I went back to micasa on Friday evening and even as I alighted, I could hear the racket from my next-door neighbour (the same one who woke me up at 3 am with Lady Gaga songs played on full volume). There was a lot of shouting punctuated by the sound of things crashing/breaking. My heart sank. So much for a quiet weekend.
I could hear the daughter’s voice more clearly as I swept the porch and watered the lawn. She was clearly angry and swore at her dad. Almost every sentence she shouted had the word ‘Fuck’ and she screamed that he (the dad) broke her nose. Oh my. Now, the father is really someone unpleasant. He has a quick temper and can be heard berating loudly at all hours of the day. I once caught him scolding the wife when I was outside and I felt sorry for the wife: I’m sure she was embarrassed at being criticised loudly in front of me. He is, in short, a verbally and mentally abusive person and really I’m only surprised he hasn’t injured/broken anyone’s limb before this.
I contemplated calling the police but hesitated as I’d done that once before with a previous neighbour and when the police came, I had to go out (at 4 am!) to meet them. I was about to recite Yassin when I heard a car outside and immediately thought, that must be the police. And true enough, there was an unmarked police car outside when I peeped out my bedroom window. (I almost wished I had been the one who called the police after all). I could hear the dad repeatedly telling the police not to interfere because they were ‘outsiders’ but the daughter insisted that they stick around while she tell her story. This went on for some time and they proceeded to have another shouting match in front of the police.
When I peeped out again later, I saw about seven motorbikes with even more policemen. Wow, this is more serious than I thought. The police left after 9 and it was finally peaceful and quiet – for once. (I’m happy to say the situation stayed this way for the rest of the weekend).
I could hear the daughter’s voice more clearly as I swept the porch and watered the lawn. She was clearly angry and swore at her dad. Almost every sentence she shouted had the word ‘Fuck’ and she screamed that he (the dad) broke her nose. Oh my. Now, the father is really someone unpleasant. He has a quick temper and can be heard berating loudly at all hours of the day. I once caught him scolding the wife when I was outside and I felt sorry for the wife: I’m sure she was embarrassed at being criticised loudly in front of me. He is, in short, a verbally and mentally abusive person and really I’m only surprised he hasn’t injured/broken anyone’s limb before this.
I contemplated calling the police but hesitated as I’d done that once before with a previous neighbour and when the police came, I had to go out (at 4 am!) to meet them. I was about to recite Yassin when I heard a car outside and immediately thought, that must be the police. And true enough, there was an unmarked police car outside when I peeped out my bedroom window. (I almost wished I had been the one who called the police after all). I could hear the dad repeatedly telling the police not to interfere because they were ‘outsiders’ but the daughter insisted that they stick around while she tell her story. This went on for some time and they proceeded to have another shouting match in front of the police.
When I peeped out again later, I saw about seven motorbikes with even more policemen. Wow, this is more serious than I thought. The police left after 9 and it was finally peaceful and quiet – for once. (I’m happy to say the situation stayed this way for the rest of the weekend).
I’m not nosy. I’m just concerned ;)It always makes me wonder why people stay in abusive relationships (by abusive, I mean any form of abuse – mental, verbal, physical, sexual). Why does one stay with an abusive partner? Why put up with it? Is it because of dependence on the abuser, reluctance to seek an escape for whatever reason, belief that the abuser will change, or self-sacrifice for the sake of the children (if any involved)? In this instance, the daughter could just move out instead of staying under the same roof with the father. Oh sure, there’ll be costs involved but surely that’s a small price to pay for your sanity and peace of mind? Of not having to hear him scream abuse, yell, torture (physically or mentally), hurt, belittle or antagonise you? I know there are instances where people stay in an abusive relationship and are prepared to defend themselves for doing so, either by defending the abuser’s actions, lying about the abuse (despite the signs being visible for the world to see) or refusing to socialise altogether (so no one can question them).
And what do we do? What role do we play? Do we stand by and watch from afar all the while assuring ourselves nothing bad is happening or do we take action? In this instance, the father arrogantly dismissed the police, telling them it was not their business. I can’t live with myself if I know someone is being abused and I don’t do anything about it but how do I give help if the abused refuses help or denies the abuse? How do I act without appearing like I’m being a busybody?
I thank God that I have never been abused by my parents. Some may even say I’m spoiled for my parents have never even beaten me (nor my other siblings). Love doesn’t have to hurt. It isn’t love for someone to dominate another person, to instil fear in that person, to make that person so dependent on you that s/he can’t walk away from the abuse you inflict on her/him. Love shouldn’t hurt at all. I know in some societies and circles, particularly the masculine society, it’s acceptable (even accepted) for men to abuse or mistreat their wives/children. But it doesn’t mean it’s OK.
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Arsenal lost to the hated scums last night. We played badly with misplaced, woeful, careless passes in the midfield. Damnation. Come on Arsenal, the train has left the station a long time since, the season has long since kicked off but we are still nowhere close to getting our act together. Stand by our men, Audrey says and while I agree, I don’t know how much longer we can stand by and watch our beloved Arsenal like this. And to make things worse, Sagna, the best right back in the Premier League has fractured his fibula and will be out for approximately three months. Can things go any worse?
Love doesn’t have to hurt. Heck, love shouldn’t hurt. And yet, we are all hurting because of our love for The Arsenal (which ironically is celebrating its 125th anniversary later this year). I don’t know how much pain I can bear, how much suffering I have to endure, how much more I can tolerate (thanks to all my twitter mates who try to cheer me up by sharing their perspective).
This love for Arsenal currently hurts. Dang it!
And what do we do? What role do we play? Do we stand by and watch from afar all the while assuring ourselves nothing bad is happening or do we take action? In this instance, the father arrogantly dismissed the police, telling them it was not their business. I can’t live with myself if I know someone is being abused and I don’t do anything about it but how do I give help if the abused refuses help or denies the abuse? How do I act without appearing like I’m being a busybody?
I thank God that I have never been abused by my parents. Some may even say I’m spoiled for my parents have never even beaten me (nor my other siblings). Love doesn’t have to hurt. It isn’t love for someone to dominate another person, to instil fear in that person, to make that person so dependent on you that s/he can’t walk away from the abuse you inflict on her/him. Love shouldn’t hurt at all. I know in some societies and circles, particularly the masculine society, it’s acceptable (even accepted) for men to abuse or mistreat their wives/children. But it doesn’t mean it’s OK.
~~~~~~~~
Arsenal lost to the hated scums last night. We played badly with misplaced, woeful, careless passes in the midfield. Damnation. Come on Arsenal, the train has left the station a long time since, the season has long since kicked off but we are still nowhere close to getting our act together. Stand by our men, Audrey says and while I agree, I don’t know how much longer we can stand by and watch our beloved Arsenal like this. And to make things worse, Sagna, the best right back in the Premier League has fractured his fibula and will be out for approximately three months. Can things go any worse?
Love doesn’t have to hurt. Heck, love shouldn’t hurt. And yet, we are all hurting because of our love for The Arsenal (which ironically is celebrating its 125th anniversary later this year). I don’t know how much pain I can bear, how much suffering I have to endure, how much more I can tolerate (thanks to all my twitter mates who try to cheer me up by sharing their perspective).
This love for Arsenal currently hurts. Dang it!
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