The Pain

She was raped by her brother.

They had had visited their mother’s home to celebrate her 80th birthday. And her brother began to drink. Later that night he raped his 40 year old sister. She screamed for help, but the rest of the house remained silent. They were too afraid of his drunken violence to respond to her distress. When it was over he ran away, leaving her broken. “I trusted him… and look what he has done” she said.

This was two months ago. A charge has been laid at the police station, but since then new crimes have overwhelmed the system. And he has vanished. So she has had to glue her life back together. She went to the clinic for tests, and they have said that she does not have HIV/Aids. She now wears lots of clothes to cover herself. She drinks at night to help herself sleep. And she glues a smile on her face to get through the day.

And I grieve for my twice-weekly domestic worker. She is trustworthy, caring and absolutely reliable. When we go away she looks after our home, loves our garden, and lavishly pampers our pets. When we are not coping with the domestic chores, she comes in and organises the washing, tidies the lounge and kitchen, and packs away stuff in hard to find places. And we love her dearly. And right now I wish that I could heal the broken places in her memories and relationships.

But I cannot.
So I offer her respect and dignity in our relationship. And pray for her to know that she is loved.