My take on violence

I did a post earlier today about a nanny being caught on camera abusing a child in her care. Some watched the video link attached and others couldn't. And that's okay. I watched it. But it made me rethink play-dates, child-care and my faith in people.

I hate violence of any sort. In primary school we lived in a little cul de sac with a tight knit group of neighbours. Because it was a dead end cars hardly ever drove through it meaning us kids would play all day and every day in the road, running from friend's house to friend's house. During school holidays we stayed 'in the streets' until moms and dads hollered from wrought iron gates to come home. We played 'skop die emmer', hide and seek, stingers, catchers, red rover. We skipped and played tennis and hopscotch.

At the end of the road was an empty house, which we often used as our 'fort' when were playing cowboys and indians or cops and robbers. Sometimes we even played 'house' in it. Of course we weren't the only ones using the house. At night homeless people would use it as a place of shelter and older kids in our street would hang out there to smoke weed and drink. Slowly it started becoming more and more dilapidated, attracting unsavoury characters (that's what my dad called them).

So, in between it being sold or torn down, the owners got security guards to look after it. But one afternoon, just after school, things came crashing down. The two guards had been drinking all day, a fight broke out and a few punches were thrown. I think the one might have smashed a bottle over the other ones head and then things got really ugly. They chased each other up the road, one bleeding from a head wound, the other with a huge metal rod. I was in my room doing homework when I heard a huge commotion (that's what my mom called it) coming from outside. I ran to our lounge window, which overlooked the road, to see a man being beaten to death by another man.

No words can describe witnessing real violence. The blood, the agonising screams, the noise of that man falling to the ground and his head hitting it. Hard. His body lay in the street for hours.

So no, I'm not big on violence and whenever I see it in any form it brings all of that back to me. I become that child in the lounge, watching helplessly, unable to do anything.

The only difference is I am now able to do something. Whether it's to give a voice to those who don't have one or to make people think twice. Or to step in and stop it.

[I've been known to jump out of my car, all 5 foot 5 of me and pull a woman out of the grips of an abusive man. I've also rammed my car into another because the driver (man) is beating up the passenger (woman)]

I made a promise to myself, a long time ago, even before becoming a mom, that I would always listen, believe and follow up on things when a child tells me someone hurt | touched | bullied | beat them..

Watching the video has only strengthened my resolve to always fight the right fight...