This testimony is taken from the book "Jars of Clay" Copyright (C) 1999 by Rev. Claudio Freidzon. It is used republished on this website with special permission.
Until my father's death, I had a very happy childhood. His presence always filled me with a sense of safety and love - unlike my mother's presence. My mother rejected me for no apparent reason. Even though I was very young, she continually spanked me. My father always had to intervene to defend me. I remember times when he would come home from work and, finding me crying in my room in complete darkness, would argue with my mother for the way she treated me.
In spite of this, I was happy. Dad loved me and was very sweet with me. He always had an excuse for my mom's behavior, and taught me to love her in spite of it all. He was so concerned for the family unity that in the end when he was very sick and near death, he asked me never to leave my mother or my sister. Poor Dad! Without knowing it, he laid a heavy burden on my shoulders that would ruin my life forever.
When we got home on the very same day we buried him, after saying good-bye to my grandmother, my mother started to hit me again and again, while saying, "Cry, cry, let's see if he hears you now and comes to your rescue!" I didn't cry, and I swore to myself that nobody would ever see me crying again.
She forced me to work as a maid in other people's homes. I worked hard, fearing that if I made any mistakes they would tell her, and then I would be punished. If they gave me any clothes or candy, I had to give it to my younger sister. "Poor little thing," my mom used to say of my sister, "she is growing up without her daddy." She didn't realize that I was still a child at nine years old.
My teenage years were torture. I was raped by relatives and endured that humiliation under threat, afraid my mother would beat me and throw me out of the house if she found out. When my mom came home every night after work, I was gripped by fear. Only a few know how much a child tormented by fear suffers. I do.
When I turned eighteen, I used part of my salary to buy myself a beautiful gold ring instead of giving the money to my mother, and I was kicked out of the house. I left with what I was wearing and the gold ring in my hand. I tried to forget my mother, but what I had promised my father weighed me down. Every month, I sent her half of my salary. I actually believe that I could not stop loving her.
As the years went by, I became a union activist, got married and divorced and became involved in politics somewhat successfully. No one ever saw me crying, not even my children. I was known as a tough woman, totally devoted to my work. But an accident left me crippled, forcing me to use a cane. I had lost 75 percent of my physical ability, which allowed me to obtain an early retirement. From that point on, my time was solely devoted to my children, and I tried to lead a quieter life.
Soon after, something incredible happened that brought a light of hope to my heart. I received a letter from my sister in Mar del Plata. She lived there in a small apartment with my mother. Several times in the past I had helped them buy furniture or a TV set, but this letter was different. She told me that they were very lonely, had no friends and wanted to move to Buenos Aires so they could live with me. Their idea was to sell their apartment and, with me adding some extra money, buy a house where we could all fit. I liked the idea. Could we finally have a home? My children and some friends advised me not to do it, but I was sure they had changed. And besides, the promise made to my father gave me no freedom to reject the offer.
I brought them home with me. I soon discovered that they were involved in an Afro-Brazilian religion. They brought a person to my house to do "spiritual works" and immediately started to take over my whole house. I didn't want to argue. They will change, I thought. Once we move to the new house everything will be different.
Two years later, the Mar del Plata apartment sold. My sister took part of that money to pay a fortuneteller who, according to my sister, had helped her to sell the apartment. I was furious, but since my mother supported everything my sister did, I added the necessary money to buy the new house. I even bo
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