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Blah-Blah Bar / Domestic violence and why the government will struggle to attention the problem.
Last post by Mantis -My mother came to this country back in 1968. She was pregnant and expecting a child literally 4 months after landing in this country. She was married and her husband sent her here to start a life while he settled some family issues before he was to come from Croatia to join her here in Australia. She lived in a bungalow with other Croatian, Serbian and Bosnian people new to the country. After giving birth she got a job and tried to get her life in order. Her husband never returned her mail. Never answered any communications. It became obvious to her that she would be left alone here in a new country with minimal money and not a great deal of support.
She then met my future step father by chance and they began a relationship. He offered to help her get a rental and help her find her feet. She was overwhelmed with joy. They lived in a rental for 2 years and he offered her to join him in the ownership of a house and live together as a family. Everything was great. While they would argue over small trivial things at times it was only verbal frustrations most families would experience. A few years later she was pregnant again and expecting a daughter to her new defacto partner. She gave birth to a beautiful daughter and life was about to get better. I was around 5 years of age at the time and very excited. Suddenly things started going pear shaped.
I would talk to dad (he was the only dad figure to me and we got on really well), and I asked him why he had a different last name to me and my mother. He said I was what would translate into English as a whores bastard. I was too young to understand what that was. I then asked mum what that was and she explained but insisted I tell her where I heard this term. She had suspected dad said it to me. She confronted him about it after he got home from work the following day as to why you would suggest or call your son this term. He absolutely exploded in rage and claimed I was never his son and never will be. He has a real daughter and doesn’t need me or my mother anymore. She started packing her bags. She said she will never stay in a house where she wasn’t respected or their son. He dragged her into the house by the hair up 4 or 5 steps leading to the front door. Then locked the door. I was stuck locked outside. I have never heard a woman or person scream so much in my life. I heard smashing glass. Loud banging on walls and continuous yelling. Her screaming made me wet my pants. I thought she would die. I sat in the front yard shivering with fear. Not that he would hurt or kill me. The silence in the house made me think my mum was dead. The same might have been with my sister. The door opened and he yelled at me. “Come here”. “ Help the whore clean up my house”. He looked at me from close proximity and said “ if you open your big mouth again this will be the same for you”. I walked in the house and in the kitchen my mother was sitting on the floor shivering with fear. Blood covering the floor beneath her, blood on the walls, and 3 white items on the floor that I picked up. It was her broken teeth. Mum and I cleaned the house and I shivered the whole time for at least an hour and a half. I wet my pants again. I was really scared at what this beast could do. Imagine what he could do to me? Mum was petite. Only 55kg. At my age I was lucky to weigh 25kg. How do you fight a 120kg beast of a full grown man?
A month went by and everything went back to part normal but not really normal. We had some visitors from interstate come to see us. For a long weekend. Mum cooked and cleaned and had some evidence of bruising to her eye. The visitors kept asking how this injury took place. The interrogation of questioning came to a point that mum lashed out and said ask him, pointing to my dad. He walked over to her an punched her so hard in the face that she had the biggest black eye I have ever seen. Her eye was instantly closed not even seeing a slit. The visitors got up, and packed their belongings and set off back home. Dad gave mum an myself that look. The look of you are finished. Once they left, we were both in real trouble. Mum, my sister and myself hide in the spare bedroom. Dad came back after a couple of hours. He found us. He took my sister which was his daughter to his bedroom and put her to bed. He then came into the bedroom with us with a rolling pin and we both copped a complete beating. Like you would see in the movie “Once were Warriors “.
This never ended. We would see 2 to 3 weeks for the moment to settle, but mum would open her big mouth again and we would experience a moment where she would say stop being an idiot and shut the gate otherwise the kids will run out onto the streets. Dad didn’t like someone challenge his thought process. He walked from the rear yard into the house and could see trouble starting again. Scared like anything I threatened to kill him with a butter knife in my hands. Shivering with complete fear. He picked me up and threw me through the front yard lounge window. When mum came in to protect her son, he slammed her into the wall. I ran onto the house and he was stomping on her head. I thought she was dead again. Blood everywhere. I ran like I have never run before out of the house. I had no idea where I was going. I guess it was just to get out of there. I am getting sick of the blood. The clean up. The living with fear. This went on month after month. For 22 years with mum and myself having more broken teeth and broken bones that you can’t imagine. This had to end. I had to be selfish. I had to start a new beginning. If I didn’t leave, the rest would live in a safe space. My sister was fine. She was the daughter. However the remaining family members weren’t. My memory of being hit by a hammer or a piece of steel was not something new. Hence why I thought why did we endure so much?
No real support. No family or friends to accept am knew life. A new beginning. Sure back 30 plus years ago it didn’t exist. These were once or twice a month violence activity at an extreme level. 3 or 4 times on what might be medium level. Fear of death. How many freak of death periods to the do young kids experience ever in life? Anxiety. I still don’t sleep at night without some weapon in close grasp. Why did I get exposed to this lifestyle? Why? What will the government do to help the situation? Short term money to help. Short term housing. Everything shows a typical result. Coming back home without the ability to set themselves free. That is what my mother couldn’t do. Money talks and bullcrap walks. Long term money.