t Tell
By Lani Wendt Young
Copyright 2011 Lani Wendt Young
Don’t Tell
“Don’t tell or I’ll kill you” he said, his breath hot and wet in her ear as he covered his mouth with his huge hand.
“Don’t tell or I’ll kill you” he said, emerging from the shadows, grabbing her from behind as she bathed in the outside tap.
“Don’t tell or I’ll kill you” he panted as he crushed the breath out of her and did his bad things to her in the stifling darkness of her mosquito net.
She told her mother. Her words tumbling over each other. A desperate pleading for help as she struggled to voice the shameful words. Her mother slapped her face. Hard and horrified. Calling her a bad girl, a dirty girl for telling such evil lies.
She told Matelina, her best friend at school. Eyes wide and shocked, Matelina asked lots of curious questions. What was it like? Where did he do it? Where did he put his thing? What did she do? Relieved to have a sympathetic listener, she poured out the shameful words, replaying every filthy scene, every twisted feeling and every hurt. She even showed her the bruises on her arms and legs. She cried, quiet gulping sobs as they sat behind the girls’ toilet hidden from the rest of the school. The next day Matelina didn’t speak to her. She sat next to Losalia instead and at lunchtime, a group of twittering girls gathered around Matelina as she spoke avidly. They all sent horrified glances and giggles Susanna’s way as she sat by herself under the pulu tree eating an ice pop. They walked past her after school with hushed whispers and furtive sideways glances. The next day when Susanna went to the toilet there was her name written on the bathroom wall – Susanna paumuku – in bright red marker. She threw up in the bowl and sat there in the leaky stinking silence until long after the home time bell had rung and all the children had left.
She told her favorite teacher – Mrs. Esera, after she was found for the fourth time hiding in the bathrooms after 4 o’clock, unwilling to go home because HE would be waiting for her. Mrs. Esera put away her ruler, took her into the classroom and asked her surprisingly tenderly, what was the matter? Hesitantly, the words came out. Painful phrases and heavy pauses as she stared at the dusty floor. Mrs. Esera looked shocked. They hadn’t covered this in Teacher’s College. She didn’t know what to say. The air was heavy and stifling in the classroom and a fly buzzed aimlessly against the screen wire. She told her to go home and everything would be alright. Susanna was almost at peace that night under the mosquito net when he came to her, fumbling with his lavalava. She lay there still and silent, gritting her teeth against the sharp, thrusting pain. As he did his sweaty, grunting business, she looked past his shoulder at the stars outside and thought – this will be the last time. Tomorrow, everything will be alright.
Mrs. Esera told the Principal. A short, round man with importance bursting the buttons on his sweat-stained shirt. The Principal called the police. During recess a white POLICE double cab truck with four officers pulled up in the schoolyard. A swarm of hot, cheerful children in red pinafores clustered around abuzz with curiosity. The police met with the principal in the staffroom and conferred with Mrs. Esera. Susanna sat alone under the pulu tree and watched in shock, her forgotten ice pop a melting bright orange on her skirt as the group of police officers, escorted by the Principal walked up to her. A kindly policewoman put her in the truck and sat beside her. Susanna clutched her faded Sesame Street schoolbag to her chest as they reversed out of the schoolyard, honking busily at the horde of fascinated schoolchildren. Susanna shrank back against the seat and started to cry.
The police told her mother. They called her at work and she came at once to the station still wearing her yellow ‘Frankie’s Supermarket’ t-shirt. She sat there tightlipped at the desk as the police detailed what they knew. She turned angry eyes on Susanna, her beaded dangly earrings jangling as she shook her head. She gripped Susanna’s hand tightly and her wedding ring cut into Susanna’s fingers. She asked the police if they were sure that a young girl like Susana might not be making up stories? To cause trouble? To get attention? To make trouble for her stepfather because she didn’t like the way that he beat her the last time she was cheeky to him? Her shoulder slumped dejectedly when they told her that ‘no, a doctor has examined your daughter and she has physical signs, bruises, blood’. The interviewing room was silent as her grip on Susanna’s hand loosened and she swept a tired hand through her hair. What would she do, she asked? We live with my husband’s family you know, and my own family – they live kua and they rely on my paycheck. Ioane, he is a good man. And I have no family to stay with here in Apia. Where would we go?” The police brushed past these questions. Her concerns were not their concerns. Charges would be laid they told her, her husband would be arrested. Her mind busied ahead of them, wondering fearfully, what her husband would do and say when he found out. What would her mother-in-law do and say when she found out? How would she deal with the problems that her daughter had brought them?
