At the end of last year, we went door to door in Khayelitsha to find out what the community thinks about rape, how they are being affected by it, and what they think we can do to address it. We spoke to a total of 492 residents from Endlovini (89), Harare (102), Ilitha Park (123), Nkanini […]
There was one fourteenth of February that I went out to see a musical by myself, I had totally forgotten that it was Valentines Day. At that stage I was not in a romantic relationship.
I must also add that even when I am in a romantic relationship I don’t care to celebrate it because I really believe that people that you love must feel the impact of your love whenever you have an opportunity to show them.
I am also a firm believer of celebrating people individually and authentically.
So I am big on birthdays. I think they are more original and personal.
Back to the night of the musical, most people were of course wearing red and white colors it was revolting,
and the couples were all over each other like a bad skin rash, yiiiirrrghhh. At first I chuckled and thought it was sweet but throughout the entire concert the couples were whispering sweet nothings into each others ears making it difficult for single people not to feel like they are missing out on this thing that they all have.
I could clearly see the hand squeezes and the clasping kisses from the back row.
I thought I will quickly get out and go somewhere else so that I can grab a bite and head home.
So I embarked on a trip to have a lovely steak in a lovely restaurant and listen to the piano, they always had this great pianist playing there and
I loved that it was quiet.
Better than a Saturday night by yourself at home right? wrong it was the worst decision I made, I went inside only to be confronted by couples again.
I hated it, needless to say. I don’t like the over exaggerated emphasis on a day that was decided by some people who’s reason for Valentine’s I don’t even know.
I love life , I love those that I love but I choose to celebrate them every chance I get.
So don’t send me roses on Valentine’s day.
Rather call me up to have a nice chat and some lovely wine and talk about our lives and celebrate our achievements and share our dreams.
My story begins when I was just four years of age – yes I remember a lot of things since that young age. I was not yet in crèche and the family friend took care of me. A man sexually abused me daily by laying me on the small bed and flipping through a porn magazine. At that age I did not understand what kind of magazine he was looking at. I remember that his wife always wore a lot of bangles and jewellery so I was always waiting for that soothing, comforting sound of her bangles clinking together because then I would know he would stop now, zip up his pants and help me down from the bed.
I was then again abused at the age of eight right through to 10 by two different men, one was also a family friend the other was my own cousin. Surely at this point I understood what was happening because at school they taught us to say NO if somebody touches you inappropriately yet I couldn’t say no. I didn’t have that luxury at all because in my mind this is what I was created for, for men who I thought I could trust to use me as they wished. They were the adults so they were always right in my mind. I did not confide in anybody, I was too ashamed and embarrassed. When I ended up opening up to a close friend of mine at age 11 years, she went to tell her mother and her mother put so much fear in me I shut up for many years after. She threatened that if I spread such rumours I will end up in jail.