When I was in nursery school, we had a maid. And then there was a relative about the same age with the maid too. They were older and helped around with the chores. My mum made me believe they both were my sisters, so I rolled with it.
Straight to the point, they were mean. First, the relative, then the maid got infected. My mum trusted them so much and well, she had to work. These girls were mean to me, I feared them so much I couldn’t even tell my mum about what they did.
Ok, we know children can be really annoying sometimes and stretch your patience so far, but they do not deserve to be treated like goats.
Then, I’d come back from school with my lunch (mostly rice or spaghetti) half eaten because I didn’t like to eat. The food would have gone irredeemably sour, but when I came home I’d eat it, not because I was hungry, or because it was a rule in my house not to throw food away but because that was what they made me do.
The first time it happened, I was alarmed at how my sisters could be so mean to me. I vomited, I mean the food was smelly and slimy, they (especially the relative) beat me up. I had to learn to eat sour food. I grew wiser, I’d throw the food away in school and act like I finished it. I knew they didn’t believe me, but they just did not have evidence.
NOTE: My mother was so good to these people I honestly thought they were her children.
They did more. Somehow, I always managed to find a way of escape. I never told my mother still, until they both left, after I had grown older.
My brother came along, I was in boarding school then. They got him two maids when he started nursery school. One about for years older than the other, actually older than me. The first time I met them, I remembered my experience and in less than one year…..
To be continued…..