Please let me share this heartbreaking story with you. In a week of so much violence against women, this breaks my heart.
“I am a battered wife. My husband hurts me. He has been hurting me for years now and I just do not know what to do. It feels like I am trapped in this endless cycle of pain and fear. Actually, I think I might have learned to deal with the pain and fear. It is the hopelessness that gets me. I feel so hopeless, so powerless to do anything and there is no one that wants to help me.
This man promised to love me and promised to protect me. He promised to carry me on his hands and show the world that am I his sun and stars. He promised to care for me and look after me. This is the man who is now breaking me. This is the man who is giving me these bruises. But this man is an arsehole and not who I thought he was. He is who he is and I can’t change that. What hurt me more is my uncle.
I went to my uncle to ask for help. But let me tell you about my uncle. He has been a rock in my life since I was just a little girl. I did not have an easy childhood. My father was violent and a drunk and did not take care of us. My uncle always protected me. He has always fought for me to the point of getting rid of my oppressive father and freeing me from that tyranny. When I was rid of that evil from my life, I thought everything would be different. I thought I was free. And for a few years it was good. And then I got married to this man. My uncle chose him for me.
I’ve gone to my uncle, and told him that my husband is hurting me. I asked him for help to get rid of this man. At first he did not believe me. He did not see it. He did not want to see. I went to him again and again. I showed him the bruises. But he chose to believe the stories of that husband. He choose that man over me and listened to him rather than listening to me. I went to him again and again. I showed him more bruises. I shed tears on his shoulder. His shirt and his back was so wet from my tears. And still he tells me to go back to my husband. I have no hope left. I don’t know how to get out of this. I think he will kill me. My heart might be dead already.
If you tell my story to others, tell people my name. My name is South Africa. My uncle’s name is ANC. You know the name of my husband.
He is a good man, my uncle. He has done so much for me and I know he is a good man. Part of him is still good, but part of him thinks the embarrassment of me leaving this powerful man will be worse than the bruises he gives me.
I don’t know how I will survive this man…please help me. Please tell my story when I’m dead.”