South Africa: Ingrid Buys

My name is Ingrid Buys, and I am 37 years old. I live in a small area called Touwsranten, situated 35 km outside of George.

I did my primary school years between Oakhurst and Touwsranten Primary. My primary years were not easy, as I had to walk far to school at first, and by my last two years I was in walking distance from my school. I attended my high school years at Parikdene Secondary. It was very exciting to be surrounded by so many new children at a big school. I could choose who my friends should be, or at least that’s what I thought.

My dream to become a journalist has been in my heart since primary school, so now in high school I was busy trying to get everyone to tell me their stories so I could investigate and write the story, but life has its own way of working things out. It so happens that I couldn’t be all that great; I couldn’t get all the friends I want; I didn’t fit in as I wish I could.

School was no longer an escape from house life, so now I have to find another mask (something to hide behind) to show the world I am the strong, independent girl I pretended to be.

After school I went to work, I CPT as an assistant; this was an opportunity of a lifetime, a way out of the chaos. Every day was a life-changing experience, even though the circumstances were not always the best. It was better than where I was coming from. I travelled; I experienced different cultures, languages, and new foods. Now I was living my best life. After 2 and ½ years things went sour, and I had to come back home. I was devastated. What were people going to say about my sudden return? My world came to an end, but I guess I have to start building again.

Now back home without my job, I suddenly became the problem child again. I quickly realize that you are only the best if you have something to give. Looking for a job here and there with no luck for a few months and then getting a job for 6 months, where I learned how the boss wants girls to sleep with him to get to the top. I planned my escape by saying I have a family member that died, left everything behind, and just ran.

Back home, the circumstances were the same problem: child problem, child problem. After a few weeks, my aunt got me a job at the local church just so I could stay close by.

Working at the church helped to get my self-confidence back. I can now provide for myself; I can go out with my friend and have a good time without feeling guilty. I met someone who I thought was nice and a gentleman treating me nice, protecting me by leaving me at his friend’s house to be safe while the boys hang out at the tavern. Little did I know it was just because he was hanging with other girls; by the time I find out what type of guy he is, boom, pregnant at 21. The disappointment in myself was so big I didn’t even want to say anything to anyone. How could this strong independent?

Woman becomes pregnant by someone who has no respect for woman, no respect for himself for that matter. I decided to tell him that I was pregnant; he’s words were thank you for a nice time, but we’re done. Shocked and shattered, I went into risk management mode. I had to fix my situation by creating a safe structure for me and my unborn baby. I will not let this get me down, or so I thought. Every day I walked in the street with my head up high hearing the whispers and rumors. Oh, he said it was not his child; he said they only slept together once; he said he never slept with her; he said he would never be with her. Every day of my pregnancy was a nightmare. At home, in the community, and at work, it just seemed like everyone was pushing me away. I decided I was going to be the best mother, protecting my child always and never letting anyone put us down.

Just as I got back on my feet after giving birth, my stepfather decided I was no longer welcome in our house, and my mother kicked me and my baby out. Cold winter nights are dark with nowhere to go. I decided I would never come back home. I moved in with people who were living in very poor circumstances, but I decided I would find myself and raise my child.

The first 2 years were tough; nobody to lend a hand, nobody to share your pain with, but you have to move. I found a better job, applied for a house, bought a car, and life was almost perfect. But with every new level, you will experience new demons. My son’s father started to bother me, telling lies to everyone that tries to befriend me, coming to my house to tell me he hates me and that he will never have a relationship with my son. Through all the emotional abuse, I decided to stand strong because I have a goal. During the day I was strong, but at night I would cry my heart out. All I know is hurt, pain, and disappointment. When will it stop?

My son grew up to be a fine young boy doing great with sport and sailing around the world; the whole of South Africa even went to China at a young age, but he always longs for his dad. After a while, I realized he was connecting with his dad because he became rude with me in the house and told stories about his dad telling him all kinds of stories. I had to get both of them together to sort all these stories out. Now 15 years old, we are still working on restoring our relationship and working through the disappointment of having all these issues and trauma. Even though my life has not been great, every day I take it as a blessing and a new opportunity to better my life and circumstances.
Thank you.