Thirteen long years

| Friday March 19, 2010 00:00

I later realised that friendship to him meant getting sex from me. I was only 19. I knew nothing about sex then and I did not want to get involved in it. Yet I had agreed to the friendship. In 1988 he seriously demanded sex from me. He wanted it by force. He beat me hard to get his way. This bothered me.  I left him and went into hiding at my sister's place.

He followed me to my hiding place, harassed me and inflicted more pain. I reported him to the customary court where he was heavily caned.

It was very emotional for him. He pleaded with me for forgiveness. 'I will never repeat it,' he promised. Thinking that the caning had taught him a lesson, I forgave him. He was now in the Botswana Defence Force and was accommodated at the camp. That was in 1989. We started all over again. In 1990 he got me pregnant and I gave birth to a boy. This time I thought he was serious and that the birth of our baby would change his unpleasant behaviour towards me. In 1993 I moved in with him with my parents' consent. I was now married to him under customary law.

If I had known then what I know now I would not have agreed to the marriage. This soldier was now in total control of my life. His power over me was overwhelming. It was weighing me down. My boy was no longer mine. He was his. He owned him. He continued to forcefully have sex with me, literally raping me from time-to-time. Sex was not at all appealing to me and I hated it, even up to this day. All I wanted was for him to allow me to pursue my career. That was not his way of thinking. I was now his sex tool. I was his wife and I was in a terrible relationship and I do not know why I got married, he was a batterer. I knew that when they start battering they never stop. Why? There is an answer to this question. My mother had died. She was a shoulder I could always cry on. She was there when I needed her, she was someone to share my problems with. She showered me with love and was always ready to soothe my emotions but she was gone and I was devastated, alone and lost.

'Men think they have traditional rights to control the movement and behaviour of women. There is a clash between modern and traditional expectations. Women have the right to move freely and make decisions, just like men.'

Ask me where my father was. At that time he didn't care. He had had relationships with other women even when my mother was alive and when I think about it now, she died of a broken heart. He regrets it now and wants to make amends but it is too late. Without a mother who I could turn to, I turned to this man thinking he would fill the gap and the feeling of emptiness, but I was wrong.

I was exposed to his fists, kicked, bashed against floors and walls. The stick of honour, used as part of his uniform, was one of his weapons and no longer used for what it was intended. The beatings were done in the presence of the children - by then I had the second one. Beatings also happened in public, before I went to work. My work suffered as I was forever off sick or in hiding because of the endless beatings and the emotional effects.

I will never forget one particular day in my life, when I had visited one of my friends to prepare for a party to celebrate our marriage. My husband had agreed to this. I had asked for his permission as I knew very well that I had to. Men give permission, women follow the instructions, usually with conditions attached. I was home by five pm and that was the biggest sin I could ever have committed. It was a sin that I was later to pay for heavily. According to him, I had not gone to the friend's house. The accusations were numerous, including that I was sleeping around. I suggested taking him to my friend to confirm that I had really been there. We got into the car and the 'almighty and powerful' drove to Mokolodi, parked in the bush, ripped off thorn bushes and gave me a thorough beating. Like a good wife, I waited for him to finish his disciplinary act, because even if I screamed, there would be nobody to save me. I was at his mercy and his alone. We drove back to the house. Demanding sex was the next punishment. 'What a life' I thought to myself, I hated sex especially after being so brutally beaten.

If a woman is forced to have sex, this is considered as rape whether she is married or not. In our culture women were never forced to have sex. So where is this coming from?'

I reported the beatings to the headman in my village. He in turn reported it to the BDF authorities. Several meetings were held with the parents from both sides according to the culture. I was told to go back to him and try again. 'Itshoke, lenyalo le a itshokelwa' (marriage is perseverance). I felt alone and so depressed. My relatives had sided with him.

My brothers and sisters told him about my movements during the times when I was in hiding. As if this was not enough, my life was also controlled by his mother. He was her son, the only breadwinner. I tried hard to please her, built her a home in the rural area where she lived, furnished the house to try to make her at least accept me. She was not at all satisfied. She would visit us in town and take over the house, lay down the rules and order that everything in the town house be moved to the village where she lived. He was her son not mine. When I complained to my husband, the answer was, 'this is my mother. If it was not for her I would not be here, so listen to her.'

'Family can support or constrain women in abusive relationships'

I had now been working for the bank for many years. I paid the rent, the bills, and for the development of the homes, paid for the cars that we bought and supported the children almost single-handedly. What he did with his money, I never got to know. He and his mother enjoyed the sweat of my brow. I said to myself, 'I am the man in this house, the provider, and my energy is drained day in and day out. Why am I here?'

On the April 7, I decided to leave. I left after yet another beating, which left me on crutches. I was again persuaded to go back and try again. These were my last words to them, 'I am not going back. If you are guilty and bothered by the P3000 you gave for the lobola, I am prepared to give it to you now, and you can pass it on to my in-laws, if you feel you owe them'.

The physical damage is enormous. My bones are affected at my age. I am emotionally tired - what for? I walked out and the greatest burden has been lifted from my shoulders.

My case is with the lawyers. When this man was instructed to release the car, which I pay for on a monthly basis, he decided to damage it. It had to be towed to the garage. I had to apply for another loan from the bank to purchase the car I presently use, and pay the installments for one of the cars that we jointly owned, which was sold without my knowledge - that was his and his mother's decision.

As I have walked out, it is his time to care for the children. I have done it for so many years. The children are emotionally stressed. They know and understand that I have been abused in front of their very eyes. One of them actually persuaded me to leave.

My parents and relatives hate me for the decision that I made. I hate them as well. This is how I feel now. If it means sleeping on the floor and eating from a dust bin, I will do it. I have been suffering, not my parents. I need my peace and I will get it back.

I would like to take this opportunity to give the following messages loud and clear.

To all the mothers-in-law I want to be specific. If they want their sons to remain married, they have to stop interfering. They have to wean themselves from their sons. They have to accept, recognize and respect their daughters-in-law if they want to be fed and cared for. They have to seriously refrain from competing with their daughters-in-law.

To women: I say, if it is hot in the marriage or in any relationship, get out while you still have time to get your dignity and respect back.

To the government of Botswana. I would like to say - there have been trials to stop this violence against women and children, but a lot still needs to be done.

To the men, I say it's high time you realised that women are human beings with feelings like you. Women are not stones or objects, which you can throw around. You must watch out, otherwise in a few years this marriage institution will cause the greatest number of funerals. Remember some of us women are now aware and we will act. However, my years of pain were a long 13 years and it's all over now. I have reclaimed my dignity and respect.

From: Stories of Courage Told By Women (Lightbooks, Women's Shelter Project 2000)