(The following story is real, and although the original format has been restructured and edited, I have related it largely in the words of the main protagonist as she narrated her sad but heartwarming tale – a tale of betrayal, of relentless pain, of loneliness, of courage; but above all, of a love that has transcended every divide to heal two hearts and bring two lonely souls solace: A story that encapsulates the worst and the best of the human condition; a uniquely Guyanese story. Names have been changed to protect identities, so we will call the main protagonist, who is only 18 years old, Nalini). EVERYONE has dreams – even me. Life itself seems so easy by looking at other individuals, but we all fail to realize it’s a real world and not a fairytale world we nurture. Sometimes we make silly mistakes and have to pay a heavy price. Even though we ask for forgiveness, why doesn’t God respond? Maybe he does in his mysterious ways and one has to face difficulties in order to fly.
Where do I begin to tell the story of my life? I think every child, in given circumstances, has the right to make life decisions if their safety is threatened, even with adults around. They are supposed to be there to help you through each process as you grow, because they were once there. But what happens to a child when no one is really around? Sometimes I feel so alone and that no one loves me.
I guess I crave for the love of parents I never had. The only person that I could count on is my grandpa, whom I call dad. When he is there no one matters because he means the world to me. He took care of me when no one was there. He took me in when no one wanted me. He moulded me into his own. He never cared that he had no child because I was his own. I love him with every breath I take. I kept secrets from him, for which I hate myself, but I never wanted to be more of a burden to him than I already am.
He would sacrifice his own needs to make sure I get everything I desire. And yes, we did have problems because he failed to see that I was growing up and needed a different kind of protection – from the predators.
He still pictured me to be a little child. Maybe he wanted to protect me from the world because he knew there were bad people and I was too naпve to think badly of anyone. There were things I hid from him and I was wrong in so many ways and I had to go through what no girl ever should.

TRANSCENDENTAL LOVE
People look with raised eyebrows when they see my grandfather and I in public together, and witness the love we share, because he is of African descent and I am of Indian descent and we share no blood ties, but our love for each other is beautiful and transcendental.
Ever since I was a toddler, my mom abandoned me to run after men to fulfil her desires. She thought that it was a tragic mistake she made to ‘birth’ me. She probably tried to kill me so many times before birth…who knows? When I was born she just left me right on the roadside in a nest of ants and went after a man and never cared to look back to see if anyone picked me up.
Luckily my dad (grandpa) was there to rescue me from her promiscuous behaviour. He took me in at just a few months old and never bothered about the expenses of raising a child. He had taken my grandma in when her husband died.
Years have flown by but I still have terrifying memories of my childhood experiences. No mother should allow her child to go through torture and molestation at the hands of a man she claimed to love.   
Probably he never saw her child as his own, so he probably thought why bother about her? She is available and can be a prized possession so why let go of that opportunity?
My mother never cared for me, but why should she? After all, I was in her way of freedom. But I fail to comprehend why my mother is different from other children’s mom. I was once told that the definition of a mother is someone who gave you birth, nurtures you and protects you from danger.
Why is my mother different? As my suffering increased, I began to feel only hatred towards my mother, and that hatred can be justified. You may tell me to forget the past and move on, but how can I when the past has left a permanent scar that cannot be erased, even if I lose my memory, because my soul has been traumatized. It’s a usual thing to say “it’s easy to forgive but difficult to forget”, but in my case it’s difficult to do both.
Ever since I can recall, my dad has worked in the interior for the betterment of our lives and towards my future. He always tells me “there is always a calm after the storm” and his words are what I live by each day.
I always loved my grandma but I don’t think that she ever loved me and was forced to take me in because my grandpa wanted me.
There was a point in my life when I couldn’t live without either one, but I can say with assurance today that my dad’s love overrules any other.  His is the only fatherly love I have ever known, even if he could not be there to protect me when I needed him. He is the person I miss day and night when he is not around.
Whenever he comes home from the interior I would get extremely worried when he returns home late.
I just cannot sleep without knowing whether he is safe. At nights when I go to bed I won’t pray for myself. I would pray for the health and well being of my dad and grandma. Their safety is my greatest regard. I don’t care if their love vanishes. I just care that they are alright because no matter what, they would always have my love…even if in my grandma’s case that doesn’t mean a lot.

