A friend of mine sent me this story through what’s app. He’s a survivor of Child Abuse.
His step mom used to find any excuse to beat the shit out of him.
Now he’s on medication for PTSD, Bipolar and ADHD. Every day is a struggle and he calls me when his panic attacks are to much to handle.
“So we fake being adults , and we end up crushed by it. I’m a kid, coming from school dragging my feet so that i don’t get home too early, to reduce the hours she’ll beat us. As soon as we get to the house and she opens the door we have already begun crying in advance, she puts tea on the table and sits there on the couch facing us. She’s on the phone. As soon are the tea is finished and we take cups to the kitchen we are already waiting to hear her call one two or all of us, according to the list of crimes she memorized. I’m always on the list for bed wetting, my sisters might get a break. I/we walk up to her she starts very politely
Her: Jana ulikataa kufagia nyuma ya sofa set. Ebu vuruta uone ile uchafu iko hapo, haya ukakojoa kwa kitanda, na jana nilikuita mara tatu haukukuja, alafu ile surali ulokojolea uliachia nani afue? Sawa.. ulikojoa ama na danganya
Me: Nilikua nimesahau kuamka kuenda kwa toilet. ++ The rest
Her: kwahivo ulikojoa?
Me: ah ah, mami, siku kojoa
Her: Unasema nina danganya, ebu enda uangalie io matress, mpaka nyumba nzima inanuka… Unafanya nini uko? Ebu rudi apa, sijamalizana na wewe
Returning scared to death
Me: Mami nisamehe, sikukua najua
Her: ati nini, kwani wewe ni mwadawazimu unakojoa bila kujua
Me: ah ah
Her: kwa nivo ni makosa
Me: ah ah please nisamehe.
Her: jana nikikuchapa ulisema nini?
Me: nilisema sitawa kukojoa
Her: Haya ende ulete viboko tatu. Naukileta ndogo ntakuchapa nazo alafu uende zingine.
shaking all over carrying two thick sticks
Me: mami nisameha..
Her: ooh, unajaribu kujificha bedroom ebu kuja ama utajua mimi ni shetani,
Me: Naskia kukojoa acha niende toilet
Her: Kwani umemea huko kuja hapa sai ama nitakuja huko
Me: nakuja…mami nisamehe
Slowly approaching her Her: Haya nipee hizo viboko
Me: Mami nisamehe!
Tears already trickling
Her:Unalia ya nini? Na bado.
She stands up, bigger than i can manage to run away from. The entrance door is locked anyway. I put my hands up as a shield yelling “nisamehe mami please
The cane strikes me dozens of time, i curl trying to withstand the pain. My whole body throbbing. I turn around the other side takes it. This whole time I’m screaming. She threatens
I tell her nime acha
I get breaks when her arm gets tired. The she starts interrogating me in the mean time 2 hour might pass. To show u how painful it is, the thick sticks break into several small one. On flesh and bone of a 7+ year old kid. I can’t sit properly because i have sores all over. School I’m still panicking because i wet the bed again.. i tried to dry it with the ironing machine but it made things worse because it caught a brown stain. I can’t concentrate both because of the sores and because of extreme fear. It goes on for years. Teen hood till i turned 16 but she would give me a hot slap across my face. I was full of anger. It punch the wall till my knuckles her. I wanted to beat the crap out of her. It stuck on my mind the way I’d make her scream pole. But there’s a time she said she’d call the cops on me. I was afraid of jail, it had the same properties of the home i grew up. In school when someone did something bad to me I’d return the favour in my mind strategizing, but mostly it involved a fantasy of power over that person. Being able to get my revenge. It turned me into someone with anger, loss of control of emotions, depressed, vulnerable to peer pressure and users. Because i believed I don’t know anything, and I’m stupid, worthless, unloved, alone forever. Nobody i tucked all that in because no one ever sympathized, understood, accepted me, as i was. I had to be one of them. I was scared of being alone. The darkness haunted me. I was always the devil might show up. I tried so hard, i hurt so bad. To be honest I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what is adopted in order to fit in.. I am more in control, but I just want to feel like someone knows just how destroyed i was. I’m more confident that I am not doom, God showed up when I hated Him, somehow worst case scenarios never came since late teens hood when, catastrophes came close to happen, at least no I accept he’s there.”