I don’t know by Phillippa Yaa De Villiers

I don’t know

I don’t know
I’m not sure
I don’t know if
I was raped or not
The uncle who held my hand and
Wiped the ice-cream off
My black patent leather shoes
Who turned my face to him and then
Surprisingly stuck his tongue through my teeth
I’m not sure
He bought me another ice-cream

The time I got my new orange hot pants
with the yellow patent leather belt and paraded in front of another uncle
and he smiled and told me I was beautiful and asked me when I was turning twelve
and I laughed and said only after I’ve turned eleven
I’m not sure what he said then
His finger was hard and cold and his eyes, searching mine, asking
Is that nice, baby, is that nice?
It was sore but he seemed to need me to say yes,
So I did,
So I don’t know, I don’t know if it was my fault or
I lied or
I don’t know.
He always told me I was beautiful.

I’m not sure if I was raped or not
I was there, and I wanted
A massage, his hands are really strong
And he’s used to my body
He’s taken care of me before.
You can say one thing or 55 things:
I said thank you
Because he was giving me so much,
I was really stuck with nowhere to live
he gave me more than I asked for
I did really only want a place to sleep
And a massage
But I don’t know if I was raped because
That short word
Is so much a piece of darkness stuffed into a screaming mouth

I didn’t know
I wasn’t sure
He was my uncle
He gave me a massage
He was helping me out

Phillippa Yaa De Villiers
For Khwezi, in memory of Maloumi Jacob Zuma

I would love to hear from you!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s