Makeda

I’ve been misunderstood my whole life. I was always labelled as the bad child, i was literally blamed for everything. Something broke? “It was Mekada.” Something got stolen? “It was Makeda.” No one wanted me around their kids and that carried over into my adult life. I never explained myself to people because I still carried my anger with me everyday. Heres why…

I came to Canada at the age of 3 with my sister who was 6. I met my two older brothers for the first time because they were already living with my dad. After living with my dad I moved to my grandparents house, but I was too “bad” so they sent me back to my dads house. The thing is, I was breastfed until I was 2 years old and a year later I was without a mom. I had a hard time adjusting to a new life. The next day I was on a flight back to Jamaica.

When I was in Jamaica I treated my mother terribly. I resented her because I felt like she gave me up at such a young age to people who didn’t care about me. I felt like she abandoned me. I would cut up my step fathers clothes just because. He wasn’t the kind of man to cry, but because of how I was treating him and my mother he shed tears. I didn’t want to hurt him, I had so much respect for the only real father figure I had in my life, but he was my moms husband and I couldn’t treat her bad and not him.

The summer of my ninth year on earth I came back to Canada to visit. I was staying with my aunt’s house and sleeping in her youngest daughters room. She was sleeping on her queen sized bed while I was sleeping on a sponge. You know the ones that usually go on top of the mattress? Yeah that one. Not only was there enough room for both of us on the bed, but she was older than me and when I think about it never cared. That ignited a deeper rage inside of me. I was in hand me downs. The only clothes I had that were brand new were bought for me by my uncle’s wife or I stole it from my cousin. Not even my own father bought me new clothes until he absolutely had to. I was turning into someone who did not care about anything or anyone. I found opportunities to get myself something.

When the summer was over I didn’t want to go back. They made me promise that I would behave. I made sure that the date I would have to leave passed before I wreaked havoc again. Joanne the Scammer style!

At my aunt’s house, her eldest daughter had a baby and she had bought dunkaroos for her. I never had any snacks for myself. I saw the dunkaroos and decided I wanted one. The opportunity to steal it arose, so I took it. Why shouldn’t I take it? I’m young too, why couldn’t I have any snacks? When she found out she tied me to the stairs and fed me until I vomit. Yes, that actually happened.

There was no happiness in my childhood. I hear stories about how I was spoiled, but I have no recollection of that. I was extremely unhappy, I felt like no one cared while they collected my child tax. I only saw my dad at holiday parties. He never acknowledged me either. No one even cared if I spoke to my mom. They didn’t care to make sure that I spoke to her either. All my cousins had their moms to defend them, but mine had no idea what was going on. A part of me feels like thats why I was treated the way I was. I’m thankful for my aunt who actually defended me when no one else would.

My aunt’s house was truly a nightmare. One day I caught my cousin losing her virginity. I was young and thought I should call my cousin and tell her deets, but what I happened to do instead was leave a message on her answering machine that her parents heard. They obviously told my aunt and guess who got beaten? Yep, you guessed it! The winner is me! I got beaten while this 13-year-old was slanging her vagina.

Eventually I moved back in with my dad and siblings. My eldest brother used to beat us on the bottom of our feet for no reason at all. I was so confused sometimes because I didn’t understand. A part of me thinks he was battling his own demons, but it still hurts – he eventually left, but would pop up every few years. We literally had only the basics in the house; milk, bread, egg, hot dogs, and sugar. My dad would go on dates with whatever girlfriend he was giving all his attention to at the time and put the doggy bags in the fridge. I thought that was so disrespectful! How dare you have the bare necessities in the house while you’re gallivanting and eating nice meals with your lady of the month. At school I would go to the office to eat lunch every day. They would warm up old pizza from pizza days to feed me. On top of me eating lunch at the office, I was always in the office. The build up frustration I had for all the adults in my life caused me to take it out on my peers. They were an easy target. I stabbed this kid in his eye with a pencil because he upset me.

One day the anger took over entirely. I went to the bathroom and started to wet the toilet paper so I could throw it up to the ceiling. Most of us used to do that when we were younger. After throwing the toilet paper up to the ceiling I waited for the girl to come to the bathroom. Once she was inside I lit the bathroom on fire and taped the door shut so she couldn’t get out. She lived, but we moved to Brampton after that.

Things got better after moving to Brampton. We were living in my dads girlfriends moms house. That meant my dad couldn’t bring his side pieces to her house. He was hardly ever there. We survived in that house because of my brother. Everyday after school he would steal groceries so we could eat or he would go to his friend’s house and bring dinner home for my sister and I. My first pair of jays in highschool were bought by my brother. All the trendy clothes that I was wearing was bought by my brother, not my dad.

To be continued…