Stone throw
Stone throw
That day, my mother was hurt.
It is an afternoon on a school day. I am in the front yard when I hear a noise. I run towards the area the sound is coming from. I see my mother holding her forehead, blood oozing. She is standing near the steps and crying. I am shocked and afraid. I have never seen my mother in despair like that. My world comes crashing down.
My siblings are inside the house, unaware of what is happening in the backyard. My father is away in his outpost for his job. He would not be back until the weekend. I am the only one closely representing an adult in the family. What am I to do?
I take stock of the situation. Achchie, my mentally sick grandmother, has just hit my mother with a stone. Achchie has been playing up, causing all types of mayhem in our household lately. She always picks on her daughter, my mother, the one that cares for her. I feel helpless and hopeless. Also, angry. I feel so mad that I could explode. I am fucking furious at the injustice we are being put through, being forced to live with a mentally sick grandmother.
The sight of Achchie standing far with a stone in her hand fills me with disgust. Her erratic behaviour has caused angst in my family, and she has now physically hurt my mother. I am overwhelmed with mixed emotions — fear, anger, and despair.
My mother sits on the steps next to the kitchen, holding her head with her right hand, blood soaking, her eyes full of tears.
My knees are shaking. I am nervous.
This is no time to get angry and act in haste. I must be sensible. There are no adults around in my home.
I run towards my neighbour’s home and call them from the fence line. William Maama and Mary Akka come running, creeping through the fence. They wipe my mother’s forehead and wrap her forehead. My mother asks me to look after my sister and brother. They are playing, in a bedroom, unaware of what is happening at the back of the house.
“God, how did this happen? The wound is deep. We need to go to the hospital,” Mary Akka says.
William Maama runs towards the street, towards a neighbour who owns a car.
William returns with a black Hillman to our front yard. Mary Akka and William Maama leave with my mother in the car.
I shut the doors, securing the house, leaving the crazy Achchie outside. I do not want her to hit my siblings or me with stones.
I am afraid they will keep my mother in the hospital.
I wait inside the house for William Maama and Mary Akka to return with my mother. My sister and brother are getting impatient and cannot understand why the doors are locked from the inside. They plead with me to let them go outside to play. I come up with various excuses, for I do not have the heart to tell them the truth about the violent risk of Achchie.
Sitting on the armchair inside the house, I begin to think. Why is my uncle not taking responsibility for his mother, despite having the resources to do so? Why is it always my mother who must do everything? Look after their sick mother, despite having three children and a husband. Why does he not take care of his mother? Is it too much to ask? Why do I have to visit the hospital for her medicines every month after school? Why can’t he go? Why is my uncle shrieking about his responsibilities?
Two hours later, my mother returns with a bandage with Mary Akka and William Maama.
A few days later, Achchie is taken back to the mental hospital. Again, my uncle takes the easy option by outsourcing the care of his mother.
My mother’s wound heals in a few days. However, the emotional scars remain, a constant reminder of that terrible day.
An event from 1970, Location 248, Mudiyansegewatta, Dalugama, Sri Lanka.
Stone throw
That day, my mother was hurt.
It is an afternoon on a school day. I am in the front yard when I hear a noise. I run towards the area the sound is coming from. I see my mother holding her forehead, blood oozing. She is standing near the steps and crying. I am shocked and afraid. I have never seen my mother in despair like that. My world comes crashing down.
My siblings are inside the house, unaware of what is happening in the backyard. My father is away in his outpost for his job. He would not be back until the weekend. I am the only one closely representing an adult in the family. What am I to do?
I take stock of the situation. Achchie, my mentally sick grandmother, has just hit my mother with a stone. Achchie has been playing up, causing all types of mayhem in our household lately. She always picks on her daughter, my mother, the one that cares for her. I feel helpless and hopeless. Also, angry. I feel so mad that I could explode. I am fucking furious at the injustice we are being put through, being forced to live with a mentally sick grandmother.
The sight of Achchie standing far with a stone in her hand fills me with disgust. Her erratic behaviour has caused angst in my family, and she has now physically hurt my mother. I am overwhelmed with mixed emotions — fear, anger, and despair.
My mother sits on the steps next to the kitchen, holding her head with her right hand, blood soaking, her eyes full of tears.
My knees are shaking. I am nervous.
This is no time to get angry and act in haste. I must be sensible. There are no adults around in my home.
I run towards my neighbour’s home and call them from the fence line. William Maama and Mary Akka come running, creeping through the fence. They wipe my mother’s forehead and wrap her forehead. My mother asks me to look after my sister and brother. They are playing, in a bedroom, unaware of what is happening at the back of the house.
“God, how did this happen? The wound is deep. We need to go to the hospital,” Mary Akka says.
William Maama runs towards the street, towards a neighbour who owns a car.
William returns with a black Hillman to our front yard. Mary Akka and William Maama leave with my mother in the car.
I shut the doors, securing the house, leaving the crazy Achchie outside. I do not want her to hit my siblings or me with stones.
I am afraid they will keep my mother in the hospital.
I wait inside the house for William Maama and Mary Akka to return with my mother. My sister and brother are getting impatient and cannot understand why the doors are locked from the inside. They plead with me to let them go outside to play. I come up with various excuses, for I do not have the heart to tell them the truth about the violent risk of Achchie.
Sitting on the armchair inside the house, I begin to think. Why is my uncle not taking responsibility for his mother, despite having the resources to do so? Why is it always my mother who must do everything? Look after their sick mother, despite having three children and a husband. Why does he not take care of his mother? Is it too much to ask? Why do I have to visit the hospital for her medicines every month after school? Why can’t he go? Why is my uncle shrieking about his responsibilities?
Two hours later, my mother returns with a bandage with Mary Akka and William Maama.
A few days later, Achchie is taken back to the mental hospital. Again, my uncle takes the easy option by outsourcing the care of his mother.
My mother’s wound heals in a few days. However, the emotional scars remain, a constant reminder of that terrible day.
An event from 1970, Location 248, Mudiyansegewatta, Dalugama, Sri Lanka.
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