I crouched on the floor and held my knees to my chest. I can't tune out the noise no matter how hard I try. I covered my ears with my palms, just so it would stop. God!, I thought to myself, just please make it stop!!! I can no longer take this. Tonight has been particularly bad, they've been at it for hours. It's quite late, and I should be sleeping at this ungodly hour. They awoke me with their noise, abuses and curses.
My parents are the ones I'm attempting to tune out of my head. They've been like this for as long as I can remember, probably long before I was born sef. Everyday, it's a new topic, a new argument, and a new reason to quarrel themselves. Honestly, I'm tired of it. I always wonder, in my head, how they came to be man and wife when they obviously cannot stand each other's presence. Sometimes when my father actually makes it home for dinner, it's a little bearable at home. We eat in peace like a real family should, and they actually smile together. Until of course, one of them says something that angers the other, and the daily rituals (shouting) are performed.
I flinched, as I heard something crash and my mother scream. Honestly, I would have preferred it if they just got divorced and didn't have to deal with each other daily. As an only child, I am privileged but very unhappy. I once heard my mother speaking on phone after one of their fights that she could not leave my father because she had a child for him (me!). I know what they say about divorce being hard on the children, and so should be the last resort or even avoided by parents. It's just that my own parents cannot seem to stop fighting, and I think I would actually do better psychologically and mentally if they are divorced. My father started hitting my mother a few months ago, first with his palms, then his fist, and now with objects. My mother is strong when she faces my father and stands her ground, but when we are alone, she weeps like someone that's lost something dear.
The most terrible thing about this quarrel is the way it started (the way it always starts):- misunderstanding!. When he got home (obviously late, and refused eating), my mother asked him why he had called her that afternoon that he wished to eat homemade moin moin when he knew he wasn't coming home to eat it. See, it's a valid question and I understand my mother's frustration. She had left work to go to the market, then came straight to pick me up at school, and we encountered a very tight traffic. We got home and she didn't even pull her shoes before resuming in the kitchen. She decided to make him a special dish aside the moin moin, which took her about 4 hours. By the time I had dinner, she was beyond tired!. I even helped her set the table, but daddy did not come home. When he did get home, my mother was brewing and to my surprise, all she did was breathe in before questioning him. This, my father considers an insult to him and his person! As a result, he's been quarrelling with my mother for hours now, and is probably throwing stuffs at her. I stood up from my crouched position and went around to peep on them. My mother was half naked, beaten, bruised and bloodied. I gasped at the horror of what I saw, my father is going to kill my mama!!!!
I'm only 10years but I knew a lot of numbers. I ran into the sitting room and first dialled 112, as mother taught me, then I dialled my grandmother (mum's ma), before calling our doctor. All I could tell them all is "Daddy is killing Mummy, hurry!!!".