January 20, was when I was let loose like a Pitbull to go prey on other sleepy carnivorous mammals. It was a liberating feeling. You might be wondering what is liberating about a 14-year old who’s partially kicked out to go figure life out on his own, behind the banner of giving him “room to study”?

Well, the answer is clear and uncluttered. I’d grown tired of the weekly agonizing moaning perpetrated by the so called man of the house. He was really the man of the moment to be precise. All he did was to fill his belly with the black beer and its effects were widespread hickeys on my mother’s body.

I don’t think there is anything more painful than witnessing all that. Sex is, and should stay private, but not to that one. I guess he was too nice to even entertain the neighbour’s ears with my mother’s soothing voice. I watched him piercing every part with the stench of rotting fish that he had by Tshepo’s Tavern, whispering the following weekly wail: “Kukwam’apha” – this is my house.

By day, that bastard would act as though nothing ever happened, calling me to come get 50c and buy myself sweets. The hatred inside is as bad as the eruption of a volcano, so don’t push me.

I am not bitter because I didn’t get the toys from McDonalds. I am sour because of my lost childhood. The void is still there and the void is growing. If there is any gift that one can give to their kids it’s being present.

Be a present mother or father. Easy.


Tell us: Do you think absent or abusive parents are aware of the effects these behaviours have on their children?