Written by: Admin_SheEvo
Growing up, I was forced to step up and be a mother to my siblings. At the age of seven, when my peers were attending school, I was at home looking after my younger brother and sister. I was the eldest in the house; my mom was a domestic worker. Using a train as a mode of transport to go to work requires one to wake up in the early hours. My mom would leave at around half past four to make sure she was on time for a five o’clock train. I would have to wake up and clean the house, bathe my siblings, and make sure they ate before going to play. Around three o’clock in the afternoon, I’d have to make sure I washed the pots and made the fire, ensuring that the water was at least boiling when my mom arrived.
My youngest sibling was four years younger than me. Most of the time, I had to carry him on my back, and I feel like this robbed me of my right to play as a child. You may think my mom was a single mom, but unfortunately, she was not. My father was present, but he was this scary monster, and we made sure that we didn’t get on the wrong side as far as he was concerned.
My father was a drunkard. He would drink almost every day and always had an excuse for fights. He never felt sorry for my mom as she woke up and went to work, came back tired while he was home the whole day doing nothing except drinking. Whenever he fought my mom, he would also include me, saying I’m just like my mom and that I know that my mom is not going to work but to men. I was always in the middle of their matters and got a beating for it, which was very traumatic.
I grew up hating my father for what he did to us, and I blamed him for separating us from my mom because his violence escalated until we were taken to an orphanage for ten years. I’d ask myself if my mom was alright or still alive as he sometimes would beat my mom half dead.
I vowed to fight for women’s rights when I grew up, and I kept that vow.