AT AGE 9

I was on my way back home from school at the end of the term. Mum always sent a boda man to pick me up. I was scared to reach home. Mum always hit me if I performed badly. The boda man had my school report card and I badly wanted to check it before I reach home. I wanted to be sure that this time round I performed well

"Ssebo, how did I perform?" I asked.

Boda man: I don't know. Why are u asking me?

"because you have my school report card. The teacher gave it to you." I replied.

Boda man: (laughs) wait for your mum to check for you. Are you afraid that she is going to beat you?

"Yes, please you check first and tell me so that I know where to start from when she asks." I replied in fear.

The boda guy ignored me and took me home, handed my report to my mum and then left. I badly wanted to know my performance before settling. I knew what would happen next if I performed poorly. I was going to be beaten for the poor performance. I made a pitiful sick look so that mum would have mercy on me and went straight to bed before she checked. I realized that she didn't yell after checking it so I knew I survived. This was a smart move. I told myself to fake sleep for 30 minutes then I would wake up after playing sick. I closed my eyes and laid still in bed.

Md Essy: hey Lisa, wake up. It's time for lunch.

Lisa: yes mum I am coming now. With a sleepy face, I moved to get my food. I ate so fast with a wide smile on my face because mum hadn't complained yet. After food, I ran out to play with my friends.

Md Essy: Lisa!

Lisa: yes mum I am coming.

Md Essy: so let's talk about your class performance. Since when did you start being among the last ten pupils in class? Don't you have smart kids in class? Can't you be like them? Do you know how I get your school fees? Do u even have pity on me?

At this moment, I could hear my heartbeat. My whole body was shaking. I knew what was about to happen. I wanted the earth to open itself and swallow me. Tears rolled down my cheeks. "Mum, I'm sorry I'll improve my performance," I said as I knelt down.

Md Essy: sorry for what? For not feeling pity on the money I pay which you just waste?

While still on my knees, she got a small guava tree branch and I immediately ran out of the house. She sent two teenage boys from the neighborhood to chase me back. I ran upto the shops on the roadside with a loud cry for public sympathy but the boys manage to get me and took me back home.

I cried so much even before she raised a hand on me in fear as she stared. She then at once gave me sound slap and instructed me to keep quiet. After the slap, I felt like my cheek was paralyzed. I couldn't cry no more. I held it and the fear I had made me shut up at once. She then gave me a random hitting and instructed me to shower and go to bed. This time round, I could not sleep but rather imagine how I could escape from home. I wished for death and hated myself. This was child abuse which, in most African countries, is not given a thought. I longed for my dad who would always be on my side. He never wanted anyone to hurt me. He always promised to beat those who beat me. I wanted to find my dad.

As his first born child, he couldn't imagine a single thing hurting me. My eyes were swollen and heavy, making me doze off. I took a nap and woke up at 9pm. It was already dinner time. I ate my food and went back to bed without saying a word to anyone. I still sobbed and had many thoughts. Everyone else at home had looked unconcerned and they all watched tv happily. It was my mum, my sister Diana and Lilly the maid. They all had dinner and went to sleep. My body was hurting. I had swellings and red marks all over. Every part of me I was putting on the mattress hurt so bad. I rested on my back while looking at the ceiling. I had a lot of regrets. I felt lonely and desperate for love. Was every child being beaten like I was? Why did I have to be born in such a family? Why am I dumb that even when I try so hard I fail? Why am I alive? What is the importance of education? I wanted to understand her. Poor performance was not good and it's not something to brag about. But I was trying. I don't know why things always failed but I tried. Yes, I was stubborn at school but I tried to reason. I also hated my own dumbness because I couldn't even reason on the smallest things. Maybe I was still young, or maybe I was just playful and worth the beating. Back in my country in those years, beating children was considered as a way of disciplining them. They always had some bible verse in proverbs that supports beating them with a rod or else they would be spoilt. It was out to be beaten, but not like I was a thief. My whole body hurt. I felt pain everywhere. I silently cried in bed till my head hurt.

While drowning in my thoughts, I slowly lost sight and went to sleep. That was my memory for the age of nine (9).