His eyes were filled with hate, anger, and
depression. His heart was in agony. I tried walking away but my feet were stiff
and my heart jumped out of my chest. But
I really managed to catch it, even though it was bouncing up and down on the
floor. I took it back and told it to be
patient. He took two steps closer to me. Then I took three steps away from him. My heart lost patience again but this time
around it stayed calm.
“Come close!” he whispered.
Tears were on my cheeks and my body was so
stiff. Although I tried keeping my eyes
dry, I could not. Then he hit me. He hit me so hard that I cried louder than
before. But that’s just what he
wanted. He wanted me to scream louder
than my mother. I remembered all those
painful days when my Dad would chase me to my room. I could not refuse, because I knew what I
would get in return. From my room I
could hear my mother screaming her lungs out.
I could not help her because I was a scared little girl. I wanted to embrace her so close and never
let her go.
“Sandile, my girl, I
just want a better future for you, my angel,” she would answer back with a
sorrowfully sad voice.
"But mommy," I would cry.
"Ssshhss! My little flower, Everything will be alright," she would answer back with a sorrowful voice.
She would sing a lullaby every night to me so
that I could go to sleep:
“Hush little angel, don’t you cry. Everything is gonna be alright."
I still hear her sing every time he beats me
up.
“Shut up,” he would shout. “Get
out of my sight, stupid little rat.”
I would stay for days in my room, starving
almost to death, no water or food. And
then I would ask myself: “Was life really meant for me?” -- until my mother gave me the strength I
never knew I had. I swallowed my
emotions and pains and stood up to my abusive, animal of a Father.
“Sandile,
come here,” he shouted.
I just kept quiet.
“I
said come here or else . . .”, he shouted.
“Or
else what?” I said to him as I stood my ground. “Are
you going to kill me and chop me into pieces, and throw my body into the sea
and deny everything just like you did to my mother’s corpse? You are nothing but a coward and guess what,
I’m not scared of you anymore!!”
“Maybe
you are right. I am a big fat loser and
a coward,” he said.
He took a knife – closing it in on
me. He was prepared to kill me. He shoved it deep within my chest – straight
to my heart. I might have died, but I
died a proud death. I stood up to a
bully even though it was too late. I
stood for what I believed in. It is
never too late to stop violence, war, and poverty.
I died proud!
__________
Ms. Sandile Tshuma is a student at the Africa House College located in Gauteng Province in Johannesburg, South Africa. Ms. Tshuma is a participant in the South Africa International Men's Day "Teach Us Peace" Children's Literacy Initiative.
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