uncontrollably so. I realized that my sister is also sobbing. I felt an arm around my shoulders. This was Brandon’s arm. I told him not to try and hug me in front of people. An arm around my shoulder wouldn’t induce inquisitiveness from people around. This arm comforted me. He slightly brushed my back and patted me. He then left it hanging on my shoulders as my aunt was buried. We then left after everything was done. We got in any car, so long as it was heading back to my aunt’s place. So she is gone? I asked myself in disbelief. It is really hard for me to accept it. We arrived at my aunt’s place and we ate. Brandon had to go back to Turf. I and my sister walked him to the main road so he can catch a taxi. We talked along the way with my sister telling him how grateful my family is for his presence. It felt as if we are siblings because Brandon was also free to speak with my sister. The taxi came and Brandon hopped in. I went back with my sister. “What is it with Brian kanti?” my sister asked. “What do you mean Dolly?” I asked. “Actually it is you Terry. How dare you?” I swear my sister got me confused to the last degree!
Posted on: Mon, 05 Jan 2015 15:58:01 +0000
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