Make me whole

Karama's a b***h. And I'm definitely not a match

I believe in karma and this had to be it. Otherwise, how would one explain the series of misfortunes I found myself in? I was bullied in the very same year in which I entered my new school. I went to school every day waiting to be teased by schoolchildren and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it because like I homeless chicken, I had no backbone. Besides, the people bothering me were all repeaters, boy repeaters to make matters worse. Although I was never physically assaulted by any of them, they left a big enough scar in my life. So big, that it won’t heal.

“Look at how skinny she is.” Banele would start, succeeding in making the other third graders laugh until their stomachs hurt. “And look at the shoes she’s wearing!” I was wearing boy brand shoes because that’s what my dad could afford, I guess. “The class laughed again.” clown, as usual... Funny how he was no different from me his home situation was way worse than mine by there I was, getting bullied by Kwanele the repeater. I hated him with such a passion that I even wrote an entire speech… In Afrikaans to recite to the whole class because I was fed up with him taking even the smallest thing and turning it into a big joke. I never understood why I had to be the one he teased. “Your teeth.” Oh no. I knew exactly what was coming and sighed. No matter what, I refused to cry and be seen as weak in front of him. I DID NOT want him to see that side of me and take more advantage of my vulnerability than he already had.

There's nothing I loved more than going home every day. There wasn't anything, really that I looked forward to about going home. I knew I’d be met by the two mean helpers hired to take care of my little brother, Wonga while our parents were at work. They felt too entitled in my opinion. I’ve never seen the house help hired at our house respecting her place and staying in her lane. All of them automatically assumed the role of “Mother,” bad mothers, might I add. I did not appreciate being assaulted up by someone with their own family somewhere out there. Especially not for something I deemed as “Small.” Or “Unnecessary.” If they felt that they were power-hungry or whatever it is that runs through helpers' minds when they decide to hit their boss's children, they should’ve done it to their children. See how they would have liked that!

“If your parents left you with me for at least a week, you’d be as straight as a ruler!”

The nerve of that woman! To crawl out of whatever hole she crawled out of and talk to me like that was borderline disrespectful. The worst part is that they would not have been doing such had not been doing all of that had our parents not given them the power to do that. They weren’t on our side, they never have been and as for me, I felt attacked. I strongly felt and believed that a plan was put out that I be treated differently; besides l, I came from home having that belief that stepmothers are evil and was immensely terrified of what that meant for me. With that attitude, I took everything as a direct attack. My dad told me that we'd go to Durban, a beautiful place with a few of the most beautiful beaches. I’d never seen it in person before, the closest I’ve been to the beach is when I look at it from the TV.

Whoa. I thought to myself as I entered the very beautiful house. This house is beautiful. Everything is shiny in here. Is that a TV? I stared at the flat-screen television ahead of me.

My thoughts got disturbed by my dad informing me that he was leaving to check on my younger brother and his wife in the hospital. She had just given birth and was ready to be discharged. I was too scared to ask how to switch the television on because things just changed the moment we got there and it was like the man I was travelling with the whole time was different from the one I was with.

Bored out of my mind, I took a tour around the house and was stunned at how beautiful the place was. The dining room table had vases and ornaments neatly placed on top of it. I couldn’t even walk around freely because I felt the wooden tiles made a whole lot of noise, especially when walking on the swollen part. I had to be prepared for the worst. She was on her way home. Pity I could just keep my mouth don’t about me and my family's suspicions. I straight out asked Thando, my stepsister, if she and her mother had any malicious plans for me and she just looked confused and said no, thereafter half laughing. I felt a bit of relief washing over my body for that short while before he went ahead and recited everything to her. I looked down, feeling ashamed of myself as I took every bit of backlash my stepmom, Siwe, had to offer me. Her eyes flashed with anger as her cheeks reddened and she ground her jaw, swollen glands becoming eminent, and spat: “I WILL NOT have a child in my house that will speak like that, you hear me?” “Yes, mom,” I responded. I felt that I had to call her that because it was kinda shoved down my throat by my father when he started referring to her as that whenever her name came up in our conversations. “I’ll get my belt and you hit you so hard, you’ll go back to your home.” I was now on the verge of crying as I thought about why she would say that. “I see they taught you to be disrespectful towards elders where you come from!” She then clicked her tongue and dismissed me. Like a dog with its tail between its legs, I walked away in shame. I already had it implanted in my mind that I was hated so hearing that was not at all easy for me. The very first day she met me, she was already grilling me.

“Do you have shirts? School shoes?”

“No,” I answered truthfully.

“Why didn't you come from with your old ones?”

Uh because… I wore them out because I didn’t want them so I walked around trying to get them to tear so I would get a new pair.

“My shoes are torn. They have holes underneath. My mom figured that since the year has already ended, that I might just go without. That has to buy them here then.” I settled for a way better answer than the one I had in mind, barely able to construct a sentence in my dad's home language. Silence fell upon us once again and I appreciated that so much as I didn’t want to talk… it should say “Be grilled.” anymore. I just wanted to bask in the silence, which I found to be quite comfortable. and try to focus on the important issue, going to school and making my father proud of me.