Read on Twitter
Today is father& #39;s day. I have a father he is still alive, I grew up in his house, but I don& #39;t know if he deserves to be called that by me. I love him don& #39;t get me wrong, I am his seed, but year after year I wondered if I was truly his daughter. But the resemblance couldn& #39;t deny.
He failed to buy me clothes, that God had to touch outsiders to be my helpers. I got clothes from people I didn& #39;t even know. No I wasn& #39;t the only child, we suffered the same fate, but as we grew older I realized it hits hard on me more than the others.
I would be beaten for things I knew nothing about, my siblings blamed for every thing, maybe they thought I don& #39;t feel pain, I can take their strokes as well. And their blame games awarded me a name, (selo se sa utlwing). He didn& #39;t have interest in my side of a story.
To him I could never tell the truth. I would go days without food, and I ended up being served by a rubbish bin. I made a decision to seek for matogo at the age of 14. By God& #39;s grace I got 5 houses to do their laundry. Still no one believed me.
They concluded I get money from men. I continued working though. When I didn& #39;t get paid, I would be denied food, but when I get paid I would be treated like a saviour. I forgot that I didn& #39;t have shoes, because I loved the way they treated me when I had money.
So I would spend everything just to be loved by them. Then my darkest hour came, I was raped, instead of him trying to understand my pain, all I could get from him was. O kgotsofetse! I needed a father to sympathize with me, but I guess I was alone.
