Tuesday, September 5, 2017

The Pervert who got away with murder

When something unusual happens sometimes you're lost for words to describe what had just transpired. The enormity of the whole thing render you speechless. This blog entry is extremely personal because what follows here happened right in front of my eyes. My love for languages is born of its ability to label things, which will make you, therefore, to deal with them. Its power to describe phenomena and give meaning to things that we're at times unable to deal with them. What I'm about to write in here has the possibility of being explosive. Well, in any case, if it fails in that regard I would have taken off my chest this thing that has eaten at my soul for all these years. The incident happened in my early teens, say, when I was about 7, 8 or 9 years. It affected me greatly as much as I would like to think it affected those whom such evil was inflicted on them. Let me say upfront that I will shy away from naming individuals. You know how it is with such sensitive things... The incident happened when I was in grade 4 or 5. By then teacher were much revered souls. Demi- Gods who were presiding over us. We worshipped the ground the walked on. We feared them. Even on weekends when you're not at school you used to run for dear life or hide when you saw your teacher coming along the street. Not like the kids of today who are protected by a panoply of Rights.Today's kids smoke, experiment with alcohol and engage in various things with careless abandon. Yep, the golden age of Facebook and Twitter! Corporal punishment was the order of the day then. A teacher could smack you for the smallest misdemeanors and you could do nothing about it. You cannot even report him or her to your parents. They will say "uku'laile, Kushuk'uthi awulaleli eklasini" ( Damn right, it means you don't listen in class). They will even smack you for telling on the teacher. Man, that period was Spartan. We were the unlucky bunch. Grew up at the wrong time when South African Society was largely backward, I dare say. Well, this incident involved my former teacher. His evil deeds were mostly directed at girls. You see, our class in the mid-80's was large enough to fill 40 plus kids - both girls and boys. The teacher , an elderly fellow with toothless gums who always smelled of tobacco was with us everyday. He taught us Afrikaans language. Man, I use to hate those Afrikaans periods, precisely for his sick behavior. When the pervert teacher came to our class he preferred to mark out our books right on our desks. Impeccably behaving teachers marked our books right in front of the class or took our books to the teachers room to mark them. Not this creep. Remember those school desk in the time of PW Botha? Yes those. They could accommodate two or three people with them sitting comfortably. This suited the pervert perfectly. Mind you, in class we use to sit two- two on a desk. Two girls on a desk or two boys on a desk, with horizontal rows where it made possible to walk among the desk. Yeah man, apartheid school furniture. Those my age knows them. The bastard will methodically go row by row marking our books. He was quite smart that toothless bastard. By sitting next to a girl child he would thrust his hand right between the poor girl's thighs and rub. This was done stealthily with no one noticing. Those of us who were observant enough were far too much afraid to say anything about it. He was the teacher, remember! Another thing was not knowing what to do with that. We did not know that she was violating the poor girls though it felt wrong. And who to tell about such things? Everything was shrouded in secrecy. Man, that evil old man destroyed many a young girls in my class, let alone other classes that the son of bitch taught. I mean if he was behaving like that in our class what about other classes that he taught? The bastard wracked havoc! All in full knowledge that we will do nothing and the girls were much too ashamed to tell anyone. I use to see girls sitting rigid, frozen with a dirty hand stealthily thrust between their thighs. It felt dirty every time I witnessed it. In my young mind it felt wrong even though I could not rationalize it. Every time he would come to the girl I used to love I could feel bile rising at the back of my throat. I learned some few years back that the old creep is dead. I wish he burn in hell. The perverted sick bastard got away with terrible murder, right in front of our eyes...or those who were savvy enough to witness his wicked behavior. Years back when I left high school and moved on to Johannesburg I used to picture the bastard. My wish was to punch the bastard when I later learned what guys like him did was against the law. He has done much damage to innocent girls. I bet those girls, young women now, are still affected by that incident many moons away in primary school. The sexual exploitation they suffered at the hands of the leering creep is unforgiveable. I still feel dirty when I think about it....*ahem*

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