ways to avoid or survive a beating (Only in Africa)

Growing up; I was quite the mischievous child. Quite is an understatement. I was a bad ass kid; Denis the Menace and that Home Alone kid had nothing on me combined! I’m talking hard core menace; a nuisance in the house. I wasn’t your ordinary kid; the one’s that dip their hand in the sugar bowl. My brother and I were THE TEAM. We robbed the bread delivery trucks everyday for doughnuts and queen cakes. [That was the old Zimbabwe when tuckshops were located at infills and stuff ACTUALLY got delivered] 

                                                This look saved me from a lot of beatings

Our biggest heist; which to this day remains at the top of out “naughty” list was the time we robbed a tuckshop. We took everything; from the cash to the Kango cups and Mandrin* curry. When the cops showed up; they never suspected the innocent kids that live right next door to the tuckshop. We wiped that place clean and hid everything in a huge hole we had dug in the ground. The hole was the size of  a minivan; quite deep. We only got busted by our dad when the “ceiling” to our hide out collapsed as he was walking above it; but the “merchandise” was already gone. As you all know; when busted and you are young and naïve you confess everything. After the confession comes the ass whooping.

As a result of several beatings weekly; I devised a means and way to survive these beatings. One of these stories happened to close friends of mine and today; I will share.

                                                              

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I got so freaked out when my mum wanted to beat me up once because mum had the psychology down PAT. She would tell you how many strokes you would get.  She would tell you to go get the spoon, and just waited patiently knowing she'd increase the lashings if you disagreed. my mum was like "go get the spoon, you're getting 12 strokes." That was enough! I FLEW past her, ran down the yard, jumped over the gate, and was not seen for the rest of the night until she received a phone call from an aunt and uncle who lived in the next neighborhood saying they had a shoeless distraught child on their hands that belonged to her!

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Most of us children of African Heritage have been disciplined the African way. But seriously people, if the 'So Sho' services knew half of what went on in African households, most of us would have been in care! I mean, my parents would have so been done for child abuse! My dad's favorite was to cane us, and make us count each lash out loud. Try doing that through the pain and the tears .And then he'd have the cheek to ask 'what are you crying for?' [Really dude?!]
You just can’t get your head around their logic. As for my darling mum, her specialty was throwing objects without looking and hitting the target (me) on the head. I'm telling you, my mum could throw shoes around corners; Ma Tommy (Converse type of shoes); Sandak (all plastic shoes) and the likes. To this day I still can’t explain how that's done!

                                               

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*Running is the next best thing

The running circle is the best technique to minimise blows to the body. For example my rascal brother was once beaten up for cutting off the hair from my Barbie dolls. To cover this up; he glued the hair back on in the most ridiculous way (See; he wasn’t always the genius he is now) Get this; she beat him with the Barbie Doll he had disfigured as she held his arm and he ran trying to avoid the beating spinning in a circle as she held his arm [lol. good times]

                                                           

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My friend’s personal experience

I used to get beaten over EVERYTHING!! Slowly she'd ask’ “why did you do that?”

And I’d start to answer, shaking with fright.

Then WHAM! Rubber slipper aims straight for my head.

You think it's nothing but have you ever had a piece of rubber propelled towards your head before?

Then she'd go "DON'T EVER TALK BACK TO ME!!!"
“Why did you do that? What child did I raise?! I wasn't like that when i was younger!!! Where did you pass?!?!”

 And because they're divorced she would always blame my father

“THIS IS YOUR FATHER'S FAULT!!! THAT STUPID MAN!!! Where did you get this habit from?!?!?! EH!?!?!?!? Not from me not from me”

 And I’m standing there thinking “How could it not be from you? How did you manage to propel that slipper towards me if you weren't some expert huh?”

                                   

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When I was really young and foolish I was 'Mohammed Ali', ducking, diving and dodging while whoever it was chased me. The day my mum stopped beating me was when I was 12: She was exhausting herself beating me (for no reason) and suddenly I looked her right in the eye and started shouting: 

“CARRY ON U WITCH, CARRY ON! U KNOW U LOVE BEATING ME...U KNOW IT GIVES U PLEASURE...CARRY ON...I CAN C THAT GLINT IN YOUR EYES...YOU LOVE IT DON'T U?! DONT U?!?! 

So my mum is now looking worried and is backing away from me.

* The look on her face was something like this

So I’ve grabbed both wooden spoons off her and I’m crazily beating myself like a drum, all the time staring at her in the eyes without blinking and advancing towards her!

(you know when there’s so much PAIN that u don’t feel it anymore?...yeah...I was somewhere beyond that point.). After that day - she just made me go to church more often and made threats from the safety of 2 meters away.

 THAT’S HOW U STOP A BEATING! 

                                                    Lovies

                                                    Tari