“ME ON THE STREETS: Lessons On Violence”
Last November 2019, I remember writing and posting about child abuse done by father in three different occasions (and of course, different families too). If you ask me how to get over that, then I am afraid I can never give you the right answer to.
Recently, I witnessed another one — but this time done by the mother.
As usual, I am just a single, childless woman. I am also blessed with enough fortunes to support myself and another person, at least. So, who am I to judge others who are different, right? I don’t walk in their shoes — like they don’t in mine.
I’m sorry. I still don’t tolerate child abuse, whatever the reason is.
It was Sunday evening right after I had dinner with my best friend. She’d flown from Sydney to visit her ailing grandfather in Bandung. I’d picked her up at the airport before we took a cab to the hotel that she’d booked in the central city.
We parted by the bridge after dinner. My friend returned to her hotel room and I made my way to the Trans-Jakarta bus shelter. That night, the shelter was a little bit crowded with people, eventhough it was already past ten.
While I was waiting there, I saw a thin, scruffy-looking young woman walking with a little child behind her. From her overall appearance, it was obvious that she was a street pandhandler. Poorer beyond poor, the rough life on the streets had stolen a great deal of her youth. Carrying a sling bag and a small, blue guitar in her hand, she hadn’t just looked old that night.
She’d looked really furious. The little boy, probably about five or six, followed behind her fearfully. He was crying silently.
Then, without a warning, the woman suddenly turned around and glared at the little boy. She rushed to him and whacked his head with her guitar. I froze.
Oh, no you didn’t…
The poor little boy started howling louder now, touching his head. The mother started screaming at him, spitting out curses. I could hear something like: “You’re acting like an animal so you deserved it!” in Indonesian.
I felt my rising anger. Before I could stop myself, I heard my own voice screaming: “You bitch!” But my feet felt like being cemented on the floor. I was still too shocked to move.
Thankfully, someone else reported to the uniformed staff on duty. Two men in uniformed later caught the woman by the arm before she started hitting the boy again. She was hysterical and yelling at them:
“That’s my child! I can do whatever the hell that I want with him!!”
“The boy lost his slippers on the way,” a woman behind me informed. Apparently, she’d seen the whole incident a lot more. “She was angry and somehow still tried to find a less crowded spot just to hit the boy, so no one would look.”
“I did.” I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. Somehow, the anger still hadn’t left me.
“Women like that would pull your hair and spit out curses if you dared intervene,” the woman went on. “They’re more afraid of men in uniforms. Good thing someone called them to step in.”
That night, I returned home and could barely sleep. I didn’t know what happened to the woman and the boy after that — and possibly never will. I know, that woman must have been a victim to the whole patriarchal and social systems too. I’m sure there are a lot of theories about how she’s become what she is. Profiling 101.
Growing up in poverty, forced to marry so young and leave school early, jobless (and possibly abusive) husband who’s probably long gone with another woman once he’s had enough of her…you name them. Even if he’s still around, he probably won’t lift a finger to help to look after their child too.
She’s super exhausted and nobody cares. Whatever happens, they’ll still blame her anyway.
I sympathise with her situation, although that’s not good enough. I know it. We’re talking about social system with people like her as the bottom of the “food chain”. Yeah, that’s how social system works, basically. It feeds the privilege and sacrifices the poor. It keeps doing so…
I also hate how people keep pushing women to get married soon and have babies, yet they are also the same people who refuse to help them when they need more support. They tend to look the other way, claiming that it’s none of their damned business.
Weird, isn’t it? Many people just love telling you what to do and how to live your life. Once you follow their advice and something bad happens, they choose to look the other way. Not their problem, they usually say.
R.
