My mother was not a horrible human
being, but more of someone who had to be strong on the outside to
mask the hurt deep within, I know she loved me and I loved her right
back (as much as I thought I didn't ), her story in itself was one of
the many I put on my belt of strength and life lessons, many people
don't know but we had our little special moments, we shared a love of
music and I always admired her spirit however she was just another
bird with broken wings that time had not healed and eventually her
time ran out.
Primary school was a hard transition
for me personally, my little happy bubble I used to live in was
slowly starting to fill in with little realities around me, the way
people thought and how their actions could determine my way of
thought in the long run. I was very trusting and shy, I was only
myself around my grandmother and small handful of friends. I used to
do Athletics and cross-country, I found that I was a secretly
competitive child, I knew what other talents I possessed but chose to
leave those as hobbies and stick to what would make me look good to
everyone, I wanted to make my gran proud and bring home a medal or
something similar, however I never won or became number one, I either
came second or completely lost which used to work on my self-esteem
and during this time I had met a boy who became one of my best
friends at school, we did everything together and gradually I met a
few others but this one was my bestie and things were good for a
while.
My grandmother used to get fed up with
me a lot because I used to come home hours after school was done and
this was due to me playing with the other kids at after-care, this
was a habit that stuck with me for a couple of years. Things started
to get dodgey at my school and in 1998 I was transferred to another
Primary school my gran felt would be safer and better. As soon as I
came to this school I was picked on immediately, I had no friends
here and I had to start again, the pressures of keeping up with the
other kids and fending off bullies became too much for me and I lost
the plot, I used to have temper tantrums, fight with other kids and
caused some real physical damage to them that always landed me in the
Principal's office, the secretary grew so tired of me reporting every
little issue that she just told me straight out “Lincoln, why don't
you just fight your own battles for a change?” and this turned me
into a little rebel for a while. My gran was called in and Social
workers were also involved because they felt that I was a danger to
myself and other kids, my teacher made a point that I must have a
mental problem because she only saw me playing with girls and not
other boys which to her was disturbing.
My gran was a trooper of note and stood
up for me like no one else did and it made me feel whole but not
normal, I started to question my entire being from that young age.
Some of my family treated me no better, I was always deemed the
favorite or the spoilt one, as much as I tried to fit in I stood out
until one day I attempted suicide, I felt like the seed of the devil,
I could never understand the looks people constantly gave me or the
way other kids treated me, my suicide attempt was botched though –
I kept thinking of where I would land up as a suicide kid (heaven or
hell?) however I wanted to teach myself a lesson and I ended up
cutting myself somewhere else as a reminder of how stupid and ugly
the act of suicide was and to this day I am grateful I for that,
although I enjoyed telling people a totally different story – now
ya'll know the truth FINALLY!
Things weren't always rosy with my
gran, she was indeed my hero but she was also a parent and like most
she also disciplined me and instilled very strong values within my
character, the greatest lesson I learned from her is to work hard for
anything that you want, to know your strengths and weakness and see
your goal to the end. It took me a long time to even attempt such a
thing, I was going through many different emotions and physical
changes, through puberty I started gaining weight and my shape
changed, people used to confuse me for a girl (and still do at
times!) and rumors spread and I finally came face to face with my
demon which was named “Moffie” and no matter how much I denied it
deep down I knew something was different about me, problem was what
was I going to do about it? The only thing I decided at that point is
that I would either discover my demon to its full potential or
continue to deny what I was being called until people stopped, my
biggest problem is that my entire nature was exactly as they were
describing it and I was too young to understand who I really was nor
did I have any exposure to any gay heroes back then, my world was too
small and certain parts were cut off so I had to wing it on my own.
By this time my mother had already
given birth to three other boys but we didn't share the same father,
I admit we were really raised apart than together, in the beginning
during my school holidays I used to fetch them from their father's
house and bring them to the house, however things weren't so good
between their father and our mother, he used to beat her black and
blue – sometimes in front of people, this for me was strange
because I knew she could physically return the favor however he had a
hold over her in some way and I believe she loved him that much. The
man never really liked me in the beginning, like I said before I was
a shy kid however around common faces I wouldn't hold my tongue
(little as I was) and this he DID NOT like!
Everything went to hell the day I went
to go fetch the kids on one of my school holidays, he flat-out
refused to let them come with me and threatened to keep them by force
come what may so this set the ball rolling in a family dispute over
the kids, my mother was torn between the two and my grandmother
wasn't having anymore of that, she opened up a Police Case and the
children were seized but not without its difficulties, when we got
there his (my brother's father) mother swore and spat vulgur words at
my grandmother, the boss lady simply picked her up and threw her
across the room as if she weighed nothing, pushed through the crowd
and got the kids out, I admit that was one hell of a memory for me,
sort of like a dont-mess-with-the-zohan type of moment, but it also
made me see how messed up my family life was. There were more cases
of violence, he beat my mother in a graveyard and cracked her skull,
my youngest brother's first memory of his parents and it followed him
for a long time, the violence was too much and my gran gave my mother
an ultimatum – she knew better than to choose otherwise. My
relationship with my mother became more and more strained, I felt
like she was the opposite of everything I wanted to be, she didn't
show me love I saw other mothers give their kids, she only
communicated with me through violence should I have done something
wrong and I needed her to step up to the plate – even though I was
always reminded that she would never be the mother I wanted and
probably needed.
The day before my mother died my
grandmother had a terrible feeling about something she couldn't
explain and after school she told me to go home and get my mom and
her cousin (who was living there to help out with the kids), by the
time I got home my mother was just about to turn a corner at the end
of the road ( I remember seeing her walking with her new bf) and out
of pure laziness and irritation at the fact that I had to rush all
the way to get her I decided to just take her cousin and I figured
i'd explain to my gran that I simply “missed her”...That was the
last time I saw my mother alive.
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