My voice against violence on women and children

While I may pride myself as an individual who is recognised for his exceptional work in relation to the communications and PR industry, I am keen on being acknowledged as a man who is ardent on issues concerning moral conduct in social spheres, at work and at home.

For that reason, my beliefs are sharply grim towards the ill-treatment of fellow colleagues, friends and strangers through discrimination or undue preference, in relation to their religion, gender, race, creed, sexual orientation or HIV status.

Consequently, as a way of observing the commencement of the annual 16 days of activism for no violence against women and children initiative, I would like to draw attention to the fact that violence against women and children is extensive and deeply ingrained in our society and the violence, to a large extent, is physical and perpetrated by men known to women as partners and friends, but even more so fathers. n

With that in mind, I would like to ask all the men in my cliques, at work and at home to speak and pledge against any sort of abuse of women in their surroundings. Of course, my wish is that this pledge is practised beyond the 25^th November 2012 to 10^th December 2012.

I, Ulwazi Dladla Mgwadleka, a son, a brother, a friend, a lover, a colleague and a neighbour, vow to escape inflicting verbal vindictiveness, or any sort of abuse to my female counterparts.

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*This article is also published on www.justcurious.co.za

Preys of poor systems

Literally, minutes after my two female colleagues and I had a conversation concerning sexual and physical abuse of women by their spouses, and the consequences that follow when the victims retaliate with worse slants, I saw the Brutalised article via The Times.

While my heart bleeds for the victim, and as I drag the course that our justices are yet to embark on this matter, I am repulsed by the way our current justice system works.

Where are we to disappear to when our own homes ululate harm over secured walls and protection bulldogs?

Who is supposed to shield our mothers and sisters when the same men who once proclaimed their undying love for them hold no boundaries in pounding them while their off-springs are watching?

Are we really meant to surrender all our wills and muscles to react to the authorities whose inkling of punishing the guilty is to issue a mere paper aimed to keep the perpetrator away?

Is this how we hope South Africa will develop further? When our own females are not treated with love, respect and care, how then do we expect other countries to invest in our women empowering initiatives?

Seeing that the head of this state is, evidently, doting of women, I would honestly love to hear him share a word on this one issue.  

Otherwise, he will have to choose his next wife from a list of women who have been abused by their formers and have been failed by the same systems he runs.

I am of the idea that fighting fire with fire has no place in life, yet I believe shooting to kill should apply in incidents such as this one.

To think we claim to be proud of the women we share this realm with…

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Couldn't have been love...

So many times, he’d say “I’ll be right back...”

I believed him, and with that look in his eyes I felt his truth

He promised me something, leaving me with a guarantee, certainty and his word

Tightly knotted with his, my heart felt the honesty in his voice

He never lied, he loved me

He loved me, I knew it

I knew him and I loved him

I watched him care for me always

He nurtured me, kissed me and splurged on me

He did things to my body and my mind would blast of ecstasy

His touches, kisses and love making tactics blew my every part

I could have never been ice, he melted me every time

He was mine and I was his

We shared not only t-shirts and secrets

We shared the sheets, cups and sweets

We shared a dime, our families and styles

I gave him my heart, I swear I had his

I walked the streets with joy

The love I got at home could catch me when I fall

I had eyes looking at me all the time with jealous minds and envious bitches eyeing shine

I thought they were jealous,

Then I heard a word; he hadn’t said things, he’d done things, I see

My sandcastle had collapsed, you see

This was a lie; he and I were a lifetime

We were more than just lust

My peace threatened to flee

NO! This was NOT the day

What were they doing to me? Breaking me?

The golden thread connecting his love to my heart a figment?

This was a lie; jealous minds and envious whores had spotted my shine

Because he loved me, he had to know

Good old us, were to deal with this; together

Mama, NO! He dealt with me, the way daddy dealt with you

Old memories emerged with shocking incidents, he was abusing me

He dealt with me, I could not believe

He’d mistaken strangles for stroking my throat

Coiled up in the same bed we’d lay in when he loved me, my ribs were in pain.

Today, he was hurting me, had he lost his magic?

Mama, he was NOT loving me, love had left our temple and it had dumped his sight
My screams cannot be heard unlike when I moan with him inside me

But, I had to ask him. Jealous minds and envious whores were denting us

But his punches were messing me

I see all we are had never been, his love had cost me a tooth,

And this way, I had never been free

In my face he’d set his footprint,

Then I knew he’d never loved me, he wanted to see me broken

My teardrops had built up streams, finding sanctuary on my scars

The most beautiful butterfly in my heart had died

As I looked up, I saw no glitter not even a star,

I saw a man whose expression was confronted by guilt

His penis had betrayed him; hence my love saw the door.

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Past, my dear friend

Life is full of gorgeous moments. With those moments, of course, where all that the physical eye sees and the mind understands as murky. Wise minds, nonetheless, spend most of their time working on what seems to make them happy. The aim being to develop a sustainable way of living a happy life. 'Some' people spend their time feeling sorry for the things that go wrong in their lives as opposed to - at least - trying to sort their problems out or finding ways to deal with THEM.
 
This perspective of mine is stirred by my everyday living which is never unwavering. Well, I face challenges just everyone else, but like the wise minds, I choose to focus on developing sustainable ways of living my life happily.
 
This works. Living happily that is. However, I have come to realise that, I carry my past with me and I have been doing so for most of my life. This means that my past basically has a say in most of the moves I make to create a future for myself. This becomes a problem, as a result because I was brought up in an environment where my mentality was shaped to believe that the past has no place in the future. The irony, subsequently, is the fact that the decisions I make today are based on what happened yesterday.
 
This realisation (of my past smooching my future) sprang to mind when I had friends over, this past week, for a movie; The killer inside me. A movie they found traumatic due to its ‘disturbing’ and very graphic brutality. Halfway through a scene where a woman repeatedly gets punched on the face by a man, they demanded I take it out. I did.
 
My friends failed to understand how I could watch such a movie to the end, let alone recommend it to them. I had to explain; digging back in my past how I use to despise my step father who created a punch bag out of my mother to the point of bleeding, how i wished evil upon him to how miserable he is these days.
 
Sharing with them this, I didn't cry but deep down something was tearing me apart. Clearly I have grown and matured over the years or I have learnt to hide this particular pain so well. My body felt weird though, while my voice reached an even higher note.

The discussion grew, leading to some –in fact all the others- sharing what they know in regards to physical abuse. It was at that stage that I realised that this movie shook me up (even the first time I watched it) and it opened wounds I thought were healed. Well, the wounds have healed, but the issue remains that whatever happened between my mother and step father affected me strongly, and somehow has affected the way I do things or respond to delineation of physical abuse. This is what my friends found very creepy.

My ‘father’ may not have physically abused me like my mother, well not that much, but I was around every time the fights took place. Because of that, my emotions were bruised, my mind was dented and my heart damaged.  
 
The fact that I managed to sit and take in what all my friends considered repulsive behaviour hit me and it scared me. I’m assuming my friends thought I did not find the movie disturbing or maybe I suggested the movie thinking it is funny.

Happy read!