I awake early, at 5:30 and the cold air rushes through me as I lift my blanket to pack up and clean the area where I spend most of my time. Just before the first faces of people who I now know and sometimes greet start walking through the avenue, I sit and meditate. I sit and spiritual call upon the Jehovah to come within me and lead me into grace and not let me yield away from the foundation or the creator, whom I recreate in the flesh.
I was gang raped when I was 18 by neighbourhood boys that I grow up with. They invited me for drinks late one evening, as one of them had just came from the bush and was now a man. As I refused to be a victim of their evil acts, that was the beginning of my spirituality.
I continued with life and was faced with another attack a few months later. This time it was from my mother’s husband. I have sixteen stitches on my head from when he stormed into my room as I was sleeping, yelling at me for leaving bread crumbs in the kitchen. He beat me with a wooden table stand that left me bleeding. Later, he said that my being a lesbian disgusted him and that was the reason he did what he did.I went and opened a case against him. I didn’t go through with it after a family meeting was held, and everyone felt it was best that I didn’t get him arrested.