My family is originally from Liberia; during 1999 my country had its second civil war. My parents weren’t really worried about the war reaching to our part of the country because we lived a small village practically off the grid. The rebels did not invades until a couples months into the war My family had to leave with just the shirts on their back and some food, My mom and I went to my grandparent’s village. My older brother with my dad went to his parent’s village. During this time the rebels were bombing, raiding, all the heinous things you can imagine not caring who they hurt. Our family was split up for a couple’s year. We made telephone calls to check on one another. After about a year, rebels invaded my grandparent’s village. I lost
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Now a women being a bred winner is very odd in African culture, because males predominantly are the bred winners of the family. This did not sit well with my dad, how could he be at home while his wife worked as if she was the man of the house? Since he wasn’t working he did the next best thing, he drunk in the morning, evening, night. When Prince and I would come home from school he would be at he dining room table with beer cans and glass bottles just littered all over the floor. I could name 7 brands of beer before 7 presidents. Whenever mom would tell him to clean up his act he would shout profanities at her, verbally degrading and abusing her, and if he were drunk enough he would hit her. He would hit me but not as often as Prince. See Prince wasn’t his; Prince’s dad had died in the first civil war. To me Prince would always be my brother regardless if we shared a father or not. I played nice, I was his favorite, and if I didn’t complain about anything nobody got hit. If Prince and I roughhoused I didn’t cry if I got hurt, I kept it all in. My mom got the short end of the stick. Often times in the middle of the night my Dad Joe would kick her out of the bed room and into living room just because he could, he degrade her in every way
Now a women being a bred winner is very odd in African culture, because males predominantly are the bred winners of the family. This did not sit well with my dad, how could he be at home while his wife worked as if she was the man of the house? Since he wasn’t working he did the next best thing, he drunk in the morning, evening, night. When Prince and I would come home from school he would be at he dining room table with beer cans and glass bottles just littered all over the floor. I could name 7 brands of beer before 7 presidents. Whenever mom would tell him to clean up his act he would shout profanities at her, verbally degrading and abusing her, and if he were drunk enough he would hit her. He would hit me but not as often as Prince. See Prince wasn’t his; Prince’s dad had died in the first civil war. To me Prince would always be my brother regardless if we shared a father or not. I played nice, I was his favorite, and if I didn’t complain about anything nobody got hit. If Prince and I roughhoused I didn’t cry if I got hurt, I kept it all in. My mom got the short end of the stick. Often times in the middle of the night my Dad Joe would kick her out of the bed room and into living room just because he could, he degrade her in every way