He just sits there.
Every night while the neighboring houses pose for slumber, the lights in his house still persist. His father is intoxicated by alcohol. Its effects befuddle him and he acts like an untamed dog. He can barely stand up but that doesn’t change his demeanor or the way things would turn out to be.
He just sits there peeping through the door hoping and praying that things would turn out to be different today. He wonders why things can’t be normal in his home. He is transfixed by the conundrum. Why it has to be his home? Why can’t we just sleep? Why does Papa acts the way he does? He tries very hard to find the answers to these questions but fails miserably each time.
His father calls out his mother when he can’t find her in the kitchen. He shouts. Still no answer. He shouts again. She comes out of the cramped bathroom. He calls her a bitch and smacks her on the face. He shouts, ‘ Are you deaf?’ He sits on the chair and orders her to remove his shoes and socks. He then grabs her by the hair and smacks her again on the face. Blood gushes out from her lips. She doesn’t dare to go to the basin to wash her face for she knew that this is not over. For a few moments there is utter silence. Nobody moves. Suddenly, he grabs her by the neck and punches her on the face that sends her flying a few feet away. Tears roll down her face as she screams and shouts but that doesn’t sway his barbaric husband who continues hitting her. He just sits there observing every move made by his father and his mother.
His mother begs his father to stop. She implores, ‘ Please stop.’ However, mercy is a word that his husband hadn’t heard of. He continues striking blows and then he covers her mouth with a piece of cloth. He removes her clothes and rapes her ruthlessly. Tears don’t stop and neither do his blows.
He just sits there crying muffled tears. He doesn’t move an inch. Now, he can’t see anymore. However,he wills his eyes and keeps on looking through the door and views the tolerance and endurance of his mother and the atrociousness and the enormity of his father.
It is a common occurrence in his home. There is nothing abnormal about it. He could grow up to be a man who commits violence against women or he could turn out to be a mute spectator when women are subjected to such evil. He would not have an identity of his own. He will have built his life on what he observed during his adolescence and he would grow up to be like his mother who never raised her voice when she was oppressed by her husband or he would grow up to like his father who raised hell against his wife by bashing and raping her. He just sits there numb absorbing every thing that he sees.