Taking back my life

The violence started slowly, escalating over time. First he started breaking plates, kicking doors and once smashed my cell phone on suspicion that I was talking to a boyfriend. Then he broke a window and threw a stone at me, all the time swearing at me. I believed him when he said he would stop. The last straw was when he punched me; I remember the red blood on the front of my t-shirt. I was scared. This time, I couldn’t be convinced otherwise; I laid a charge of assault with intent to do grievous bodily harm at the police station.

 

We met in 1994; four years later we got married. He was kind, caring and most important, loved my two children whose father had passed away. It felt like God was paying me for the loss of taking the man I loved. This man, my husband was my friend, he shared my joy, pain and we dreamt together. All was good and I loved him.

 

But things changed in 2000, when he started sleeping out. But I made excuses for him even before he told me where he was. He was the breadwinner in our home and provided for us. How could I complain when he did all of this? Surely his staying out late and not coming back home was not that serious? I told myself “men do that”. Every time he cheated on me, he would come back, confess and beg my forgiveness. I forgave him every time.

 

But things only got worse. In 2002 he left work. He never told me why. He started drinking heavily and complained about everything: the food, my friends; everything that I did seemed as if it was wrong. Although he started working again as a medical aid consultant, he complained when he was supposed to buy food or gave me money. He even took away his bank card from me and changed his pin number. Slowly he became violent: breaking things like plates and kicking the doors in when he was mad. I still coul do nothing to please him. We started screaming at each other all the time. But after every episode, he would say he was sorry. And, as with his unfaithfulness, I forgave him every time.

 

In 2003 April he broke a window of our house as he tried to throw a stone at me while I stood at the gate. I went to lay a charge against him at SAPS but we were told that we should attend counselling. I wanted some protection from the police, but they did not provide any. What did they mean that it was something we should settle between ourselves? But my husband saw that I meant business and for a short while things were better.

 

He began providing for the household and started giving me money again. But he would complain if I went out to see friends and family. He wanted me at home all the time. But it didn’t last long. Six months after I had reported him to the police, during a heated argument about our two-year old son, he punched me in my face. All I saw was “red” as blood oozed down and soaked my t-shirt. In that moment I was so afraid, I kept on thinking about the lyrics of a song: “no, I don’t want to die” … and I didn’t.

 

I laid charges of assault with intent to do grievous bodily harm against him. The matter went to court and he received a sentence suspended for five years and six months. I am one of the lucky ones. He has never laid a hand on me since. I sometimes think that there have been times when he has had the urge to hit me or something; but that sentence hanging over his head makes him think twice.