MY CHILDHOOD
My childhood wasn’t a normal one but not knowing anything different it seemed ok. But there came a time when things happened and there were breaking points when I thought that I was going insane and that there wasn’t a God.
I never saw my biological dad and it did hurt a lot knowing that there was a possibility of passing him on the road and not knowing it was indeed him.
Many times in school there were parents’ meetings and there was no one who would turn up for me. I felt so alone at these times and that’s where the salt dissolved in the open wounds.
My grandma had a really hard life and had to put up with an alcoholic dad, as well as an alcoholic husband. She suffered so much battery from these two that left scars on her body.
She never had the chance of an education. She was brought up in the “country area” where she had to look after cattle and do domestic chores all her life. In that society, girls who barely reached their teenage years would be married to much older men and have to bear all the burdens of raising children and taking care of everyone, even the animals.  When her husband died, my dad gave her a better life.
Because of the need for material things, my mom found a way to get an easier edge in life, which turned out to be a thrill for her. She doesn’t care what she had to do, even if it means giving up her body to different men from different walks of life for a few dollars so that she can satisfy her desires.
For her education seemed too long a journey. Why go the long way when there is a shorter way out? But had she stopped skulking from school and taken the long hard road towards success, her life would have been sweeter and she could have walked with her head held high.
My dad would protect me from any danger, but there were some that were penetrable through his shield. Because he was not a child molester he could not see the signs, and I was too afraid to tell him whenever he returned home.
As far as I can recall I was touched in ways I knew was wrong. I was first a victim of my half-brother’s father. My dad was not around, but he had forbidden my grandma to take me to my mom’s home, but she did anyway. I remembered exactly what happened. My half-brother’s father was babysitting me and my brother while my mom and grandma left for the market. This was the first time a man had unzipped my pants and played with my vagina. I knew something was wrong but I didn’t tell.
As the years went by my mom hooked up with another man who soon became my half-sister’s father. He was the worse of them all. I was in primary school at that time. My grandma would send me to my mom to help look after my little sister and brother since I was the eldest. I was frequently forced to skip school and lie to my dad that I didn’t when he came home. Although my mom had a man living in her house (note I didn’t call it a home) she would still have to go late hours selling her body for money to take care of the man and two children.
Those nights when she wasn’t there were my worst. My half- brother and I used to share the same bed. The man used to come in between us and tell my brother to turn his back and shut his eyes. He would then take off my clothes and play with my body. I can’t recall if there was penetration from his penis but there was from his fingers. This went on for years and I couldn’t tell anyone, not even my dad.
My grandma and dad separated because of my mom and he began to live upstairs while grandma stayed downstairs. I chose to live with him, staying alone when he left to go into the interior because I did not want my grandma to take me to my mom’s house anymore.
I was happy that I was not forced to go at my mom. Everything changed for the best. I may have grown away from my grandma, although she never left my heart, but my love for my dad has grown even stronger. No one can ever take his place in my heart.
As I got older, I gained wisdom and gathered strength. I was all for my dad and against the world. My love for him was so strong. If he had murdered someone and all the evidence is there right in front of me and he tells me that he didn’t do it I would believe him and fight with my last breath for him.
I guess my mother saw the love that my dad had for me and there was a jealousy brewing in her heart, so she tried ways of breaking a bond that wasn’t man-made.
She even went to the point of accusing him of having an affair with me but her schemes were unsuccessful and her hatred developed further.
My grandma knew better but she always sided with my mom, a betrayal which tortured. Times went by and I struggled alone to study and finally passed my CXC exams, after much abusive words from my mom and grandma that tortured me while I tried to study. But I proved them wrong.
To see the smile on my dad’s face the day I collected my results was my greatest accomplishment. My mom then tried to become familiar with me but I disliked it. I just couldn’t stand her behaviour, nor did I want anyone to know that my mom was a prostitute. When friends seemed to notice the absence of my parents at some meetings, I would say “my mom died a long time ago and my dad is not around”. 
I had grown up with the mind-frame that all men, except my dad, are evil and I never really loved any boyfriend I had. But then I met my boyfriend Marlon whose wonderful family accepted me – past, flaws and all. They gave me a reason to see life differently and I am forever grateful to have them in my life.
I started working at K&B Mining Company in October, 2010. I had loved my job because it was walking distance away from my home and I just had to take orders from my boss. I was praised for my work because of my creativity. I also enrolled at UG.
While walking toward my home one afternoon I met ‘Neal’. I had known him way before because he knew my mom and he lives nearby. A few afternoons I would see him and we would talk while I walked. He happened to be in his 30’s with two kids so I didn’t think it was a big deal to take advice from someone whom I considered a mature adult. He would call every once in a while to talk about life. I never knew he had other intentions.
One evening, I was invited to a show at the Natural Cultural Centre with my boyfriend and his family, which I happily agreed to. It was one of my most enjoyable and memorable nights. It was around midnight when Marlon had dropped me to the head of my street. We stayed and talked, then kissed.
With happy thoughts in my head I was heading home from UG one evening when I saw ‘Neal’. He came and rode alongside of me, saying that he was following me through the street so that no one would ‘trouble me’. So, feeling safe, I agreed. As we neared the ‘middle dam’, he said he had something to show me.
Out of curiosity I wanted to see what it was. He reached into his pocket and took out a chunk of money in a rubber band. He then reached into the grass and retrieved a bag saying it had 24 million, which seemed extremely improbable, and that he would give me whatever I wanted if I would make him ‘happy’. 
I was shocked and refused angrily, whereupon, he braced me on the post and started kissing me. I pushed him away somehow and managed to tell him I was not interested in what he had in mind and that I have a boyfriend whom I dearly love.
I thought that was the end but as I was returning home from late classes the following Thursday, I realized someone was riding or walking stealthily behind me while I was texting my best friend.
In an instant I felt a sudden jolt, my heart started racing as I turned to see ‘Neal’ with a knife. He placed it against my ribs, telling me to “shut up and walk”. I did as I was told, I felt the urge to faint and my body temperature had suddenly become heated with beads of sweat racing down my face and spine.
As we neared the ‘middle dam’ he kept saying he loved me and always had his eyes on me. I begged him to let me go. He told me to “shut up” and he kept on saying that he wanted to make me happy and give me the world.
He started to kiss me; I was in such a state of disgust that I wanted to vomit. He kept the knife to my waist and stripped me, then began sucking my breasts. Tears welled up in my eyes and I begged him to stop. He started to unzip my pants although I begged him not to. I kept telling him I was having my period and I can’t have sex because of that, nor can I do it in that atmosphere. To convince him to let me go I promised him I would go to a hotel with him the following week when my period was over.
I kept on begging, asking him to trust me. He molested me with his fingers although I kept begging. He finally let go saying that he was just checking to see if I was lying and since I was not he felt that he could trust me.
He kept saying he didn’t want anything for free and that he wanted to pay me to be with him. He said if I didn’t stick to my word or if I go to the police he would harm my grandma because many nights she comes home late from her friend.
Also, he would set up men to damage my mom since she is out late in the nights. He then let me go with that warning. With wobbly feet I raced home, locked my door and began to cry. I felt miserable because I couldn’t share my pain or fear with anyone. I was alone. I tried keeping myself busy with my dancing classes. I vented out my anger and frustration into music to calm my soul.
A friend in whom I had confided advised that my best option was to go to the police and I agreed.
She accompanied me to the station and I gave my statement. They called my mother but she exploded and blamed me for everything, saying that she wanted no part of it. She said that she was not responsible for anything that happens to me.
She said I only want to bring shame on her. I was terribly hurt at her words. I went into my backyard and started to cry. Only my dog could understand what I was going through. I called Marlon and told him everything. I even told him that he would have to make a life without me.

