The after effects

This blog post recounts the events following when the fun goes wrong

Her dad came home and we went down to our local police station to report what had just happened to our daughter. When we arrived the constable at the reception desk recognized her dad (he is a detective captain in the police service) and his whole demeanor was friendly. I allowed my (then husband) to do all the talking. They spoke in Afrikaans. The constable asked what he could do for us, her dad explained that we were there to report a rape and pointed to my daughter. The constable said he would call sergeant so..and..so.. To handle the complaint and take our statements. My ex said No, he wanted another detective to take this case. The constable looked at him and said “Why, it’s just a little rape case?” My ex then leaned forward and said “Because it’s my daughter”.  “Oh” said the constable, “Captain why didn’t you say so in the first place”.

This just made me think, that if I was a woman on my own, trying to report this ‘little rape’ as he put it, how differently would I have been treated.

The next step was to go to the district surgeon and have our daughter examined for evidence of rape. Because the incident occurred in the Mitchells Plein area, we had to drive back there to have this done. The thought of putting my daughter through the humiliation of having some stranger examine her down there, after what she had just been through was quite nauseating. The examination showed that there was a little vaginal tearing and there was proof of sexual activity.

Then we were off to the local clinic, where she was given the morning after pill and an HIV test. We had to endure a lecture about what to do in the event the HIV test was positive. Thankfully it was negative, but they informed us that it could take several months to show up and she was put on a course of antiretrovirals just in case. To be re-tested in three months time.

Now all that was left was for justice to take place and the accused to be arrested.

More on the court case next blog post

Rape is NOT about sex

Rape is not about sex, it’s about power, control and dominance.

When you have been raped your first response is that of shame and guilt. Did I do something to precipitate this? Is it my fault? Why did this happen to me?  Will anyone believe that I didn’t want this to happen? I feel so dirty I don’t want anyone to know. You feel ashamed of what happened, sometimes even afraid to speak out and tell someone. You keep this shame within you and carry those feelings of guilt around like an anvil. Your life is changed forever.

This is what the perpetrator does to you; he invades your inner soul and robs you of your innocence. He controls your thoughts as you re-live this horrifying experience in your head. He has power and control over your feelings and even your outlook on life. Your attitude towards men in general can change. Having been raped at the age of twelve and being the mother of a child who was raped at the age of fourteen, I have very strong opinions on this topic. When I see people commenting on rape stories in the media as if the person brought this upon themselves, it makes my blood boil.

Rape is a degrading act of violence against another human being, where the rapist needs to feel in control and exert force over another to feel powerful. Feeding off the fear and shame of another; I say, no more! Stop the control! Stop the shame! Get rid of the guilt and speak out. Rob him of his power to control.

 It took me four years before I told anyone about my rape, but once I did I could feel the burden of carrying this secret around lifting from me. That’s why I am so vocal about it; I encourage you to share your experience with someone. Once you do, you release all that guilt and shame upon the person who deserves it, the rapist! He no longer holds a power over you. You can say with conviction; it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t deserve this. He is the guilty one; HE should be ashamed for what he has done. I will no longer be a victim, I am a survivor. I am in control of MY life and my feelings.

When the fun goes wrong

Read headline here

Friday August 8^th 2003- Three high school girls decided to bunk school. Ever bunked school as a teenager? I know I have, but this particular day will stay with these girls forever. This is not my story, but I have agonized over telling it for some time.

Three girls aged fourteen – fifteen years met at school that morning, but instead of going in they decided to walk up to their local taxi rank and go for a ride. By the time they reached Wynberg taxi rank most of the commuters had already been dropped off and the taxis were mostly empty. They got in a taxi with the driver, his friend and the guardtjie (person who collects the fare from commuters). The driver told them they could sit up front; two of the girls (girl A and B) went to sit up front sandwiched between the driver and his friend, while the third (girl C) had to sit in the back with the guard.

