(names have been changed to protect identity)
‘Is wha’ wrong with this child?’ My mother pushed me and I fell to the floor. ‘Get up!’ she yelled, as she hastily got out of the chair where she was sitting, grabbing at my throat, pulling me close. My heart pounded with fear; my body felt weak. I felt her breath on my face as her wide, piercing eyes met mine, ‘If… I…say… yuh going by Trevor and May that is where yuh going, yuh hear me?’. And with a final shove she pushed passed me and went to gather her things for work.

It took a lot of courage for me to tell her that I didn’t like going to Trevor and May, I knew she would get angry, but I had to tell someone. At ten years old I didn’t have many friends and we had no relatives living nearby so Uncle Trevor and Aunty May, as I was told to call them, were the people my mother left me with, while she worked at the weekends.
This had been going on for 4 months and I was feeling unsafe and unhappy at their home. Every Friday, I would begin to feel sad. This made me argue with the children at school and get in trouble with the Teachers; that was my pattern. Then I would take my time going home because I knew tomorrow was Saturday and mum would take me to Uncle Trevor and Aunty May’s house again and I hated it.

My mum was an overpowering woman who never listened to me or asked me important questions. She got on well with all her friends on her cell phone but as far as I could tell she never understood how I felt. I used to think she doesn’t understand because we are different, she is a woman and I am a boy, but as I grew older I realised, it wasn’t the difference in our sexes. The fact was mum just looked at me as her son, who simply had to do as he was told. She never thought about looking inside of me and checking me out as a person. For instance, she never checked out what I was thinking or feeling about anything or even if I had an opinion about different situations.

Our relationship consisted of me saying mostly…’No mummy, yes mummy, alright mummy’. Punctuated by her pushing me or slapping me; making some threats; shouting a few cuss words and sometimes bullying me. You might question, how can an adult bully a child? She is the adult and the child must do as he is told. Yes, children should do as they are told, within reason. But my mother forced me to do things against my better judgement. I had plucked up enough courage to say… I don’t like going to Trevor and May’s house… and still she bullied me into going; she failed me. She failed me because true to her character, she didn’t even have the notion to ask me why.

I grew up suppressing what I felt inside instead of expressing what I was going through. And what I was going through felt wrong, it made me uncomfortable, sad and angry. It was too much for a little boy to deal with and yet I carried it around with me every day. You see when I first stayed at Trevor and May they were kind and everything was alright. I could watch as much television as I liked and they fed me well. Trevor liked playing computer games and football so we played indoors and sometimes outside in the yard. May made channa for us and we watched movies in the evenings. Sometimes mum would pick me up late about 10 o clock or sometimes I would sleep over if she worked an extra shift.

One night while sleeping over in their spare room I woke up with a stomach ache. Trevor and May were watching television in their room and I went to tell them. The door was slightly opened and I was about to knock when May saw me. I told her what was wrong and she called me into the room. When I saw what they were watching I knew straight away that it was not a programme for children so I kept my back to the television. Somehow my stomach ache felt better and I wanted to leave. But they insisted that I get into bed with them and allow Trevor to rub my stomach. After that, whenever I slept over, it became a regular thing for me to visit their room and watch ‘big people’ movies with May looking on, as Trevor touched me in different places. I hated it, it felt wrong but I had no one to tell, and no one to turn to.

One particular Friday at school I was being disruptive in class and was sent to the deputy headmaster as a punishment and it was he, Mr. Trotman who spoke to me sensitively, and worked out that something was wrong. He could see that I was trying to communicate to someone, anyone who could hear me; he picked up on my dilemma and was able to get me some help.

I am now in my twenties, at UG, studying social work and communications; I want to help children to be expressive and free. EVERY CHILD NEEDS SOMEONE THAT THEY CAN TRUST AND TALK TO; and I am saying that from personal experience.
If you are concerned about the welfare of a child call the CPA hotline on 227 0979 or write to us at childcaregy@gmail.com
A MESSAGE FROM THE CHILDCARE AND PROTECTION AGENCY,
MINISTRY OF SOCIAL PROTECTION