The Untold story of Mariam H
[Actually it's been told, but this is the first time it's in writing!]
Let me just start of by telling you that I don't have a normal life by any means. At times it can be very chaotic and at other times it's very boring. My name is Mariam H and I'm 17 years old. My story starts back in October 2003. I had just come back from Hillcrest Highschool were I was a senior, I was also 16 at the time. (Which is in Ottawa Canada. I'm originally from Mogadishu Somalia, but came to Canada in 1990 when I was three with my mother and my two younger brothers Mohamud and Ahmed.)
I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open and stepped in the house, it was loud as usual the kids were home from school. I looked inside the living room my sister was they're doing her homework watching her favourite soap opera Passions. She's 12 and she was sprawled on the floor with her schoolbooks all around her. When she saw me come in she looked at me and said, "your in trouble, hooyo's gonna kill you, she went to your school today and talked to your teachers." I felt a rumble in my stomach like I had just been punched there hard I tried to ignore the sudden rush of nausousness as I spoke "where is she now" I said "did she say anything to you, did she look really mad?" She looked at me with serious eyes "she went shopping she should be back soon, she was fucken mad when she left here" I felt tears start to well up in my eyes, I tried to act tough." I know I saw her at school, she knows I was skipping English class and she said she was gonna kill me when I came home" My sister got off the floor stood up and walked towards me, with her arms crossed at her chest. " Why did you skip, you know hooyo was gonna find out? did you think you could get away with it? " I sat down on the nearest couch and put my head between my legs so the room would stop spinning. "I don’t know Ikram, I don't know what I was thinking I'm fucken scared I know she's gonna beat me hard" and I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "Oh god!" I said "why did I fucken do that " I said to no one in particular.
My younger brother Hamid who was 6 at the time along with my cousin Mariam (who has the same name as me) who was 10 both came into the room and saw me crying. "Why are you crying, " Hamid asked. "Hooyo's gonna kill me " I replied, he looked at me with sad eyes and didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Me getting beat is a usual occurrence in our house, it's not uncommon. A few years ago we all got equally beat, but since I started high school I took the most of it. You might be horrified at hearing this; maybe you've never been even spanked before. But in my Somalian culture, parents beat their kids to put them in their place all the time. Now I'm not bashing my culture because I love it. It's very common in my immigrant filled neighbourhood for almost every kid in every house to get beat. It's a deep dark secret that we keep and never speak out loud about it." O.K. you guys please help me clean the house, hurry I don't want hooyo to beat me for the house being dirty too". They all got up and got to work tiding up the house. "Faster, faster" I said "hooyo's gonna be here any minute. They all looked at me and said nothing and went back to work.
I started towards the stairs "I'm going to my room, call me when hooyo's in the parking lot, and hide all the big wire's so she doesn’t use them on me" I said. They all nodded still silent. I walked up the stairs and went in my room and closed the door. I sat on the edge of my bed and started crying, hard, I couldn't help it. I started to think to myself, what the fuck! Why did I skip? why was I failing English? I knew that eventually my mother would find out, but I did it anyway's, was I a masochist? Did I get some sick pleasure (if not sexual) from getting beat up? No I thought to myself and violently shook my head; no I didn't like getting beat. But yet I did everything that I knew would result in my mother hitting me. There were usually three reasons why my mother felt the need to hurt me. 1. When I did poorly in school. If I got bad marks on tests and report cards. And that's often because I'm not the best student, I know I'm not but she didn't. So that was my coup de grace. If I was doing well in every other aspect of my life, my mom always knew that she could count on me doing badly in school.
I remember being younger and dreading getting my report card. While other kids were afraid that their parents were going to ground them, I was afraid of my mother beating me. I would at those times almost feel the way the wire would hit my flesh, I would shudder. I would immediately put my report card away and start to walk home with my friends. They all had their report cards out smiling comparing their good grades. Then they'd all turn to me and ask me were my report card was and why wasn't I looking at it. I'd tell them it's in my bag and that I'd got bad marks, they'd all be like no I'm sure you got good marks and then go back to talking feverishly between themselves. I would fall silent and follow them home, dragging my feet wishing they would walk slower and were not in a big hurry to show their parents their marks.
Don't think about that! I thought to myself and came back to thinking about the present. The 2nd sure-fire way for me to get beat was the condition of the house and making sure it was clean. I usually didn't have a problem with that, on the odd occasion she come home and the house wasn't up to her high standards I would quickly apologize and start to clean feverishly. But come on be reasonable we lived in a small three-bedroom house with seven people. Three boys aged 14,13 and 6. Two girls 12 and 10 not including my mother, and me it was bound to get a little messy at times. But she didn't understand that. The 3rd thing that was sure to piss off my mother was me and my appearance, just the way I looked and presented myself. She especially hated my usual morning hair, which looked like Tine Turner on crack. She didn't like the clothes I wore or that I didn't wear make-up. I know your probably would think that she wouldn't encourage her teenage daughter to were make-up and dress sexy but she would!
