STAYING by my granny with my little brother one weekend, I was called by granny to the bathroom and told to get ready to bathe. As she went to get a towel, I began to take my clothes off. When she came back she picked up the bowl from the pail of water and began pouring water over me while I soaped up my skin.
I turned as she took the rag from me to rub my back, my bottom and legs, then as I turned back to face her she pointed to my privates and said, ‘Never let anyone touch you there, you hear me, you alone must wash ‘there’’ and if anyone ever try to trouble you there, you tell them ‘No!’, you scream, you fight, you run, you hear me?’ I’m serious… You understand? I looked at granny and nodded ‘yes,’ but I was confused. Why was granny telling me this now? Uncle Ronnie touched me there many times and he told me not tell anybody. Uncle Ronnie said I was a nice girl: he gave me candy floss and sweet drink. He told me he would bring popcorn and chocolate for me next time, as long as I never told anyone what he had done.
The sexual abuse happened when I was six years old and now I am 17. Looking at me on the outside, you’d never guess what’s going on, on the inside because I go to school, I get reasonable grades, I do my homework and chores and get by like every other girl my age. But I am different from every other girl of my age: psychologically, I will never be the same because I cannot forget the trauma of being sexually abused as a child. Those memories make me feel used and unworthy and like all memories, they play in my head when I least expect them, causing me pain and sorrow.
A grown man sexually abused me. He took advantage of a small innocent child. He used me in his sick way for his own gratification. It’s unfair for any grown adult to use a child in that way. Granny, who I live with now, gave me good advice back then, but it came too late, the damage had already been done. After I told her what Uncle Ronnie had done to me, she called the Child Protection Service and my brother and I were taken into care. Uncle Ronnie, who was my mother’s boyfriend, was arrested and the matter went to court.
During the preceding years, I had to tell the ‘court people’ what Uncle Ronnie did, over and over again, I felt dirty and bad. I was growing and that whole ugly part of my life was growing with me. I heard stories about the support my mother was giving to Uncle Ronnie during the time he was held by the police. Like visiting him and taking him food and money. But the one time I’d seen her, early on in the affair, she’d whispered to me ‘Keep yuh mouth shut, don’t tell dem anything.’
Apart from the burden of having an irresponsible mother, whom I barely see, and the recurring memories of the sexual abuse and the psychological side effects, there are two things that really eat at my soul. One: will I ever get married? Will any man want me because of my past? And two: where is Uncle Ronnie now and who else is he sexually abusing? He did not get convicted for his crime against me and my mother has moved on with a new man in her life. So Uncle Ronnie is out there, somewhere, walking around free to interfere with another innocent child.
I feel I should alert single mothers to be cautious about the people they bring into their homes. Sometimes it’s better to be safe and live alone with your children, than sleep with and leave your children around someone who might be ‘Uncle Ronnie.’
If you are concerned about the welfare of a child, you can ring the CPA hotline on 227 0979 or email chilcaregy@gmail.co
A Message from the Childcare and Protection Agency, Ministry of Social Protection