He can?t hurt us anymore

I firmly believe that if I could survive two abusive relationships, anyone can. I have made peace with my abuser and have found the strength to overcome my experiences and to help other women in the situation I was in. My abusive past is not an excuse for me to sit back do nothing now that it’s over, but a reason to speak out and fight against gender violence.

 

Looking back I wonder how it was possible that I survived sexual molestation as a child, two attempted rapes when I was 16 and 29, and two violently abusive relationships. But I did survive, and today I speak about it and use my experiences to help women through my work as a counsellor and motivational speaker.

 

I had my first child, a beautiful boy, when I was 18. My child had kidney problems and needed dialysis. My husbands’ response was to “let nature take its course, I won’t sign for dialysis.” I could not believe him! This was our child. The verbal abuse was constant, even as my son’s condition worsened. But I stayed in the relationship. When we had our second child, a girl, he said he didn’t love me and wanted a divorce. I asked why he had wanted another child if this was what he was planning. I will never for get what he said: “God created soil for the seed to grow from and your vagina to throw in my sperms.” Was that all I ever was to him? A deposit for his sperm?

As the divorce process began he would take my daughter, who also had kidney problems, and I discovered later, sexually molested her. I was so afraid of him that I did not even report it to the police – I thought he would kill us all. At the time I thought that once the divorce went through, life would get better. Little did I know that it would get even worse.

 

The relationship with my boyfriend was good at first. I thought he understood the damage my husband did and that he would protect me. But the violence started again. He would insist on “inspecting” my vagina to check “if any man had been there”, and make me perform the most awful and degrading sexual acts while he recorded it on film. He would tell me that he would beat me until I had to go to the hospital – and did this on many occasions; often in front of the children.

 

I tried to get help from the police. Their response was the same every time: go home and sort your problems out with your boyfriend; it is a private family matter. How could it be a family matter when the neighbours would hear my screams and the doctors would attend to my injuries? It was not private at all!

 

My children and I left and went to an RDP house I secured. But it still wasn’t over. He would come every night; banging at the door with his gun shouting that if he had to knock three times he would come in and kill me. Without protection from the police I would open the door, and he would come in and rape me; many times in front of the children.

 

I was doing voluntary work at an NGO when one day I came home in the afternoon and turned the TV on. I won’t forget the words I heard on a talk show: “You have the choice to leave an abusive relationship.” In that moment, I realised that I had to leave; that I did not deserve this, despite what he would tell me all the time. That night I took my children – gave them each a blanket and a knife – and left. I told them that if anyone tried to stop us, we would use the knives to protect ourselves. “Don’t look back” I told them.

 

I left my children with relatives and moved to Hillbrow where I continued working at an NGO in Braamfontein. But I was still so afraid. I remember when I finally got the protection order; I was so scared to leave the court; I refused to step outside; because I thought he would be waiting outside to kill me. I had to be escorted home.

 

He would call and say: “you think you are hiding? But I am waiting for you; I am watching you and know exactly where you are. I can get you any time – you won’t know when or where.” I have never been so afraid in my life. I couldn’t stay in one place for a long time. I would spend hours in libraries, because I thought that it was unlikely that he would know where I was. No one knew where I was, not even my children, who I would arrange to meet in a public place, where I thought we would be safe. For many months I kept everything I needed in one bag, and wherever that bag was, was where I would be sleeping that night.

 

Eventually I guess he gave up. I last heard from him – still threatening to come and get me – a few years ago. My healing has begun. I still work at the same NGO and have regained my self-esteem. My children are doing well and are also healing. He can’t hurt us anymore.

 

*Not her real name.

 

This article is part of a special series of commentaries on the Sixteen Days of Activism Campaign produced through the Gender Links Opinion and Commentary Service that provides fresh views on everday news.