Girl A asked the driver to take them to her boyfriend’s house in Grassy Park, the driver then asked them if they would like a free ride around, they said yes. The music was pumping (if you know anything about South African mini bus taxis you will know that loud thumping music is a standard) and they were off. During the course of the drive the guard gripped girl C to the back of the taxi and pinned her to floor and raped her.

A while later one of the girls in the front turned around and asked where her friend was, as she couldn’t see her. Girl C then got up from the floor and girl B could see that she had been crying. She then told to the taxi driver to stop the car as she needed to go to the toilet.

The driver stopped outside a KFC and the three girls went into the bathroom, where girl C told them what had happened. Not knowing where they were they asked a customer inside and was told that they were in Mitchells Plain (not the safest suburb for anyone let alone three fourteen year old girls). They went back to the taxi and told the driver to take them back to the taxi rank. When they got there all three girls parted ways and girl C went to a nearby friend’s house.

She told her friend what happened and her friend’s mother immediately phoned her mom.

That was when I received the worst phone call a mother could receive.

When I arrived to fetch my daughter her eyes were swollen form crying and at that moment I just wanted to kill the person who did this to my little girl.

There is much more to this story, but I will share what happened after that in my next post.

I asked my daughter first before posting this if I could share her story on my blog, she responded with “It was a long time ago, I have grown from this and it has made me a stronger person”.

To my beautiful, brave daughter - You have grown into such a lovely young woman and I am proud of you. 

You’re dismissed

I like phrases, idioms and cliches, one thing I really enjoy is learning the origin and meaning behind these, but there is one saying I never liked. In fact I heard it for the first time when I was around ten years old and thought it was stupid. The saying; “you can’t have your cake and eat it too”. Being ten years old at the time I thought, well that’s dumb, what else are you supposed to do with your cake if you can’t eat it?

And that was that, I never allowed myself to think on it for a minute longer, it was a stupid saying, it didn’t make sense and I dismissed it. I refused to dwell on it. It was dismissed.

As I got older I heard it being used form time to time and somehow knew that it had something to do with not having it both ways, but how or why I didn’t know as it was stupid and I didn’t care to find out. I wasn’t going to waste any of my precious time thinking about it. One evening (recently) during conversation my boyfriend pointed out the meaning to me, saying that you can’t eat your cake if you have already had it. MIND BLOWN!

 Well duh, you say (insert laugh at my ignorant expense)

Then I began to think of all the things in life I have dismissed.

• Great opportunities I have missed out on, because of preconceived notions
• Friendships not made because of the wrong first impression
• Choices made with only one sided information
• Conclusions jumped to because of assumptions

I have decided that from now on I will…

Not judge a person based on someone else’s opinion of them, I will take the time to get to know them for myself and form my own opinion.

I will embrace more opportunities and scrutinize, before I dismiss something just because the ‘packaging’ doesn’t appeal to me at first.

I will try expand my experiences and be as open minded as I can, before dismissing things as stupid.

No more living in the comfort zone! Life is for living not coasting along.

The biggest addiction of all

There is an addiction so infectious it is an epidemic. It affects 1 out of every 3 people, and stays with you for life. It costs you money, time and your entire lifestyle will change. It’s called parenting.

Warning signs that you are about to become addicted:

You become broody every time you see a baby. You have the need to nurture and take care of something other than yourself. You feel your biological clock start ticking and you feel the urge to procreate.  You “ooh” and “aaah” over your friends Facebook pictures of their children. Your mother starts hinting that she wants grandchildren.

You can tell straight way upon entering someone’s home if they are addicted, there will be photos of their children on walls in frames on canvases almost everywhere. They will have child friendly furniture, gadgets to plug up holes in their electricity sockets. Strange vices around their home called toys, designed to help ease them into their new lifestyle. They will seek out family friendly places to go, where like-minded addicts can hang out and swop stories of their addiction.

