We were naughty a lot, always defying my father and breaking his many rules of the house. And because of how we were, we would often try his patience to no end; and so he had very little patience for our antics.
We would often get beaten by the belt, and it didn’t ever really hurt because Papa only did it to scare us. It did scare us and often we would cry from terror and hurt that he would attempt to hurt us in such a way.
Being who we were, of course our own antics never stopped running in circles around the house, seeing how many stairs we could jump and who would win. We were constantly chasing each other and tagging and running with wild abandon.
This particular night my father had just had about enough of this, and we knew exactly what was coming. My brother went first, and I waiting outside knowing I was the next person to get a beating. I didn’t hear my brother cry at all. I was crying though wondering how I was going to handle this. I was quite defiant.
My brother finally came out and quickly my father left for a second and my brother stared wide eyed at me, staring at me as if he had found some sort of secret.
Cautiously, he said to me, “When, he starts throwing that belt, catch it. I didn’t do that but I just thought of it right now. It’s too late for me though, ” he whispered in my ear. I looked at him with no red marks on his back, but still…Papa had gotten him good. He didn’t cry since we were almost used to it. We hated it because of the emotional feeling it bear.
It was my turn. I could see that belt whipping up and lashing downward, and I was able to take hold of it. He tried again and I started to catch every lash. My body was shaking. I was terrified of what he could do to me next.
Dumbfounded, Papa looked at me and he said, “I guess you are too old for this.” “Go tend to your brother.”
I left with this feeling of relief and empowerment. And so my fighting began…
Girlboxer Chocolat 