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Now I see the light
Lindiwe Ngoyai*
November 26, 2007

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I got married on the 26th of March 1973, after three years of living together with my boyfriend. In the beginning, we had more happy times than sad times. One day the relationship took a wrong turn. I spent many years trying so hard to please the man in my life at the expense of my own happiness. On the contrary, my husband did not go out of his way to understand me.

He had no clue as to what I liked or disliked. I also did not take it upon myself to inform him or express myself about anything because I was scared of him. I would do anything to please him, for the sake of peace in our home.

During weekends he would get drunk, come back home and start a fight, if not with me then it would be the children. We would scream and the neighbours would hear it but did not offer any help. They were also afraid of him, as he would threaten to sue them. As a person conversant with the legal system, he was aware of the loopholes and would use these to his advantage. He could start a fight but rush to report to the police before any one could.

At some point, I got tired of the abuse and pretending to be happy. He did not understand the sudden change of my behaviour so he started accusing my relatives and friends for influencing me. As a result, he stopped me from visiting my relatives and friends. He allowed no visitors to enter my yard and instructed to keep the gates locked every day without fail. . My home became a prison.

I was so isolated to the extent that I could not even attend my cousin's funeral in Carltonville. Instead, he went and demanded the grave number so that he could take me there at his own time. When a cousin-in-law politely asked him to take me to the grave site he refused and had the guts to come back and relate the story.

As time went by, he started leaving for days without telling me where he was going. I would remain with our four children with nothing to feed them. I felt lonely and rejected. I related my story to the church and they maintained us. At that time, there was no sign of hope and all I had was the piercing pain in my heart. I found strength in God and that with him nothing is impossible; he would rescue me one day.

My husband would disappear for days and then appear from time to time to check if I am still living alone with the children. It was difficult for me to explain to my children his whereabouts, for they were young but I managed to lie. I told them that he was working over time in various countries.

Since the children were also not allowed to play outside the yard, other children by mocked them. They would laugh at them saying that they were like animals in a cage. This affected them to the extent that they ended up fighting those who mocked them, even if it meant jumping over the fence just to fight back. When they saw their father's car approaching, they would start climbing the fence like spiders to get back to the house. In some instances he caught them and beat them with a belt for getting out of the yard.

After beating up the children, he would open the gate and beat me for letting them go out. He never even cared to ask for the reason why they were out of the yard. For him it was a way of expressing his manhood. What was even more frustrating was that after beating up the children a few minutes later he would change his mood and start playing with the children and talking to us as if nothing happened. He expected us to adjust to his moods to suit him.

I lost hope. I felt absolutely alone and a failure for not being able to protect my children. I did not have anyone to turn to. I decided to escape with two of my children from Johannesburg to Eastern Cape leaving the older one behind. This haunted me and started having bad dreams including hallucinations.

Each time I heard a sound of a car similar to his, I would run to peep through the window even though he was far away. I felt terrified and it became worse when he summoned my family to send me back within two days or I will regret the day I met him. To avoid further confrontation I went back home. I kept reminding myself that I needed to be strong and face the challenges.

In 1985, he left our home. For seven years, he only came around when he felt like beating us. In 1992, he decided to come back, not because he regretted his deeds but to finish us off. Unwittingly I welcomed him thinking he had reformed.

To start with, he persuaded me into selling the house promising to buy us a plot elsewhere. The first transaction failed but he later managed to sell the house without my knowledge. I only got to know a few days later after his departure when a sheriff delivered a letter to inform us to be out of the house in the next few months.

In his absence, I lost two of my children. My husband abused me and as a result I suffered from depression. A friend of mine then suggested that I should go to People Opposing Women Abuse (POWA) for counselling because she had found them before when she faced a similar situation.

It took me 37 years to realise that I had opted for the wrong choice, but I am grateful that I finally saw the light. My husband did not want to see me progressing in my life. He preferred to see me as a stagnant house wife and yet I am a woman with multiple talents. Today I am a proud woman and thank God for my friend and POWA for their support and believing in me.

* not her real name

This story is part of the I Stories series produced by the Gender Links Opinion and Commentary Service for the Sixteen Days of Activism on Gender Violence.

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