The confrontation

The problem with my parents was and still is, they can't let me go, and I can't break free from them either. From extreme opposite sides of the fence, neither of us accepts defeat, so the situation continues, never improving.

When I went home I was really scared of what my father was going to say. As i've never lived with him for longer than a few months, we don't really know each other. Most of my life my sisters and I viewed him as someone to be scared of, although he never did anything to warrant this. But fathers in our families are generally feared, for no other reason apart from the fact that they're men and what they say or do is right and to be obeyed. They generally keep a distance from children and are the breadwinners, seldom taking part in looking after children. This is changing now but was very typical back then.

I went upstairs to where my mum was first. She was lying in bed, talking nonsense and appeared delirious, asking, is that you? What happened to you? Did you get lost? It was an act for me to see how my absence had affected her and it worked, I started to cry and said I was sorry.

Then was the confrontation with my father. He was angry and asked lots of questions. Where had I been? Why had I moved out of the flat? Who was the man with me, was he my boyfriend?

I was cowardly and instead of telling the truth I lied, saying Alex was a friend who’d helped me move my stuff to a new place and I was doing nothing wrong. There was shouting, there were lectures, what an awful daughter I’d been, how I’d abused their trust, I should move back home, get married.

But the freedom they’d given me now meant I no longer relied on them for anything, so there was no reason for me to concede to any of their wishes. I was independent, I had my own car, I rented a flat and had a grant for my PhD which was enough to live on. Although scared, I didn't back down as I had no reason to.

This period was bad for everyone. After the initial confrontation, I visited home occasionally to appease them, we’d argue each time, they’d ask the same questions and I’d tell the same lies. Being religious, they prayed day and night I’d stop what I was doing. It would have been one of the darkest and most desperate periods of their lives as they had no control over me, their bright and intelligent daughter who they’d been so proud of and who they’d placed so much trust in.

Control and influence over children, no matter how old, is essential in our family. Parents are respected and their wishes, no matter how unreasonable are to be followed by their children. Not discarded the way I was doing so.

What I did was the biggest breach of trust that I could have committed. My parents were well respected in our community and had always defended my extensive studying to others, for a girl to be over the age of twenty and living away from home was unheard of. My father had been proud to say I was studying for a PhD and boasted the merits of women studying.

Yet I lived with hurting them the way I did, for my own gains. Looking back now I can’t believe I did it, I feel so awful and ashamed even thinking about it, at the things I said, which i'll live with for the rest of my life. Seeing it here in black and white makes it seem even worse.

I said I’d complete my PhD and made loose promises everything would be fine afterwards. We argued a lot, they prayed a lot and I found the strength to not back down.

I’m surprised at how strong and obstinate I was. I think being in love gave me a clear objective to fight for, as well as my freedom. I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking up with Alex, although we did have a brief period apart. Or perhaps I such a "gori" (white girl) as they said, I could reject my family easier than I imagined.