Cruelty and Tormented Childhood

Yemenat

Ahmed Saif Hashed

At one stage of my childhood, I did what most boys my age would not dare to do. I frequently swept the house, cleaned all its corners and facilities. I toiled on the ground, tended to the sheep, carried cow dung on my head, and assisted my mother with tasks she could not manage, especially during her pregnancies and childbirth. Due to sweeping, smoke, and the trials of being mischievous, I developed asthma and nearly lost my life twice.

In the fifth and sixth grades, I walked about ten kilometers every day to reach school, and another ten kilometers on the way back. Later, while living in the dormitory, I endured hunger, poverty, and malnutrition.

* * *

I lived a phase of my childhood under the cruelty of my father, which exceeded what was common and usual among people. I rebelled against him and his authority, which seemed excessive and tyrannical to me. I resisted the many injustices that weighed heavily on me, feeling daily that oppression was devouring me and crushing my bones.

My father’s parenting policy relied primarily on severity and cruelty. He treated me with the same harshness: “Beat your son and discipline him; he will only die when his time comes.” In my father’s view, beating toughens boys and shapes them into remarkable men. He was convinced of this, believing that this method had worked with my brother Ali, who had turned out well, making my father proud and filled with a sense of achievement.

* * *

As my childhood progressed, I helped my parents in their relentless work that began at dawn and continued until after nightfall. During this time, I endured repeated beatings from my father in a grueling journey filled with hardship and torment.

It became normal