I wasn’t like the typical woman in my circle of friends, perhaps because I didn't know how to handle men. From my brothers' examples, I knew pain and rejection would follow. My father never showed or taught me how to interact with men.

 

There is one conversation with my dad that I remember vividly. At that time, my dad was already retired, and with part of his retirement money, he bought a car. I was 15 and the only sibling still living at home. So, my dad decided to take me with him on a trip to Durban on the South Coast, where his brother lived. I’m not sure why, but my mom stayed behind. The trip to Durban took about eight or nine hours. He only stopped once to buy us a drink, asking me what I wanted. That was it.

 

On the way back home he took a different route through the Majuba Mountains. He unexpectedly asked me, “What happened on Majuba Mountain?"

What?! He started a conversation with me but with a history question. That’s my worst subject, and I didn’t know the answer. Why couldn’t he ask me something else? I just sat there, letting him explain what happened at Majuba. He might have added that it’s quite sad that I don’t even know the history of Majuba.

 

As children, we all had a deep-seated fear of my dad. I’m not sure why because he never shouted at us or punished us physically. He had a unique presence that commanded respect. One night, my two mischievous brothers had to wash the dishes after dinner. My mom was in the bedroom sewing, and my dad was sitting in the dining room. My brothers got into an argument over who should wash and who should dry the dishes. This went on long enough to drive my dad to his breaking point. He got up, went to the kitchen drawer, took out two large kitchen knives, and told my brothers to go outside. He gave each of them a knife and said... "Come on. There you go. Now kill each other.” Of course, he knew they would never do that, but the main thing is that they got the message. Loud and clear!

 

There was one incident, however, that gained me some “street cred”. I used to have a habit of walking and talking in my sleep. One night, late in the evening, all of us kids were in bed. My dad was sitting at the corner of the dining room table with a little bottle of Coke in front of him, talking to my mum. I walked in while sleepwalking. I approached him, picked up the Coke, drank it all, set the empty bottle down, turned around, and returned to bed. It seems that he found it quite amusing.

 

It is quite sad that my dad found it so difficult to relate to us. After work, he sometimes visited Costa in the café. Then, he'd buy a small bag of pick-a-mix chocolates and place it in the dining room sideboard. Word would quickly spread when there was a new bag of chocolates, and we would all sneak in to take one. We dared not take more than one because we were afraid he would find out. He must have known we were doing it, but he never said anything. I guess it was his way of giving us something nice.

My dad was also very strict when it came to mealtimes. He insisted that we eat the food my mum prepared for us. Thankfully, she was a good cook. But, at times, one of us would whisper, "Just a little cabbage, Mum," as she served the food. If my dad heard that, he'd say, "Give him the whole bowl of cabbage." That was all you got. I remember one Sunday when my dad bought a slab of ice cream. As my mum was cutting us each a slice, my brother whispered, “Cut me a bigger slice, Mum.” My dad overheard him and, to our surprise, said, “Give him the whole slab.” My mum couldn’t believe it, and neither could we. My brother had to eat the entire slab, and we got nothing. Unsurprisingly, he felt quite ill afterwards.

 

When it came to dating, I wasn’t as enthusiastic as my friends. I thought I was picky about who I dated. But, I now see I lacked a healthy framework for relationships. During my first job at the bank, I shared a room in a boarding house with other young people. There was one guy who kept asking me out on a date. I went out with him once but quickly decided I didn’t like him. One Friday, he arranged with my friend to pack a bag with clothes for the weekend and put it in his car. When I got home from work, they made up a story to get me in his car. He drove me for two hours to meet his parents. I was not impressed and never spoke to him again. I disliked any kind of control.

 

Unfortunately, the men I liked weren’t interested in me, and I often faced rejection. Sadly, that was the only framework I understood, and the more people rejected me, the more messed up I became. The only relationship that lasted for a significant amount of time was with a decent and great guy. I waited for him to reject me, as this had been the story of my life. Eventually, when that didn't happen, I took matters into my own hands. I accepted a date from another guy, knowing my boyfriend would see me. I got caught, and the relationship ended. We stayed friends. But, for years, he played a cat-and-mouse game with me. He wanted me to rekindle our relationship so he could pay me back for what I did.

 

I never considered this unorthodox approach to courting. Yet, much worse awaited me when I decided to marry a non-Christian guy I hardly knew. In my forties, God started guiding me through painful memories. He showed me how I had confused "rejection" with "love" and let it control my life.