By Gigi Gosnell
My name is Amina Salvador, 13 years old. I was born in the rural community of Santa Maria, Philippines. I want to share with you the events that prompted me to give testimony to the police. That day was the hardest day in my life. After it was done, two long months went by until my mother received the decision of the Prosecutor’s office, stating:
“A person here left unnamed raped me, while I was still a virgin. The charges against the perpetrator were two counts of rape of a minor by sexual assault and three counts of lascivious conduct.”
The course of my life changed abruptly when my mother Selina decided to leave for Dubai in search of work as a domestic worker. Before she left, she spoke to me with tears in her eyes, promising to give me a good future and proper home where I could have access to all the comforts of life, good internet access, and would be able to pursue my studies. She would also buy me new clothes and provide for adequate food so I would not starve.
My mother left me under the care of my father. He was 43 years old, a muscular and strong man. He worked as a painter for newly built church buildings. Initially, he started pampering me with fancy items, like trendy watches and expensive clothes. This might seem like he was an ideal father.
My mother is an attractive woman, rather plump, with a pleasant face. She had a difficult life. Her parents were poor and not able to give her an education. Now, she is 40 years old.
It was by accident that I found out that my mother ran away from my “father”, the man she had married. After daily beatings in the hands of her alcoholic and abusive husband, she had no choice than to go south where her parents lived.
With a small bag of clothes and photographs of the five young children she had left behind with her abusive husband, she returned to her hometown to start afresh. At the time when all this drama was unfolding, I was still not born.
I heard that I was conceived when my mother fell in love again with another man who promised her to love and protect her. I suppose that I came into life as the sweet fruit of that promise. It didn’t take long, however, for her to discover the true character of this man whom she saw as a savior from her former abusive husband. It turned out that her boyfriend was a womaniser and a very jealous person. He too was another wife-beater.
As a result, my mother ran away a second time, with a three-month-old baby growing inside her. Feeling she had nobody to turn to, she returned to the cruel husband she had left some months ago. In this way, my mother continued her old subservient life.
I was born in a dilapidated clinic in our town, and three months later I was baptized as Amina Salvador. I took my mother’s husband family name. Anselmo Salvador was the father I got to know while growing up, until my mother, black and blue from physical abuse and humiliation, fled once more. Sad to say she ran away once more to her previous lover boy, the jealous and cheater one. Are you confused by now?
I am too young to understand what was going on inside my mother’s head. All this time I just kept quiet and did not ask questions about adult matters. As a young girl, I just wanted to play with my friends, go to school, and be myself. I still considered myself a normal kid.
Dark clouds started to form a few days after my mother flew out to Dubai. As I told you before, my mother entrusted me to her live-in partner. As you remember, previously my mother had left her lover already pregnant with me. It turns out that Solomon, yes him, is my real father. That is what my mother thinks and I have no right to refute her own truth. I was only 7 years old when she and I took a long bus ride back to her old lover boy. She held my left hand tight when we reached Solomon’s house.
The fights between her and Anselmo, and her and Solomon left a lasting impression in my young mind, yet I could not understand the causes of all of this. I suppose I was just caught in the middle of some nasty adult fights, whether I liked it or not.
I remember exactly after I said goodbye to my mom at the airport, my papa started abusing me. I woke up once in the middle of the night feeling his hands sitting on me. I was crying almost every night. I didn’t tell anyone what was going on. I was too ashamed to talk to anyone. I felt dirty. I lost weight and became more reserved.
I tried to reach out to my mother, but my monster papa was controlling my cellphone and my Facebook account he had created himself. He interfered with the messages I tried to send out. I have no idea how on earth he did this.
My harrowing experience went on and on for several months until I finally got a chance to message my mother. I did not know what to say. I simply wrote, “Is it right for may papa to kiss me on my lips?”
Instinctively, my mother felt there was something completely wrong happening to me. She asked her sister, my aunt Lenny, to take me away from my papa’s house. Aunt Lenny took me to her house and stayed with me until my mother’s immediate return from Dubai.
I am in safe hands now, under the protection of my mom and aunty. My dad was arrested and is now in prison, currently applying for bail. Prior to his arrest, he posted sexually explicit materials about me and my mom on social media, exposing me and my mom to shame in front of our extended families and friends. He also tried to kidnap me at school before my mother could return from Dubai. He orchestrated a smear campaign against me to make me appear as a flirt and a lose girl. It was terrible.
I am relieved that he is in prison right now, although he is begging my mother to withdraw the charges against him in exchange for money, and all kinds of tricks to make us back down and settle out of court.
While I am happy to see the monster in prison, my mother has a different idea. She wants to protect me from the prying incursions of the court. She knows that my case may take a year or more to conclude. She keeps telling me that she just wants to me to move on with my life. She also plans to go back to Dubai to make some money so she can support me and the rest of my siblings from my other father. I tell her, “It’s up to you, mama.”
You see, I am traumatised like my mother, but I am trying to convince myself that what happened to me should not define who I am. I can’t be in a similar situation like my mother is. It is sad to say that while we are still busy with my legal case, she has met another man. At first, he appeared gentle and kind, but lately, I overheard him cursing my mother over money squabbles. So, what can I say. It’s her life.
I choose not to be broken by my story. I will fight the demons in my head. I know it won’t be easy. I will show my mother that there is another way to live, and it is to love myself.
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Gigi Baldovino Gosnell has degrees in Psychology and Education. She lectures in Psychology, worked in various NGOs, and the public service in the fields of women empowerment, land reform, social development and local government.
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