The Journey

Rough waters

Living in our new homestead was as comfortable as could be expected. My mother left the market in her area and went to sell in the next parish over. She would leave early in the mornings and come back late evenings. My brother and I were now 10 and 9 respectively. We were left completely on our own in what I would call 'big yaard' The owners had eight children between the ages of 6- 21 yrs. All of them lived in the house. It was a very large house so everyone was comfortable as was expected. Puberty years approached me in my eleventh year. Little buds were sticking out of my chest and hair growth began appearing under my arm pits and on my vagina . I was being hurled early into the teenage years. I felt comfortable in my skin because my mother had told me earlier what to expect. What made me uncomfortable was the sneaky looks that boys began to display towards me at school and in the 'big yard'. I tried to make myself as invisible as possible.
The first time a boy touched me inappropriately I immediately shut that shit down. The touch felt good at first but my conscious was screaming 'Not Right' especially someone who you trust and was way older than you. I wormed my way out of it with a firm denial. That shit was not for me. It never happened again during the rest of our tenure there. Thankfully.
My mother met a new man who was the best stepdad one could ever had. We were still at the 'big yard' but things were great. We started going to family trips again and we were back again to being one big family. My stepdad even invited his daughters to live with us , They were high school students but they were not sulky and unfriendly like most teens are , They were the closest I have ever been to sisterhood and we are still lifelong sisters. They were different, fun, excitable and we became one big step family.

Two years later it all came to an end . Even to this day I cannot say what the disagreement was about. I just knew that it was time to seperate from my beloved step family and my brother and I were going to stay with an aunt not too far away from our previous rental. My mother was going to live in Ocho Rios.
When I think about it years later. I came to the conclusion that it was the worst environment I have ever lived in.
The second time a boy attempted to touch me was at my aunt's house. I was livid. I threatened to complain to my aunt and that shit was shut down immediately. That was the first time I almost experience incest.
The first time I saw incest was at my aunt's house. I accidentally stumbled on the culprits and I was emotionally sick. I was visibly upset and irritated for weeks. That was not a scene for an eleven year old to see. I never told anyone about what I saw that day not even my brother. Somethings you just take to the grave.
The first time my mom physically abused us was at my grandaunt's house. She usually comes on Thursdays to visit and take grocery and lunch money . My grandaunt must have complained about our behaviour that until this day I would never admit that we were trouble makers because we were not. I cant recall one incident or argument between our aunt and is about our behaviours. Now that I am older ,I have come to the conclusion that most familes hate to be inconvenienced by other families children for long periods of time. I guess my grandaunt was a great pretender. I have never forgotten that day and I dont wish to. I have also never forgiven my aunt and even though she has passed years ago now , I still will not. I believe that children should be treated with respect and loved unconditionally.
My mom came prepared for us. I went to meet her when she came off the taxi so I could help her with the grocies. We were happy to see her and she didnt greet us with no malice so we thought all was well. Surprisingly ,things took a turn for the worst when we got home and she produced a large , thick piece of rubber that was cut from a tyre. I remember she beat my brother first for almost half an hour relentlessly and without mercy ,tearing into his skin with the rubber while she shoved him onto the floor like she was beating a man who had offended her and kneeled on him. I have never seen such cruelty to another human in all my eleven years.
When it was my turn ,I had already died a thousand times over. I could feel the rubber tearing into my flesh in swift flashes. I remember pretending that I had died for about 7 seconds because the lashes were unbearable and there wasnt much I could bear. The monster of a woman continued the beatings like a mentally unstable person. The pretense meant nothing to her. My grandaunt did not even intervened during none of the beatings but she sat aside after the cruelty was over trying to console us. I ignored her ass for almost two weeks. I spoke when spoken to and I never related to none of the others that were living there. It was a tough time
We were permanently scared emotionally and physically. Our skins were filled with welts , a few lascerations that bled. One of My brothers eyes was swollen shut from one of the lashes from the rubber. I cant say if it was accidentally or willfully done.
Our entire bodies were in pain. My eyes leaked with tears the entire night. I did not sleep at all. My body was in too much pain. I know my brother had experienced the same pains but he was never a talker. He was always fearful of our mother so its a possibility he had nightmares that night.
The next day was Friday. It was a school day. Noone cared how we looked going off to school all bruised and battered. On arrival I stood by myself in devotion. I didnt even participate. My mind was filled with the incident. It crawled its way into my memories over and over again . I just couldnt forget! This must have been what a slave felt after being lashed ,then had to get up for work in the canefield the next day. It caused my eyes to water continuously and I had to be hiding the tears so my classmates didnt ask what was wrong. It was too shameful and painful to explain ,especially when I couldnt say what we did to cause such horrendous act towards us. It is still a mystery and will remain so.
It was a few minutes after devotion when my brother's teacher came to call me and also called my teacher. Oh Lord! It seemed my brother told her or she found out something happened to us. We pullled into a room by both teachers and the principal. I tried to tell a lie to escape the shane but was found out even before I could finished. We were examined and you could see the looks of sympathy on the adults faces. They became angry and wanted to get the police involved. The two teachers volunteered to go see my mother at the house but she had already gone back to the other parish. I am not sure what transpired after but I always wished she should have been brought to justice for her cruelty. No man should lay a hand on any child in such wicked fashion. Discipline must be done with love.
We lived with our grandaunt for a couple more months before my mom decided to take us to the parish she worked to live with her. She now had a new man and we were going to live together. We would finally be out of my grandaunt's home.