As I grow
When I was 12, my mother was removed from our family. We moved again (our 5th communal move), and instead of Mum looking after us, we had two nannies. One was a strict vegetarian, and the other was easygoing. I went to a different school and was not doing well with this change in our family. Our family meals were typically meat, potatoes, gravy, and mushy peas or some sort of soggy vegetable. I still hate peas to this day and will gag if someone tries to get me to eat them. This new meal plan, and new rigid rules, really set me on a path of depression. I wanted my old life back and wanted my Mum back. I didn’t understand why she was gone. When I was 13, we moved again, and I thought my Mum was moving back in with us. I didn’t realize she wasn’t moving in with us until moving day, and I was so disappointed. I refused to go to school. I became obviously depressed and ended up moving in with a community member, who I liked. She had one rule for me, if I was going to live with her, I had to go to school. So, I did, and she established a routine for me, read to me before bed, and my life became a new normal for me. I felt safe in her home. No random strangers I didn’t know, a calming environment with clear expectations, and an opportunity to relax.
One day, as I was going back to my family's place (I went there on the weekends), I saw my mum off in the distance. She was a tiny woman, so easy to spot. As I got closer to her, I wanted to run up to her and say hi! I was so excited to see her. However, the way she was walking was odd. Like she was hurt or something. As I got even closer, I realized her face was black and blue. She was hardly recognizable. My initial shock stopped me from approaching her. Literally stopped me dead in my tracks. She kept walking and didn’t see me. I never told anyone I saw her. This would be the last time I saw her. She ended up dying when I was 20 years old. My biggest regret was that I didn’t go up to her and bring her home with me that day or tell someone. I wrote letters to her but never mailed them. I was too afraid to mail them. Too afraid to tell anyone I was so scared she was getting abused. Her boyfriend would have been the one abusing her.
Growing up, my father was away a lot. When he was home, he would yell that he would bash our heads together if we didn’t behave. He never actually bashed our heads together, just the threat was enough for us to settle down. My parents had separate bedrooms, which I thought was normal. I do remember him telling me as a teenager, that mum was a slut, and he wasn’t our biological father. He was raising us out of the goodness of his heart. This stuck with me for a very long time. Years later, I gifted my father an ancestry DNA test kit. I explained to him it was to help find his lost family members. He did the test, and the results came back that he was 100% biologically my father. One of my sisters also did a test, and it came back 100% for her too. Turns out, Dad was the slut in the relationship, as news of his various girlfriends while still married to Mum, came out. Secrets don’t stay secret unless only one person is involved. I was angry for a long time, that Dad said this about Mum, but she’s dead now, so I can’t ask her about it. I even dreamed that maybe my “real father” is still out there, but alas, he is my father, take it or leave it.
Looking at my parents, I see patterns. Distant husband, a mother trying to look after a home and 6 children by herself. Verbal abuse is just as damaging as physical abuse. Anyone raising their voice at me still reverts me back to that scared child. Mum no longer being a part of the family from a young age caused me to seek out others to fill the void I was missing. Even the communal environment we lived in caused more chaos than it helped, as the others were very judgmental of our family. I still remember comforting a friend who was crying, and an adult yelling at me to not do that. So, I learned to not show compassion as it was a sign of weakness, not strength. This is how messed up our childhood was.
The only love you should desperately search for, is the one that comes from you to you. Edmond Mbiaka