I heard a familiar sound and it jolted me out of my dream like state. I jumped off my bed and ran towards the window and looked out. My worse fear was confirmed, my mother's car was in our parking space, she was parking the car. I started to cry again and freak out. "Oh god" I said out loud, I started to pace in my room frantically thinking of ways to explain myself but I couldn't. I heard the car door slam shut and went back to looking out my window. I saw my mother exit the car and start to walk to our back yard. I started to feel nauseous again, not that it really ever went away. Just then I heard my sister yell from downstairs " hooyo's here Hani!"(Hani, that's the name only my family calls me. Everyone outside my family call me Mariam. I don't know if it’s a nick name or what all I know is that when I hear that name it's someone in my family that's calling me.) I yelled back" I know, be quiet" and I went back to looking out the window. My mother was inside our backyard now, I tried to get a good look at her face, Oh shit she looked mad I thought, really mad. I heard her put the key in the lock and open the back door. I went back to my bed and sat down Waiting for her to come upstairs like she'd done a thousand times before. I heard my mother ask the kids if I was home. My little cousin Mariam replied with " yes she's in her room". I tried to picture what my mother's reaction was to that but I couldn't so I just sat there waiting with my hands on my lap.
I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and cringed the footsteps were getting heavier until it finally stopped right in front of my room. I took in a deep breath and waited. [Quick side note: The first part of this, whatever this is has to deal with an immense amount of violence. If you are a tad squeamish I might suggest that you skip ahead to a different part in this writing. If this so called book isn't finished and you are the lucky few that I have aloud to read this masterpiece as I write it bear with me and continue to read on, because I assure you that when this book is finished if I even decide
To finish it, it will be a best seller I tell you a best seller! (If you detected a tad bit of arrogance in that last little part, let me congratulate you on your keen ability to detect cockiness. I thought that since most of what you've been reading so far is kinda dark I'd lighten it up by showing you alittle bit of my cocky side. I'll warn you that there will be more of this scattered around as you read, along with sarcasm because I'm an extremely sarcastic person.)] I saw the door handle start to jiggle and then it was slammed open, with a thud. My mother was at the entrance. I looked at her and she looked at me and we held each other's gazes for a few split seconds. I looked down at her hand to see what she had in it. She was holding in her right hand a white cable extension. While still keeping my gaze she quickly wrapped the cable around her hands a couple more times so it wouldn't fall off. I tried to wipe my tears as best I could. "hooyo" I said getting ready to explain myself. "Let's talk about this please I." but she cut me off with a hard whip to my right side. I jumped back and cried out, it hurt alot. I grabbed my side, as I did that she hit me hard across my legs. I cried out again (I don't scream). She started to yell in Somalian but I 'll try my best to translate it for you guys."Explain, how can you explain how your fucken failing English? It hasn't even a month into the new school year," She said between hits. I tried to get away from her but she was blocking the door the only way for me to get out. Making me feel like a caged animal. Then it happened she said the four words that to this day sends shivers coming down my spine "Go to the basement". With that she turned and went down the stairs. [Now for those of you who are sitting down reading this your probably scratching your head and asking why anyone who be that afraid of your basement. Well I'll tell you why, my basement is were my dear old mother beats us so severely that we can hardly move let alone walk back up the stairs and to our rooms. Our basement is sort of a torture chamber for us. To the untrained eye it' s just your average basement with little side rooms and a t.v, but to my siblings and me it's hell. She takes us down there so the neighbours can't hear us. But I doubt that, there were times when we'd be watching t.v in the basement and we could hear the neighbours downstairs in their basement playing music and talking. So I doubted that they couldn't hear what was going on next door, they just chose to ignore it To give my mother some credit she wasn't that dumb. When we'd get to the basement she'd go straight for the t.v and put the volume to max so it would drown out our screaming and crying. Though I don't think it ever worked.] I slowly descended down the stairs. She was standing in the living room waiting for me to come down. To the side near the kitchen my sister, cousin and brother were
Huddled together watching with a mix of silent horror and relief. [They were sad that I was getting beat, but relieved that it wasn't them]. I looked at them for a split second and turned to the basement. The door was open and I quickly went down the steps and waited for my mother to come down the stairs too. I was kinda just spazzing out waiting, it's the worst waiting because you know what's coming but it's like your watching it and not living it, you can't believe what's about to happen but there's nothing you can do about it.