Side effects:

Lack of sleep for the first few years, hours of soiled nappies, bedding and clothing. Potty training, sleep training and toddler tantrum sessions. Your life will never be the same, half your income will now be spent keeping up with this addiction.

All is not lost, there are websites, magazines and even support groups out there designed to help you cope with this particular addiction. Some people even feel the need to do it over and over again, by having more than one child.

There is good news though; it will make you far happier than anything you have ever experienced. The joy of being a parent (birth or adoption) is more than worth the sleepless nights and the damage to your financial security. I am happy to say, this is one addiction I will never beat.

I have however, discovered and new and just as dangerous addiction, grand parenting!!!

I am a woman I can........

I am a woman I can change my outfit five times before we leave the house and still complain about not feeling happy with my choice.

I am a woman I am soft hearted, sensitive and moody at times, but I still expect you to understand the many facets of me without questioning the mood swings.

I am a woman I can become irrational at certain times of the month, yell, cry and laugh all in one hour and still expect you to be understanding and compassionate with me.

I am a woman I am strong, independent, loving and kind. I want you to be supportive, gentle, sensitive and strong for me.

I am a woman I can be indecisive and demanding and sometimes challenging, but require you to be cool, calm and collected at these points in time.

I am a woman I want my man to be strong and manly, to throw me up against the wall and ravish me when the timing is right (and to instinctively know when that is) but I also want him to be sensitive enough to know when to share his feelings, and watch Twilight with me without complaining.

I am a woman I am obsessed with fashion, shiny things and frivolous conversations, I want my man to be able to be my lover, my rock and my best friend.

I am a woman, I am complicated and although I know you will never fully understand me, that my mind is an enigma to you, I love you for putting up with me and all my idiosyncrasies.

You are a man and you are all these things!

I love you Scott

The cupcake crowd

Last Friday a conversation on twitter about bucket lists and growing old, turned into a long discussion with a sense of  camaraderie between these women; @Shazphoto, @MamaZombie, @SamanthaPerry, @Nocturnalwenchy, @Jenty and myself. At the end of it all, we decided that we all needed a holiday and more cupcakes. 

This got me thinking about my upcoming birthday. I blogged a while ago about my "wobbly" I had when I turned 30, and now in just over a month I will be turning 40!!!!

I mean, how did I get old so fast? When my children were younger 30 was old to them and 40 was positively ancient. I remember when my ex turned 40 they called him an Australopithecus (yes I had to Google the spelling). 

I don't want to be old just yet, not when I still feel like I haven't really lived yet. spending most of my teens being married with children and all the responsibilities that came with that, kind of robbed me of my carefree years. (don't get me wrong I love my children and wouldn't change a thing)  Spending my twenties being a responsible parent of three primary school children was great. I kept thinking, when they are big enough to leave home, I can finally have a life, go out, meet friends etc and still be young enough to enjoy it. Then came my thirties and suddenly I had a teenager! No one can prepare you for parenting a teenager, let alone three. I prefer to call this period of  my life 'the dark ages' and leave it at that. (a whole other blog for another time).

Then my children suddenly grew up and became responsible adults in their own right. This was wonderful, I felt like I could finally be a little carefree and do things I like doing. At the same time I realised that I spent most of my life being a mom, a teacher, as Sunday school teacher, a domestic in my home and various other things we do instead of having fun. In between all of that I forgot to be a wife and a person. I was married for 22years and spent most of it working full day, doing household chores and sleeping. That pretty much summed up my life for two decades. And then I got divorced.

So here I am on the verge of turning 40, starting all over again. I live with my boyfriend (who is wonderful by the way). I have the financial security of a 20 year old, the body of a 60 year old, the mind and spirit of a 27 year old and the energy levels of (depending on the mood) either an 80year old or a 5 year old.

BUT.... you know what, in the end, it ain't nothing but a number!

This blog post was inspired by the cupcake crowd.