It was too early for a child of eight to rise to fetch water from the distant river. At about 6 a:m, an angry father came to the place where Desalegn was sleeping on a bare floor with no proper bedclothes except a piece of rug-like cloth that partially covered his body. Within a second of arriving at the place, the father shook him hard shouting, “Get up! You bloody fool! Put on your clothes, go fetch water at once! Are you going to lie there the whole day?”
As the boy was fast asleep, fortunately he did not hear a word of what his father was saying. It was good for him for not been subjected to psychological infliction caused his by his father’s uncontrolled emotion, at least at that moment of utter desperation. It was a time when everybody wishes to stay in bed let alone a child of eight years old. At that early hour of the day, Desalegn should not have been required to undertake the task, a task difficult even for the grownups at that most comforting time.
Noticing the child’s inability to respond, not deliberately though, he rushed to a place where he usually kept the whip and came back and delivered two lashes inflicting stinging pain the child could not bear. In the middle of the pain, he was struggling to get up to his feet, yet could not do it. The third lash came down on him like a thunderbolt from the sky. Powerless to resist, he fell back on the floor where he was sleeping with no one to come for his rescue and remained there motionless only his shriek filled the house upon which his mother involuntarily rushed to the scene half awake. Having seen Desalegn lying on his belly on the floor, she loudly cried while her tears were profusely rolling down her cheeks.
Desalegn, as he did not have the time to put on his tattered clothes, which he most of the time wore day and night; he was lying there half-naked with two visible deep stripes on his tender skin on his back. The stinging pain inflicted by the whip lashes was appalling; the helpless child, without his will was born into this wretched world only to suffer. He was at the mercy of his parents who had little compassion. He did not have the strength or the gut to stand up for his rights on his own; he had no time and strength to escape the atrocious situation at that moment. The crying did not relieve his pain nor did it attract sympathy from others.
Having observed the heart-breaking condition of her son, his mother out of uncontrollable emotion, charged to her husband’s throat only to fling back by the box delivered on her face and she too, fell on the ground. Although dizzy, she could feel blood oozing out from her nose, split lips and mouth.
Ibrahim, the father, exhibited little sympathy and consideration for what had happened to his son and his “beloved” wife. The prevalent male chauvinism in the community has placed him in a position to win the case whatsoever. The judiciary system of the society favors men. However guilty he is declared, the man is considered the hub of the social wheel, whereas women and children are simply pegs; in its severest case, they are the property of the husband like domestic animals. He claims the absolute right of ownership.
Somehow, in spite of her husband’s mercilessness, she, mustered her strength, got up to her feet. Looking over her shoulder anticipating another attack by her husband, advanced to where her son Desalegn was lying. “Desalegn! Desalegn!” she called out loudly to which the child somehow responded. He stretched out his hands begging for help and to take him away from the horrid circumstance.
She took him into her fold where he buried his head in her breast. In the middle of her sobbing, she said, “Are you hurt? Everything will be alright; don’t worry, I will fix your favorite breakfast,” and carried him to her bedroom but her husband simply gazed at her.
Desalegn’s brothers and sisters from Asfaw’s late wife, who were rather hiding, gathered around Desalegn to see what had happened to him; they believed some day the same thing would happen to them, too.
“Why does my father treat me if I were his servant? Am I not his son? I did nothing to deserve such a cruel punishment.”
“Men in our society, care less for their children and their wives.”
“Are we not part of them? For instance, he should have sent me to school like my friends’ parents do. He scolds me; beats me; he always wants me to fetch water and herd the goats and the camels,” he bitterly cried.
“Don’t worry my son; I will care for you as much as I can. About education, there are no schools nearby. Everywhere in our society, parents don’t want to send their children to school as your father does not either.’
For fear of the sudden arrival of her husband to her hut, she rushed to the kitchen to make sorghum porridge for her son and soon came back with full bowl and put it before Ibrahim to eat it; having realized his mother’s fear he quickly ate and pushed away the plate.
