A story of a rape survivor, witness and survivor to domestic abuse, pill addict and depression victim.
My story much like others has remained untold for nearly 7 years but being raped not once but twice does something to you so it’s about time I spoke out.
As a child on primary school I never saw it difficult to make friends, I was friendly and would share my crayons with anyone who simply asked- so in layman’s terms I wasn’t always this raging bitch.
I came from what seemed like a good home, one with love and respect and as far as others were concerned I was experiencing no problems with my family, little did they know that at the age of 10 my older boy cousin had played the touching game with me. This was my first sexual experience however not the worst one yet.
By the time I turned 13 I had a group of friends who were known as the popular girls (A.K.A the Jintu squad) on school which meant that all the boys wanted us and we would have to act accordingly. Now what you must know is my mommy don’t play hey, she doesn’t have time for that ougat kak as she so once verbatim reminded me. Be that as it may I lied to my mommy every Friday when going out after school to sit on the electricity box with the boy’s-kak nervous because she might catch me.
At the end of my 7th year in school, days shy of New Year was the first time I got raped. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was at a party, intoxicated as ever and I knew that I would have a moerse headache the next day from all that Red Heart but you know what they say “Hoor is min”. At around 2am the party died down and it was time for us to go home but my vark legs didn’t work which led my group of ‘friends’ to leave me there. At a strangers house. In a strangers bed.
My story blurs from there however the last things I remembered was a guy walking into the room touching me and the next thing I knew he was on top of me. He whispered my name thrusted hard into me and left me bleeding and crying (in pain). After that a group of girls walked in and thinking I was sleeping proceeded to mock my lack of shaving skills and then left (Bear in mind that I don’t normally leave my bush long but I wasn’t prepared for anything to happen that night #Justsaying). A day forevermore etched in my memory.
Three weeks later I was knee deep in my first pregnancy scare, I pretended like the night never happened after telling my group of ‘friends’ who advised me to do so and me like a dom nai actually going along with their plan. After another couple of days and a whole bunch of promises to the man upstairs to stay celibate until marriage; Aunty Cheryl (my period) finally arrived. Dankie tog because adding a little germ to my 13 year old lifestyle seemed
a little so fucking daunting.
So I locked that night away in my memory, never confronted my rapist even though I knew who he was and pretended my life was peachy when it was the furthest thing from it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t lose a part of myself that night, not just my innocence but from that day forwards I would be different and I’d never go back to the way I was ever again.