Susanna was sent to stay at her Aunty Mina’s house because the courts dictated that a victim couldn’t stay in the same house as the defendant. She had to miss school for a term because her mother didn’t have enough money to pay her school fees. Everyone in the family was chipping in to help pay for Ioane’s lawyer. Her Aunty Mina had nine children – all of them older than Susanna and all of them happy to have someone new to run their errands and do their chores for them. Especially someone as quiet and pliant as her. Every night Susanna would cry silent tears under her sheet and pray again and again that her mother would forgive her and come for her. Her Aunty Mina had a heavy hand and the fat on her forearm would jiggle vigorously as she slapped Susanna and called her a ‘little moepi’ for wetting her bed. Again.
Susanna didn’t want to tell the fresh-faced lawyer from the Prosecution anything. She hung her head and kicked at the leg of the table. The lawyer was a pretty young girl, just admitted to the Bar and eager for her first case. She spoke to Susanna in English and used big words she didn’t understand. Susanna was fascinated to notice that her toenails were painted orange and exactly matched her vivid Mena puletasi. The lawyer cleared her throat a lot and wrote many things down on her notepad. The minutes dragged on as she kept repeating the same questions over and over while Susanna kept shaking her head and wiping her snot on the back of her hand. Finally the lawyer called for refreshments. Over a coconut bun, sweet and rich and a cool fizzy Fanta, the lawyer assured Susanna that she just needed to be open and honest about what had happened with her step-father and then all this would be solved and justice ‘would be served’. Susanna didn’t want to ‘serve justice.’ She just wanted her step-father to sop doing bad things to her and her mother to be happy with her again. Desperate to go home, she finally told the lawyer all she wanted to know, repeating the details in a dull monotone, staring vacantly out the window at the rubbish blowing on the seawall. A three-legged dog hobbling past, stared back at her. The lawyer was triumphantly thankful as she shook her hand goodbye. “Don’t you worry Susanna,” she said cheerfully, “everything will be fine!”
Ioane told the judge he was very sorry for what he had done. He pleaded guilty and the judge was impressed with his sincerity. He explained that he had a bad habit of watching R-rated movies from America, his wife was always working and never home and he had been unable to ‘resist temptation’. He assured the court that restitution had been made. A grand ifoga apology had been presented. No less than six whole pigs, ten cartons of herrings and thirty finemats had been offered – and accepted by Susanna’s mother’s family in Falealupo. A murmur rippled through the courtroom – oka! A more than generous contribution towards reconciliation. The man must truly be sorry for the shame he had brought upon himself and his family. He knew he must be punished for his
sins he said and he promised he judge he would never do it again. Ioane looked very humble and repentant as the judge read out his sentence. A hint of wetness glistened at the corner of each eye as he hung his head.
Although impressed with his penitent stance, the judge was unmoved. Ioane was sentenced to six years in prison – a landmark sentence in Samoa for child sexual abuse. The judge said it was time to ‘take a stand’ against what was becoming an increasingly common problem. It was a terrible thing Ioane had done, he said, and he must be made to pay for his crime. Susanna’s lawyer threw a huge V-for-victory smile in Susanna’s direction. She leaned over the table and thanked Susanna for being such a ‘star witness’. Her perfume made Susanna sneeze.
Ioane’s mother and sisters wailed loudly as he was taken away to Tafaigata Prison. Every day they took turns to bring him home cooked meals so he wouldn’t have to eat the bread soup that the other prisoners were served. They took home his washing tied neatly in a blue lavalava and his mother would lovingly press and fold each article of clothing. Every evening at family prayer, his grandmother would pray loudly for her grandson’s spiritual welfare and for everyone to have ‘loving and forgiving hearts.’ After six months Ioane was allowed weekend leave on a regular basis like the other prisoners. Mrs. Ioane’s forgiving and loving heart welcomed his visits. Ioane’s family decided that it was better for everyone if Susanna stayed with Aunty Mina permanently.
“You are a lucky girl to have such a loving aunty who wants to take care of you,” they told Susanna, “you will be much happier away from your step-father and of course his family don’t want you around anymore – not after all this bad business.” Mrs. Ioane gave her sister an extra $20 every payday for her Saturday bingo and Susanna became another ragged child in a busy household.
Susanna told her aunty she didn’t want to go to school anymore. She didn’t like the way the other children looked at her and talked about her. Aunty Mina was glad to have one less school fee to pay. Susanna stayed home and made brooms to sell outside Lucky’s Foodtown instead. One Friday afternoon Susanna’s V-for-Victory lawyer drove up in an air-conditioned car. She didn’t want to buy a salu. Her perfume made Susanna sneeze as she swept past.
Susanna’s cousin Alietta came to visit from Falealupo several months later. One night she came to see Susanna. She was crying and couldn’t stop trembling. She was confused and afraid. “My cousin – he came to my bed last night,” she said, “He did bad things to me. I tried to make him stop but he wouldn’t. He threatened to hurt me if I tell anyone. What should I do?”
Susanna looked her straight in the eye. Without hesitating she said, “Don’t tell. Don’t tell anyone anything. Ever.”
You can read more writing by Lani Wendt Young at the following links:
Sleepless in Samoa
"Pacific Tsunami Galu Afi"