[Now for those of you who are reading this your probably asking yourself why I don't run, fight back or call the police. Now those are all valid things I could do but you have to understand something. In our culture and in many others we are taught at a very young age to respect our mothers. I hated my mother very much (ok maybe hate is to strong a word. I disliked her) But I was still her staunchest protector and to this day I still am. I don't know why I'm this loyal to her. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm her oldest daughter and child. Early on it was easy for our mother to over power us, she was bigger physically. But at 16 I was 5'8" and she must have been 5'5"-5'6". I was taller then her I could of probably given her a good run for her money if I fought back but I never did. I never so much as raised a finger to her. She could do anything she wanted to me but I never hit back, ever! I don't know why I just felt that I owed her or something. She was my mother after all] She came down the stairs a few seconds later. She had three pieces of wires in her ands. When she got to the last step she looked at me and told me to sit on the floor. I didn't want to and I was still very much crying at this point. She said it again in a calm voice. "Please", I said" hooyo we can talk this out you don't have to hit me" She didn't reply she just got off the last step and pointed to the floor. I did as I was told. She came toward me, and I flinched when she got near me thinking she was about to take a swing at me. She knelt down beside me and told me to hold out my hands. I refused I wanted to know why she wanted my hands. "Give my your fucken hands!" she snapped and with that whipped me with the wire across the back. [I don't think I have to explain the amount of pain I felt, you all have imaginations, use them] I quickly threw my hands at her. She took them and started to tie them together. I tried to hide the horrified look as as I realized what she was planning from my face. This women was crazy she was going to tie my hands and legs together so I couldn't get away and run away even if I wanted to. When she was done with the hands she quickly went to work on my feet. She tugged at my hands and legs and when she was sure that they were tight enough she got up and looked at her handy work. She positioned my so I was facing her and only her. Though through the corners of my eyes I could see my siblings on the top of the stairs watching me." Get the fuck upstairs" I yelled at them. Not thinking of my mother for that split second. Bad idea she quickly whipped me a few more times." Shut the fuck up" She said she then proceeded to get a sock a stuff it in my mouth so I couldn't talk." they can sit there and watch me because then then they'll know never to act like you" I shot a glimpse at them. They were smiling! They were happy that they could sit and watch! [In any other situation I would say that they were borderline sadists because they liked watching me get beat. But I won't say it now because looking back, violence is all they've ever known. They better help me out when it gets really bad I thought. Because I always helped them get out of getting hurt when my mom was mad at them.]
She went back to beating me for what seemed like forever all the while yelling things about how I should be a better daughter and that she wasn't going to pay for University because I was stupid and that as soon as I graduated from highschool she was gonna get me to work until I turned 18 when than she'd make me join the army. The army! [Now you might be wondering were the hell my mom got the idea for me to join the army, well it's because I was in cadets at the time. I actually had gone to cadet camp for six weeks. Let me tell you I wasn't the best cadet. I have a problem with authority figures so being told what to do doesn’t sit well with me. If I ever joined the army and got sent to Iraq or Afghanistan I seriously think I would get my self killed.] I can't really for sure tell you all the details of what she told me because I kinda seriously zoned her out. I guess I kinda went to a place in my head were I couldn’t hear her. [Now I've heard a lot over the years from people on t.v who say that when they were abused they went into this place in their head were they couldn't hear or feel anything. I might have got the not hearing anything but let me tell you I still felt everything.] After it was over she told me to go to my room and to leave the door open and never ever close it and to do my homework. She stood near the stairs were I had to walk by her to get upstairs quickly got my hands out of the restraints and then untied my leg and spit the sock out of my mouth and got to my feet. I tried to walk by her as quickly as possible without giving her any eye contact. But she still got one good whip in before I ran past her and the kids into my room. Once I got to my room I started to pace around it. Sonofabitch I thought that stupid fucken asshole. God why does she always have to hit me. Fuck I hate it. And at nearly that moment it all hit me; she was never gonna let me leave! She just about said that she wasn't going to pay for my University because I was to stupid to get in. She had a point there. [I tend to be very hard on myself] I have to get out of here I thought to myself. That's when I heard the back door slam shut. I ran to my window and saw my mother walking to her car. Yes! She was leaving. Ok now what do I do? I'm gonna run away I thought. Yes that's it I'm gonna run away. But I need some help because I have no idea what to do. All I knew was when I got the idea of running away I was suddenly happy. I stopped crying. Toronto, that's were I'm gonna run away to Toronto. I ran out of my room and went into the