No sooner than he did that, his father entered the hut, charged to Ibrahim. Grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out of the hut yelling at him. Ibrahim, out of fear was trembling, begging his father not to lash him with the whip again. His mother stood at the door of her hut anticipating what would happen next.
“My father! Please, have mercy on me; I have done nothing wrong. Since I was fast asleep I did not hear what you said. I did not mean to disobey you. . Please have mercy on me.” despite his son’s plea, the father whipped him on the head and shoulder that sent the boy down. He left the scene while the boy remained there groaning.
Making sure that her husband was too far to see what would happen to the boy, she came to where her son was and pulled him up by the hand and took him to her hut and dressed his wounds. The boy was shivering and was in a mild seizure. She decided to stop such a heinous act once and for all. She didn’t want to leave the problem there; she went to the community elder to file her complaints.
He bluntly said, “Well, such things are not new to our community; a father has the right to discipline his children. If he doesn’t, who else should do it?” This ignited her fury and she turned around without even saying, thank you. This did not deter her from further search. She confided it to a person she thought would share her problem and come up with some kind of solution. Here, to her surprise, her efforts were in futile.
“I’m sorry. I would have liked to help you. But people here are so backward and they don’t flinch from the dictates of the culture. No matter how hard you try, justice cannot be served for such offenses.” Her last option was to go home and shed her tears.
These communities, most of them live in a one-room hut built from sticks and straws and covered by plastic and tarpaulin. In this community one person can have two or three wives if he is able to provide for all; thus, each wife is entitled to a house for her and her children. Each wife is expected to build her own hut.
Like any other child in the community, Desalegn was born into this culture where children are not well taken care of; they struggle with nature that seemingly cares for them better than the parents, particularly the fathers. Nature to the children is a place where they run to when the trouble-filled home cannot accommodate them.
Starting from the day when his father brutally treated him, Desalegn, at sundry times, fled to the wilderness even if it was at the risk of being attacked by animals; fortunately nothing had happened to him ever. In fact the solace he found there was immeasurable. Nevertheless, every time he came back home, the father would do one thing or another to him. As he was growing older and stronger, the situation did not bother him very much.
While physical abuse might be the most visible, other abuses such as emotional abuse and neglect are equally shared by all children including Desalegn. One day while the children in the neighborhood were playing together, the issue of the harsh treatment by their parents was raised, “My father, I think doesn’t love me.
He always beats me up and scolds me for nothing,” said Desalegn. All agreed to what he said. One of them said, “I share your idea. I don’t remember the time my father spoke to me lovingly. He is always angry, he doesn’t take me to the clinic when fall ill. He doesn’t buy me anything and I wear these tattered clothes day and night. Altogether, he doesn’t care about me. I don’t know what will happen to me when I grow up.”
“Well,” said another boy, “I don’t understand why our parents don’t send us to school. Is it because they want us to remain as goat, cattle and camel herders?”
“More than the physical abuse like beatings and in the process, breaking bones when the situation gets hard, what they say and how they discourage us in everything we say and do, harms us severely. As for one, I don’t have confidence in everything I do. I always look for someone to come to my assistance.”
“You are right,” said another boy, “I feel like running away and take my chances to change my life or die trying. There’s nothing worse than living in this condition. ”
Desalegn shot up his hand and bitterly said, “Do you know what I’ve been through the whole of my life? If I showed you the scars on my back, you would all run away for fear that the same thing would happen to you.”
Desalegn, until the day he ran away to be free from his father’s harsh treatment, he had been suffering from the abuse inflicted upon him; when he left, his mother did not dissuade him from the step he took. She knew that he was looked down upon and was treated less than a dog. He never felt a loved child; he was nothing in the eyes of his father. At last he was liberated. Of all things, love is crucial in the growth of a child. Desalegn virtually missed that.
The Ethiopian Herald Sunday Edition 6 October 2019
BY JOSEPH SOBOKA
