My eldest son contributed hugely to my healing with his wise words and helping me to change my perspective - love you 'munchkin' always, always...
This is another piece of writing from Dancing with the Devil - Breaking chains of childhood sexual abuse:
As we were pushed back into our seats and the wheels left the tarmac to deliver us up towards the clouds, I knew for certain I’d made the right decision in leaving South Africa and returning to London with my six year old son, Wolf. I stared down at his little hand in mine and smiled feeling unconditional love. My free hand protectively landed on the bump where my ‘Little Miracle’ was growing every day. I’d already chosen his name and we couldn’t wait to welcome him into our world.
I left South Africa only with our packed suitcase, a hundred Great British Pounds and no fear! The need to escape South Africa was so intense and so great that I did not think further than my next move…..seven months pregnant and a six year old…another unknown. I now understand the meaning of ‘Blind Faith’, and I know that the boys and I were so blessed!
The boys dad met us at Heathrow, even though we were separated. We stayed at the house that he shared with his brother. Neither of them lived there for the time we were there trying to get our footing. Snapshots of those days in Southwest London are not faded sepia, but rather exotic colours depicting love, laughter and hope. We had no material worth but we had abundance in having each other, and this unity helped us move forward.
The perfectly in-tune chirping outside the window forced my eyes open. I yawned as I watched dust particles dancing in the light peeking through. My stomach leapt like a ballerina flying through the air in aligned synchronicity with the dust particles. As I stretched, I watched Wolf sleep, curled up beside me. At such a young age he was an 'old' soul, a wise soul. The ballerina in my stomach performed a ‘Swan Lake’ leap of undying love and I smiled.
Four weeks raced by smoothly between school runs, work and strategically placing our wet laundry over all the radiators scattered throughout the house, before bedtime, to be dry and ready for another dawning day. I felt as if I’d never left London. I registered Wolf at Penwortham Primary, landed myself a job at Wandsworth Council and we moved into our own apartment. It was nothing to write home about but it was ours! It was a tiny one bedroom ‘box’ on Streatham High Road situated above a Somalian Club which I, to this day, never knew of what went on there. I’d only seen men huddled by the door chewing some or other root or bark, which I heard made them ‘high’. We never had trouble, other than our doorbell ringing persistently to find there was no answer on the other side of the security intercom. Thank God for that intercom because there would be no way in Hell that I’d make it down the ‘Kilimanjaro’ flight of stairs from our front door and down to the building's main door, only to find nobody there. It was like a damn half day hike, steep and precarious!
At eight months pregnant I had unbelievable energy. My bump never slowed me down. Although money was tight I’d opted for Wolf to have paid dinners at school so I was off the hook having to make school lunches. I never did take to cooking, even hated thinking about food, hang ups borne from my childhood which created a rocky, toxic relationship.
I stood in the school courtyard watching as all the kids bustled about to get inline ready to be marched one by one through the main doors offering these kids the World through Education. Off they all went with matching maroon book-bags swinging back and forth. I watched until the last book-bag had disappeared into the mouth of words and knowledge promising success.
I’d found a ‘for sale’ advertisement for a beautiful white cot which I could afford. So the next morning Wolf and I set off to find the address. The sun was shining and we felt relaxed. My geography is shocking! So we ended up walking in circles in a relatively nice suburb and giggling. Eventually we stood before a house. We both agreed that this must be it! We waited with anticipation as we rang the doorbell. A lady opened the door and it was established that we were at the correct address. She led us to her little girl’s bedroom and showed us the cot. As we got talking I learnt that she was also from South Africa and her husband was English. When our chat ended, I handed the money over but so hadn't thought this through, having no way to actually get the cot home. She offered for her husband to deliver the cot to us the next day, which became another blow to my heart. After her husband put the cot together for me, he leaned in and kissed me, tongue and all, and handed me his business card stating if I needed anything at all to call him. I froze. My heart sank. I felt sorry for his wife who had thrown in some freebies - a lovely white and red baby bath and some toys, which I was extremely grateful for. I shoved him out the door struggling to breath….more than ever, I did not trust men, as all they’d ever shown me was deception and hurt.