living room where my sister was. "Hooyo said your not supposed to come down stairs to watch t.v. Or use the computer or we have to tell her" she said. "I'm not here to watch t.v or use the Internet I'm just here looking for the phone book, were is it?" She thought for a second and said" I think it's in the kitchen some where." I went into the kitchen were my little cousin was using the computer. I saw the phonebook on the table got it and left before she could say anything to me. Like she would of she was so engrossed in what she was doing I don't think she even noticed me. I went back upstairs and went to my mom's room where the other phone was. I got on the bed sat down and opened the phone book. I knew what I was looking for I just hoped the number was in there. Yes I thought to myself when I found the number. I left the door open so I could see who ever came upstairs so they couldn't catch me talking on the phone and eavesdrop on my conversation. I dialed the number and waited. I started to cry again because this was a very big thing I was doing and I was really, really scared. "hello Kids Help Phone Devon here how can I help you?" I froze and panicked and hung up the phone without saying anything. Get a hold of yourself I thought you can do this it's not that complicated. I dialed again and waited. All the while trying to stop shaking and crying. "Hello Kids
Help Phone Brian speaking how can I help you?" Again I froze "hello?" He said. "Um, hi " was the only thing I could say. " hi how can I help you" "Um I I need some help because I want to run away to Toronto". "Wow ok that's a big thing, where are you now". "I'm in Ottawa" "Why do you want to run away, do you wanna tell me a little bit about it?" What do I do do I tell him what happened, just tell him I thought to myself. He doesn't know my name or any specifics about me so it wasn't like he was gonna call CAS to my door. But I had to be sure. " Do you guys have caller I.D. like the cops so you can see our names and numbers?" "No we don't" was his reply. " Where highly confidential you only tell us what your comfortable telling us." That was good. "Um well I'm tired of my mom beating me, she beats me almost everyday and the cycle is never gonna end. She just finished beating the crap out of me a few minutes ago." "How old are you?" he asked, "16 " was my only reply. "16 ok you're to old for CAS, but that's horrible you wanna tell me anything else?" "No I really don't I'm sorry but my mom's gonna be home any minute and I need to finish this up before she catches me or I'm dead." "Ok so you wanna go to Toronto, you know that's going to be expensive what with the bus tickets and stuff like that". I had the feeling he was discouraging me from going there. " Money's not a problem" I said to him, "O.k if money's not a problem, there are other factors in play here. The shelters in Toronto for young women are not the best. Toronto can be a very scary and dangerous place for a 16 year old girl" He had a point I didn't want be raped or anything like that." What do I do then I don't wanna stay here, I can't". "I know you can't it seems like your in a really bad place right now" That was the worlds biggest understatement! " You know there are a lot of really great places in Ottawa where you can get some help" " really where?"How come I'd never heard of these places? Maybe it was because I never looked for them." There's the Young Women's Emergency Shelter for one" That sounded ok and I didn't have a lot of time top talk so I decided that, that place would have to do. " Ok can I please have their number?" I asked. "Sure do you have a pen and paper?" I didn’t so I told him to hold on a second while I ran to my room to get some pen and paper from my school bag. While I was in my room I looked out the window to make sure my mom hadn't come home. She wasn't there, a good sign. I ran back into the room and picked up the phone. " I have a pen and paper," I said breathlessly [I'm not a very athletic person, I have asthma so just a little bit of running takes my breath away.] "Ok good the number is 523-8967, I'd give you the address but the address is confidential so you have to call them" That was all right for me. "Thanks a lot you were a great help I'm gonna call them right now." "I'm glad I can help you, if you ever feel the need to talk to someone you can call here again its 24 hours." Good to know I thought to myself as I hung up the phone. I quickly dialed the number for the shelter. "Hello young women's shelter, Martha speaking how can I help you?" [I'm not completely sure if this was the right staff that answered the phone for me the first time. I'm just guessing] "Hi I. I got your number from the kids help phone people." People, people how stupid was I, I was kinda stuttering because I was scared I was still crying and I had the shakes for some reason. [The shakes are exactly what they sound like I was shaking and shivering even though I wasn't scared.]
Posted by
Sul, 23:59, 10th August 2004:
It seems like a good start to a story though not something that I'd go out of my way to read if I'm honest, but that's just me. Maybe it's because there's no indication of what's to follow. "I lived happily ever after", "that was the start of my fall into something even worse" or "what follows is how I found myself".
My only real critique is that you're splitting the action of the story with, I don't know what you'd call them, perhaps explanatory notes. They seem to be parts that can either be put into the whole action of the story or set aside to a later paragraph if you're explaining them for a cultural benefit. Some even seem like they can be emitted completely. They, to me, seem a little too often and would get rather tedious if continued throughout a whole novel.
/Sul's 2p.