Hey, you, I am a child! Don’t think that because I am so small I do not know or understand what is going on here!
And I am not just one child; I am not any child, because I know for sure that what is happening to me is also happening to other children! I get beaten for throwing a piece of paper or a chewing gum through the window, and my older sister is doing the same thing, and nobody tells her anything! O.K. I get slapped, fine, I deserve it, but then mom yells at me to “put some things into my silly head”!
When I also try to “put” things into my friend’s head the same way, he gets angry with me and would not talk to me. That confuses me, I don’t know how else to tell him that a big truck cannot pass under the bridge we made together, except to speak loudly, since that is the only way he can understand and learn.
My father did something like that too, when he caught me smoking a cigarette in the living room. He asked: “Where did you learn that? Shame on you!” I started laughing, I found it hard to believe that he could ask that. Where did I learn that? Well, daddy, I learned that from you, you even said that “you can give up anything as long as you have your cigarettes, and you would be fine.” How could I have known that this thing stinks and that it would make me cough a lot. While he, he enjoys smoking so much when I am there that I simply believed it was sweeter than chocolate.
Couple of days ago, my sister took me to movies, and we met a girlfriend of hers, to whom she said with a big smile on her face: “Hey, how are you doing, bitch?” And they hugged and kissed. But when I said it to our aunt when she came to see us, I was slapped so hard that I went dizzy. It is not my fault that I did not know what that word meant, it was, as I learned later, in a rather painful way, rather bad and insulting. And that aunt, whenever she comes, she keeps speaking about what he thinks about that person or other, what her neighbor has done, what happened to an old friend of my mother’s… When I want to tell her that her potential son-in-law steels cars, which is something I heard when my mother and father talked, I was punished and sent to my room because I was declared a gossiper and traitor. While I only wanted to share a secret I knew, and my aunt “would tell it to nobody else”, just as she had promised to those other women.
How can I then avoid being punished and beaten when they are talking about bad things with so much passion and love? I remember, last week a girl was teasing me for having put my shirt on wrong way. I could not stand it anymore, so I did to her what I saw my older brother doing. He calls it “Indian fire”. He often practices that on his wife when I come to visit, and she must have done something really bad, since she moaned so painfully when he does that. I wanted to do the same to the girl, and I earned half an hour with the pedagogue, who lectured me that these things must not be done! The next time I go to my brother’s and see him doing it, I will send him to the pedagogue, to hear that it should not be done. But, as I said, I am not alone.
At the pedagogue’s I saw a boy who put a fire cracker in a stray dog’s mouths. Terrible, I know, but it is not his fault that he listened to his father who kept saying that he would kill all stray dogs with firecrackers, not with a bullet, and he was listening all the time how dangerous and terrible the stray dogs were. His father knows the best, doesn’t he? And then they tell us that the children are not what they used to be. I say, parents are not what they used to be either. “Take the beam out of your own eye first, and then you will see clearly to take the splinter out of your brother’s eye”, says the Good Book, my dear adults.