SHARE:
I am writing the story of my life whereby when I was young I was raped by a man much older than me. It was at night and we had already gone to bed, he entered and took me, he undressed me, I cried but he told me to stop and I stopped crying. He put his private parts inside mine and at that time he caught me by the neck and made sure that I did not even cry while the people I was with were quiet. In the morning I told the elders because I was not at my home.
I was there because the owner of the house was not there. She asked me to go and sleep there for a night with her children. I explained what the person looked like and what he was wearing, but those that I told did not care. Then I went home where I told my mother, my mother was hurt and we returned to where I had been sleeping. My mother asked them and they took action then because of my mother’s presence. We went to see our chief who then instructed that we go to the hospital where the doctor said it was true that I had been raped.
We got the medical form and went with it to the police station; the rapist was caught but he was not arrested. I grew up very bitter but I managed to find a boyfriend who married me, I had a child with him and he started beating me up for no reason. When my husband beat me he would insult me together with my child. We lived like that with my baby until he died. He left me pregnant with our second child. I got sick and was admitted to the hospital twice. Life became more hectic as I was raising my two kids and my sister’s child as well.
It was not easy for me because I was self employed, sitting in the market place where I used to sell Lishoeshoe but most of the time I was in Gauteng. I put a person in charge of my money in Gauteng for when my debtors paid me, but when the people paid she ate my money and promised to pay which she did not. I then started selling brooms in Gauteng, because I had children to take care of so I had to find a way to put bread on the table.
I borrowed the money to buy the things that I need to start my business. I borrowed the money because the person who had used my money promised to pay me. When my father died I had to go to Gauteng to collect my money so that I could bury him. When I got there, the money was not there so I had to borrow the bus fare to return home. I cancelled my plans because I saw that this woman would not give me the money. I came home for good and decided to die near my family.
I came home with the intention of burying my father but when I got home I was very sick suffering from a headache, I was then hospitalised. Those who saw me when I was hospitalised said that it was as though I was mad. From the hospital I got a letter telling me to go to the police station, it was from one of the people whom I owed. I felt like I could die because even if he reported me to the police I had no money and it was of no use to him. Until now while am writing, the woman who owes me money has not paid me.
Living this kind of life is not easy at all; I eat from hand to mouth without intending to but because I have to. My children are suffering too much. I am still living the same kind of life because I have to make sure that my children go to school and one of them now is at home because of the school fees problem and I cannot borrow again. I have a bad record for not paying my debts.
*Not her real name
This story is part of the “I” Stories series produced by the Gender Links News Service encouraging the view that speaking out can set you free.
📝Read the emotional article by @nokwe_mnomiya, with a personal plea: 🇿🇦Breaking the cycle of violence!https://t.co/6kPcu2Whwm pic.twitter.com/d60tsBqJwx
— Gender Links (@GenderLinks) December 17, 2024
Comment on Lesotho: Life was not easy