I think I was approximately 5 years old and summer was just around the corner, mom sat me down and told me that she was sorry for the way my step father was treating me and said, she had some good news for me. Her sister, an aunt, has offered to take me on her farm for the whole summer and the uncle was coming to get me the next day. I sat there in shock, she said I would be safe on the farm and far away from my stepfathers hatred. I said, “Mom I don’t want to go, I’ll just keep hiding from him.” She said “No, you can’t do that again this summer,” she called the other members of my family in and told them I was going to our uncle’s farm down near Toronto.
My brothers could tell by the expression on my face that I didn’t want to go. They offered to build a hut for me down by the river, they promised they would sneak food to me so I wouldn’t be hungry but, mom insisted that I must go for my own sake.
The next day my uncle showed up, a very big man with a gruff voice, he said I will have a great time living on his farm, chasing chickens, feeding pigs and learning how to milk cows. I sadly waved good bye to all my family as we drove away from my house and started the long trip towards Toronto, just a few minutes from my home he slowed the car down and turned the rear view mirror so he could look into my face and this is what he said to me, “You are an ugly black bastard, you are everything your stepfather says you are and when you get to my farm you are going to get the same treatment there that you get at home.” I was terrified and just hung my head and in my heart silently moaned, “My God, Mom. How could you send me with him. He hates me too!” I was silent for the long drive to the farm.
They had three children, two girls and one boy and they soon learned to blame me for every chore that wasn’t completed around the farm. He would grab me in a rage, by the throat and curse me and shake me and then drag me by the back of my shirt down a lane to the big watering trough where the cows came to drink, and he would hold me under water till I couldn’t breathe, then bring me up gasping for breath and do it again and again. He would then throw me to the ground and curse me and tell I better smarten up and do my part or, there was more of this coming.
I was sent to his farm for 5 summers and this was the treatment I received. I never told my mom anything about this till she was dying in the hospital and I went to see her and she made the comment, that she thought my only good times as a child were when she sent me to the farm with my uncle. I told her the whole story and she was overwhelmed, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why would you let him do this to you?” My response was, “What choice did I have?” and she went quiet and just shook her head. How fortunate I am, to be a survivor of severe child abuse, I am convinced that God had His eye on me and kept me alive to tell others, that God’s Love can change you from being a victim all your life, to a survivor who loves and cares for those who have suffered abuse in their child hood. I would love to hear your comments!
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