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I never want to go home again - Swaziland

Ntombi’s eyes are enormous, drawing attention to her beautiful face. They have seen evil that no child should have to witness, much less endure. A victim of an irresponsible father, Ntombi was exposed to sexual abuse when her parents separated. She had remained with her father because she wanted to continue attending the school she was already in.

“We lived in a one-room brick house: my mother, father, three younger brothers, an older sister and a sister who is younger than me.

One day I came home from school only to find my mother, brothers and sisters gone. My father had chased my mother and the other children away, and they all left for my grandmother’s home, ten kilometres away. I followed them immediately but I didn’t want to change schools, so I went to back to live with my father.

My father makes wardrobes, tables and chairs for a living. He regularly paid my school fees, was a good father and I loved him.

I did all the house chores. Before my mother left we shared the housework between us. Now everything was up to me. My father used to beat my mother. After she left, he started to beat me. I told my mother about the beatings. After listening to me, she predicted that my father would demand to sleep with me. I believed her but I told myself I would not let it happen.

One night as I was sleeping, my father came to my bed. I remember it was a very dark night. He didn’t speak to me. He simply got into my bed. He was naked. Alarmed, I asked him what he thought he was doing. He was not even drunk. He didn’t say anything. Instead he started beating me because I was resisting him. I was lying on my stomach so he couldn’t get to me. He therefore hit me on the back repeatedly with a club so I would turn over. I knew what he wanted because my mother had warned me. I was scared. I was hurting. I screamed. Nobody heard me. I knew what he was doing was wrong. He raped me. Then he went back to his bed. It was hard to breathe. Much later I fell asleep, though my whole body was in pain.

The next morning we did not talk. I skipped breakfast. I didn’t feel like eating anything. I put on my school uniform, went to school and came home as usual. We never talked about that night. I told no one about my father raping me. I did not run away, afraid that he would kill me.

When school closed at the end of that term I went to stay with my mother. While in the fields harvesting maize, she made a comment about my enlarged breasts. I blurted out that my father had forced me have sex with him. It was in April and I had not had my periods since January. There and then my mother informed me that I was pregnant.

I was scared. My mother went to the police the next day. The police came and asked me many questions. I told them that my father had raped me and that as a result I was pregnant. They wrote a statement of what I had told them and then they took me to the hospital. Tests were carried out and for sure I was pregnant.
The baby came on October 29. She was taken soon after by a social welfare worker. My father was taken to court and was handed a prison sentence. He never talked to me about the rape.

I am afraid of my father yet I still love him. How can you be sacred of someone and love him at the same time? Because he is still my father, I don’t want other people to say bad things about him.

I was upset by what he did to me. I am still upset. I think a lot about that night and I wish I could punish him. I want him to remain in prison. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. I know I don’t want to see him. I think my father knows he hurt me. I don’t think he is sorry though. He has not tried to make contact with me, not even through a letter.

I never told my sisters about our father raping me. I only told my mother. She was angry. She didn’t cry. She was just angry. She was still angry when she spoke to my father at the police station. I don’t know what she said to him because the police took me away.

My mother gave me advice when I got pregnant. She said there are many girls at the halfway house in Manzini, who, like me, were raped by their fathers. The people here have helped me in many ways.

I have re-joined school where my favourite subject is English. I am also a very good netball player and I really like it because my team always wins. I don’t want to go back home. I don’t know where I will stay after I leave this house, but for sure I will not be going back. I lost my home.”

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