Wolf and I had picked up some amazing treasures from an Op Shop along Streatham High road. We bought a yellow and orange cot bumper set and a cot mobile with little chickens dangling free to announce their cock-a-doodle-doos. I let Wolf choose something for himself too, telling him what a big boy he is. He wandered around thoughtfully, his little eyes taking it all in. Time and time again he came back to one particular shelf. I watched him, smiling. He lifted what he wanted off the shelf. It was a stuffed toy of E.T. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I'm certain now that he felt an indescribable connection with this extraterrestrial creature, even then.
He’s always been spiritual. One time when he was older, he woke up in the morning and told me that there was a lady in his room last night. I looked at him not sure what to think. He went on to tell me that she was holding a small child and she said to him “please keep my baby warm”. He never questioned it. He pulled the covers back and the woman put her baby down next to him. He made sure the baby was warmly tucked in and went back to sleep. Another time, he was startled awake to that excruciating sound of fingernails being drawn across a blackboard. He instantly felt dark ominous energy lurking. When he looked at the window there were hand prints and scratch marks reflecting against the glass. He shuddered and it took him ages to find the courage to sprint from his room to wake me.
Wolf and I grew more and more excited to welcome our 'Little Miracle' into our world. We knew that he’d love it here with our love and laughter and we never dreamed this would change. I messed up and it did change because I’d ignored my intuition too many times along different paths of my Journey.
That evening Wolf sat on the kitchen counter with E.T. leaning against the microwave, legs dangling, while he animatedly told me about his day. Our laughter echoed in the tiny room, the echo playing it’s own melody. Then something scurrying behind him caught my attention. I jumped into action! I swung him off the counter with one arm, E.T. went flying and his eyes went big like saucers as he caught his balance and watched me lift one side of the microwave and gasp! We had boarders who weren’t paying rent! An entire family of mice camping out! We both burst out laughing. I didn’t have the heart to put them out in the cold, so they stayed rent-free for a while longer. The thing is…..they told their mates how good they had it, and dozens more pulled in to camp out. Eventually they were taking over!
They moved from the kitchen to the bedroom and made themselves comfortable gnawing chunks out of our clothes to decorate their own bedrooms. I envisioned myself waking up without a toe! I had to do something! I was a South African dammit! We always knew how to make a plan. Eventually I mastered the art of first opening the rickety old lounge window of the open-plan room, then striding with intention to the microwave, catching the rascals one at a time, then running the three steps back to the window praying that the damn thing would hold and not come down chopping my hand off. I flung the rascals into ‘Paradise’ straight onto Streatham High Road. I didn’t have time to think about the injustice of this - I was protecting my babies, and our clothes. We couldn’t afford any new ones.
Years and years later when Wolf was about eighteen, we had another encounter with a mouse in Australia. A different house, a different room, same laughter. I was sitting in the lounge watching tellie when Wolf’s voice cut through my concentration shouting “Mom! Mom!”. I jumped up not knowing what I was going to find. Watching from his bedroom door I thought he’d become delusional. The image I saw was him running from one side of the room to the other, jumping over his double bed with ease like a hurdle champion at the Olympics, and then abruptly changing direction, all the time his eyes on something. All he managed between gasping breaths was “mouse!”. I jumped into action! the two of us ran around, at times colliding, like demented 'I don’t know what’s' laughing uncontrollably. Nevertheless we eventually caught the little mouse who was actually very cute, but this time we didn’t just launch it into ‘Paradise’, we drove it to a close by beach and hand delivered it to ‘Paradise’.
After having to leave Australia and being alone in Hastings, East Sussex, I'd phone Wolf in tears. Every time he listened and then thoughtfully spoke becoming my 'voice of reason. His words got me through many dark days. He has taught me so much about Life...
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