The Lady Who Took My Self-Esteem

My father got into an accident on Christmas Eve in 2007, which was a turning point not just in my family but also in my life. One uncle came over to get me and he looked so wealthy, giving off such a strong vibe of being rich. He had a broad, friendly smile and spoke to me softly, saying, "I am your father's brother and you are my son; I will take good care of you." I trusted him and was eager to have a better life wherever he was going to take me.

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My uncle was indeed a father figure to me, however, his wife treated me like an abandoned cat. During my whole life, I always perceived myself as a fighter. I remained optimistic despite the hardships in my family. Unfortunately, my uncle's wife took that child's belief away from me.

Slowly but surely, she broke my will. I totally lost my sense of identity and of being worthy. In her opinion, I was worthless and she kept…

My uncle worked as a contractor and was often away from home; at times, he would be gone for an entire year. His wife would be the one to take care of me, and she was so clear that I wasn’t welcome in their family. It was like a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

Among all her punishments, the worst was not letting me eat. The situation escalated to a point where I got ulcers, and I couldn’t eat because the pain was so severe. There were times when I wouldn’t eat at all. Though I was in pain, she didn’t care and wouldn’t offer me food but would instead accuse me of eating the neighbor's food and that was why I do not eat hers.

She was against anyone who came forward to help me as if she was drawing energy from my suffering.

When I got to JHS 2, my school uniform was in such poor condition that I asked a graduating senior for one to borrow. My uncle’s wife was very angry when she saw it, yelling and demanding I give it back. My shorts, on the other hand, were so badly worn that even the tailors could not help anymore.

Not only did she abuse me but also she went further and turned our neighbors against me. They would snitch on me for every little thing I did, whether it was true or not, and she never wanted to hear my version. She would simply punish me. She even started to hit me on the head with a stick, saying that my brain was too dull and needed to be activated. If I cried, she would give me a harder hit and say, “I don’t want to see a single tear drop from your eyes.”

My only refuge was the church and school. I hated weekends and holidays because of what I had to endure at home.

After my BECE, I worked for four months, and then she took all my money. When the results were out and I asked for my share, she said she had spent it on her sick daughter’s medicine. That was how I lost all my earnings.

Her most unbearable quality was her hypocritical ability to pretend innocence when others told stories similar to her mistreatment. She was able to play “Holy Mary” so well that nobody doubted her true character.

Though an adult now with a good job, I should be happy but I know I am not complete. That woman has robbed me of something no amount of money can restore my self-confidence.

I was the quiz kid of my class in school but later gave it up due to my body odor problem, which made me the target of taunts from my peers. I used to camouflage by wearing different shoes and uniforms just to be in the game, but the mockery pushed me away. Occasionally, I think to myself if someone had seen me and acted, wouldn't my story be different?

Still, the weight of her hurt has not been lifted from me. I do not harbor any anger towards her, but at the same time, I can't help but think: Why women are almost always the ones who play the most wicked parts in the children’s upbringing?

—Alfred

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