He spoke to his mother and she advised me what to do; then a few minutes after he came to get me and I left with him.  Afterwards, Marlon’s very influential family dealt with Neal, who has not even looked in my direction since then.

(Although I told Nalini’s story largely the way she told me, I left out the more horrifying parts of this story in an effort to protect Nalini and to prevent anyone from recognizing her from this article. Protective legislation has been passed, but only God knows how many more ‘Nalinis’ there are out there.  Also her ‘dad’ needs a medal for giving purpose and direction to the life of a child who had been bereft of family and protection; and the fact that, despite her many terrible experiences, she continues to make right choices and walk self-enhancement paths that makes her a very special person. She is a youth icon, and it is not difficult to imagine the powerful woman she would one day become.)

PULL QUOTE:
‘People look with raised eyebrows when they see my grandfather and I in public together, and witness the love we share, because he is of African descent and I am of Indian descent and we share no blood ties, but our love for each other is beautiful and transcendental.’

PULL QUOTE:
Because of the need for material things, my mom found a way to get an easier edge in life, which turned out to be a thrill for her. She doesn’t care what she had to do, even if it means giving up her body to different men from different walks of life for a few dollars so that she can satisfy her desires.

PULL QUOTE:
I felt miserable because I couldn’t share my pain or fear with anyone. I was alone. I tried keeping myself busy with my dancing classes. I vented out my anger and frustration into music to calm my soul.