CHAPTER 3

Micheal's tall and straight figure got closer and closer to Sarah. And then, without saying a word, he strode past Sarah.

It was hard to tell if Micheal's saw Sarah or just ignored her.

Regardless, Sarah noticed that the woman in his arms was the same one who had been photographed with

him yesterday.

She was Lauren.

Sarah's shoes felt like they were made of lead as she walked away.

She lost all awareness of her surroundings

Many terrible things happened in my childhood, but I remember none of it. It doesn’t exist in my memory

bank. I only know because, through the years, there have been pieces of conversations about it.

I find this scary that things might have happened in my childhood that I just don’t recall. But the thing with

trauma is that it resides within you. Your mind might choose not to remember, but your body will.

And so, occasionally, I have panic attacks that have no source. Or well, seem like they have no source, and I

can’t help but wonder where in my childhood the seeds of those panic attacks were planted.

Every time I come across a story of physical abuse, I freeze. I have a physical reaction to abuse whether the

harm was done toward me, to someone else in my presence or even to a character in a story.

I’m immobilised and I can feel a wall instantly spring up in my mind to protect me. My flight or fright is triggered and I always flee.

When I was young my mother took me to meetings. I think she was volunteering at those meetings. I

would sit right next to her and observe her address these people who were strangers to me.

My mother also always drummed this into my ears says Sarah : “If a man touches you anyhow, you jump

up and slap him!” I know she meant this about harassment. She taught at a secondary school and there

were always stories of young girls getting harassed.

I kid you not, she said this to my siblings and me so many times, that it became etched in my brain. She

did not say to scream, to shout for help, to run to her. She said if you feel threatened, you fight back! 

Over the years whenever women around me told stories of how they were physically abused or harassed

sexually, I felt anger and frustration when they said they didn’t do anything to the abuser. 

“Why didn’t you shout at him so that everybody on the bus would know he was touching your breast?!”

“Why didn’t you hit him right back when he hit you?” 

When you’ve not lived through certain experiences you would have solutions. But when you have, you

realize that sometimes the only reaction your body can offer to you is to freeze up.

But, I believe in normalizing these conversations. And if not for myself, then for someone out there who

might be going through some form of domestic violence. Someone who just needs a little reminder from a

stranger that they are not deserving of abuse.

We were living in the same house, but we were sleeping in different rooms.  and I didn’t think it wise to relay

this information to him in his room.

I make my way to the kitchen because I have a ton of medication to use and so I need to make some

breakfast. I’m weak and feeling lazy so I settle on plantains. I’m frying my plantains when he walks in.

“Why are you in the kitchen?”, he says.

I hear the anger in his voice and I, as usual, feel confusion.

“What do you mean why am I in the kitchen?”

“Do you want to give me your disease

”Shouldn’t you be isolating?”

I responded that yes, I should be isolating, but I also need to eat because I have meds to take.

And it begins.

He’s shouting at me to get out of the Kitchen His voice rose higher and higher and I decided to ignore him, focusing my energy on flipping the plantains over.

At this point, I’m staring at the plantain, watching it brown, but in my head, I’m wondering what to tell this man to get him to leave me alone.

I hate arguments. I hate shouting and I hate getting angry. I could feel the anger rising in my chest so, I decided to give up. I turn to him and tell him I’m done with the conversation.

I do what he wants and call for my cousin to finish frying the plantain and as I start walking back to the room, I can hear him still shouting at me, asking if it’s him I’m walking out on.

I turn around to face him. We’re now in the living room and he’s saying so many things I now cannot recall. But the statement my memory has refused to forget is him saying he will throw me out.

*further confusion*

 “You will throw me out dressed like this?!”

He says, “Yes I will!”

There’s more back and forth. We are both shouting now and I feel my fear shift back to intense anger.

I have always been terrified of intense anger. My hands start to tremble, my voice begins to quiver, and my

entire body is in a state of restlessness. I fear intense anger because I fear what it might make me do. So,

on the rare occasions that I feel intense anger, I detach. And that is what I try to do.

I take a deep breath, pause and tell him I’m done with the conversation.

I turn around and I know he is following me but I am determined not to engage. I can feel him right behind

me. Possibly two feet from me, and he follows me right into the bedroom. I’m irritated and so I turn around to ask why he is following me and a slap lands on my face.

I freeze.

The freezing was familiar.

But this time I did not freeze out of fear. I froze out of disbelief and denial.

He could not have slapped me.

That had to be a mistake.

That did not just happen to me.

I look directly at him and say in a clear voice, “Do you know you just slapped me?” and I feel another slap land on my right cheek.

This is when I lose it.

I am mad. Raving mad. It’s the angriest I have ever been in my life.

I have always imagined this moment. I have a thing where I imagine terrible scenarios and try to picture what my reaction would be and how I would navigate them.

Every time I pictured a man hitting me, my conclusion was - “I would rather die”. I knew physical abuse was a thing I could never let go of. I would fight back and then have you beat me until I die.

Or so I thought.

And so, I entered defence mode, and I began to hit him. I look down and realize my cousin is between us, and she is getting hit. And I’m jolted out of my intense anger.

“It’s enough!”, I shout.

He stops and walks out of the room. I slam the door shut behind him and lock it. Then I turn around and realize my cousin is not in the room with me.

“It’s not her he’s after”.

I sit on the bed, trembling. My anger has shifted back to fear.

Me, locking the door was out of fear.

I feel the tears coming and I stop.

This was not a time for tears.

It made no sense how the day had played out. A month or so before this day, we had a whole conversation about going our separate ways. I called my parents to let them know.

He had no reason to be taking out his anger on me if we were headed towards definite separation. He had no reason to hit me.

I grab my boxes and start packing. I’m in autopilot mode.

Somewhere in between the packing, I call my eldest sister, I call my mum, I call one of my best friends.

His parents call me.

An hour later, my mum is at my house and my brother is carrying my boxes down the stairs and into the

boot. Another few hours later, we all get home to my parents’ house and I begin to feel safe again.

Months after, I would go back to that moment and wonder why I froze at first. Why I refused to believe he

had just slapped me. The answer I would find is that I did not want to believe the man I chose to marry was

capable of hitting me. How blind to his character must I have been?

Sarah in deep thinking .

Is love supposed to turn bitter or get stronger.

Stay - if you believe the lies he spews from his mouth

In the moments right after, he might have believed it too

‘I’m sorry’,

‘I apologize’,

‘I would never hit you again.’

The first time he hits you - stay

For many reasons;

The kids

The fact that there were some good times

Stay - because what will people say?

Because where would you start from?

Stay - because your grandmother says it’s a man’s world

And women need to learn to be patient in these situations

Because marriage is a test and life is full of ups and downs

Stay- because he has money

Because you have not worked in years

Stay…

Not for yourself

For yourself…

you leave

I Am very particular about things like this. Domestic violence, abuse, social bias, marginalized groups. I’m more particular when it comes to women because historically women get the shorter end of the stick and sometimes it’s harder to visualize a way to a better life when you are going through abuse.

But, sometimes all a person needs is a bit of a push.