I am over at Oprah.com reading the recap of Tyler Perry’s interview with Oprah about the abuse in his life.. both sexual and physical. The physical from his dad and sexual from other adults. It was rather brutal.
For the longest time I used to think that child abuse of the sexual, physical and verbal kind was a preserve of white people only. That thinking kinda makes sense because the only time I ever heard of it, it was always about white people or people of the western world. We africans did not do such things.
Then I grew up and realised that just because we do not talk about it as a people i.e. Kenyans, Ugandans and dare I say Africans as a whole.. did not mean it did not exist in our communities.
Listening and reading to Tyler Perry talk of the abuse and the aftermath leaves me thinking about the countless Africans who suffer in silence and have no where to go and carry all that baggage into adulthood never having a place to talk or confide and find release. How this baggage goes on to affect all the relationships they later try to forge and how the cycle of abuse sometimes gets passed forward from the victim. How one has to carry all this shit in their life until they go to the grave sometimes never having found peace.
For some reason of all the stars who have talked of abuse etc (and it does get a little tedious because apart of me begins to think, kwani everyone in hollywood was abused.. ala?) none of it has touched me like this.
Another part of me thinks about how can so many people be abusers. what happens to break a person like that.. The numbers are staggering because I can imagine for all those victims who come forth there are about 5 others (pure guess work here) that stay silent
Anyway.. I am rumbling but thought to share this interview with y’all. And if you suffered some kind of abuse you need to reach out to someone
KK is sleeping in her chair, Nikh is out with his grandparents , expected home anytime soon. Big Al is away on work issues, the pan is heating getting ready for the bacon I am having for lunch and I am here quickly pasting and linking something I thought would be of interest.
It is to me, because I am currently practicsing something in the hope of being excellent. Coming across this article has spured me on.
PS. I told Big Al some time back that I am going to win a Grandslam some time before I am 45 and make into the record books as the oldest woman and African at that to win Wimbeldon…. he laughed and laughed just like you are…
now I can get to say.. read the article … it is a possibility.
Have an excellent day
and below is the link to the article
I have refered to her twice and she is on my blog roll. If you have never taken the time out to read her blog, this is the time.
She inspires, uplifts and challenges me.
Because of her my self pitying days are gone. Because of her I have a better understanding of faith in the face of a storm. Because of her I have learnt the meaning of taking responsibilty of ones actions and behaviour.
In the coming days she is undergoing treatment which is very risky but life saving.
So I have come here to ask you good people to pray for Ms. Rae Lewis Thorton. http://www.raelewisthornton.com/
and for those of you that can… make a donation.
Today I am happy. Very happy, grateful and believing in hope.
My family has been going through some really tough stuff and through it all my mother, my personal hero has inspired me with her strength and grace in dealing with this issue. The breakthrough has been long awaited. The problem is not solved but on it’s way to being solved and for that I am truly truly grateful and glad.
That said, I had to ask mum where she gets her strength to go on. I was crying on the phone as she spoke. Feeling stupid for crying, apologising for it.. but needing to because that is how it was. Her answer was God and her faith in God.
My faith is there but complicated. Not so straight forward anymore but ever present. I pray, I believe….. just not in organised chrisitianity. Nonetheless I count myself a believer and I am bringing up my son believing in the christian God. Ironic. I know.. but my point is that I want him to grow up having faith in God.. whom I believe in.. and later on can define his faith for himself.
But in God, the supernatural power, creator of all things, Him I believe in.. the rest… well… eh…
This post is about gratitude and hope. I am thankful. I remain hopeful.. (though hope and I have been down an interesting path, from beliving hope is hopeless.. to seeing it fulfilled…hope.. a strange human feeling)
Be encouraged if things are going thick. There is hope and be grateful for the now you in are in for the blessing you have now and keep on keeping on.
That’s the title of the book that I have just finished reading by Chika Unigwe. If you get the chance I highly recommend it. Here is a review of the book.
While I was in Nairobi I visited all the book stores I could remember. One had been closed but the rest were still there. Some kind folks here on this blog had recommeded a few books and so off I went armed with my list to purchase these books, only to find that what people call a novel is what I call a story. There was no way I was going to pay Ksh 500 for a book that was 20 pages long; case in point “On the highway to Dandora” or something like that. If I am to pay that amount of money the book as to be at least 280 pages strong.
“On Black Sisters’ Street” left me reeling. The whole african prostitute in Europe fascinates and intrigues me. I shared my experience of it here. As the years went by and I moved from that town to another, I have not interacted with theladies. Now and then I do bump into the owner of the saloon, which she since shut down because it was not profitable but I did find out she has a brothel in the town where I work. Looking at her, you would never believe it. Last time I saw her she was looking much better than the previous time I had seen her. Then she had taken to the bottle, was running the saloon and holding down her job and the brothel. When I last met her it was on the bus and she looked much better. She had married some old old muzungu who was taking care of her. She still had her job _(was actually on her way to work). After reading this book, I wonder about her brothel and the girls she has and…… yeah I wonder
I have been reading interviews of Chika Unigwe about this book and the research involved. I find myself agreeing with her when she says one of the lessons she took away while researching the book was the whole judging of people. Until one really knows what it is like to walk in another’s shoes and the why’s of one’s decisions, we cannot really judge or hold one in contempt. It is humbling to realise that none of us chooses the circumstances we are born into. Sometimes those circmstances force us to make choices that those born into better have the luxury of saying “I would never do that, no matter what”…
I am rumbling.. to quote Madiba “poverty strips a man of his dignity”
In ending, I would just like to say that it would be nice to get some more “happy ever after” endings from African authors. Over the holidays I read Chimamande Ngozi’s “Purple Hibiscus”, “Half the Yellow Sun” and now “On Black Sister’s Street” then the other book by another Nigerian novelist…eish please.. some more happy endings please.. that is how I like my stories.