On several occasions during my primary education years, I would awaken during the night with a deep sense of concern for my little brother’s wellbeing.

On several occasions I would venture into his room to check to see if he was ok, only to find him in serious danger.

His father would use the opportunity when everyone was asleep in the household to attack the defenseless toddler.

His father would cover little Leslie’s mouth so the child could not alert anyone to his predicament.

He would choke the child, cover his nostrils so he couldn’t breath, he would beat the child with his hands, a belt, and other objects.

On one occasion, when I went to Lesie’s room, it was dark, so I opened the door to the bathroom, which was next to Leslie’s room and always had the light on inside, to illuminate Leslie’s room. I saw his father pull up his underpants and rezip his pants.

His hand was covering Leslie’s mouth on this occassion as well, and I’ll never forget that look on my little brother’s face, and the terror in his eyes.

I ran to wake our mother. Up to this point she was usually reluctant to get out of bed and intervene on Leslie’s behalf.

I told her what I saw and that seemd to upset her. She lept out of bed and went into the utility room which was where little Leslie slept.

She confronted Leslie’s father, and showed more concern for little Leslie on this occasion than any of the others before.

Little Leslie told her that his father had put his genitals in his face and had tried to put his penis in his mouth, before I had interrupted him.

Our mother got really upset that night! She swore she was going to protect her child from now on. His father tried to deny anything had happened.

Morning cam qucikly and our mother awoke us for school. On occasions like these, I tried to tell her that Leslie didn’t get much rest and shouldn’t be sent to school.

Our mother couldn’t comprehend such things and would always send the poor child to school without much rest after such traumatic episodes.

On this occasion she prepared little Leslie herself, she didn’t let his father bath him like he liked to do, as he would use it as another opportunity to abuse the child.

I remember we had to walk to school as our parents didn’t have a car at the time. So Leslie, myself, and our sister Marsena set out for school that morning.

Little Leslie did not say a word, he walked with a trance like expression on his little face as he tightly hugged his little school bag in front of him.

My heart really went out to my little brother that morning. I had to hold him back at one intersection as it appeared he was about to walk into oncoming traffic.

I put my arm around him at that point, reassured him, took our sisters hand with my other arm and that is how we carried on until we arrived at school.

As I recall, we arrived just a few minutes late. That meant we were going to get a beating from the school principal, who was a relative of our father.

It was a hard strapping, as the principal usually gave. She seemed to enjoy it too. I wondered if it was something that ran in their family, this enjoyment of violence against little children.

I witnessed little Leslie get strapped! My heart really went to him again, words couldn’t describe it, they simply can’t do him justice.

After school, little Leslie would walk home with his sister and brother, no doubt with fear and anticipation of what awaited him.

Author’s note: The exact date and time of the following events are not known. They have had to be approximated in order to post the content.