EL INGENIERO RAÚL CHAMALÉ

My mother finally realized that the beatings she took from my father would never end and that the abuse was not just for her for for me as well. The day my father took a knife and put it to her neck after he had beat her, was the last time I ever saw my father put hands on her. I can still feel her whole body shaking as she held me close when we were asleep. In the morning she woke me up and told me to get ready because we were going on a trip. We could not say good bye to my father , he would never let us go. So I grabbed a little stuffed dog he had bought me and got dressed. My mother asked me to tie make a bow on the back of her dress for her because she could not reach. I grabbed the straps on each side of her dress and tied a knot, she asked that I make it tighter; she was so thin I could have wrapped those straps around her 4 times and still had enough to make a good size bow. We got to the airport and flew to Chicago. Life has never been easy for a single mother . The United States was so different from our home town in Central America. My mother worked grave yard and after about a year she decided I could not continue staying alone all night and most of the day while she slept. I was around 6 years old and needed someone to watch over me. She decided I would be better off with my grandmother. She said she had to stay and take care of some things but that she would be with me in two days. Those two days turned into 6 years.

I loved living with my grandparents. My father and mother made sure I never went without and always sent money and whatever else I needed. I was an angry, rebellious child and my grandparents could not continue watching me. It was decided that I go live with my god parents. They had no children. He was an engineer and she stayed home or helped my grandmother with the restaurant they owned in the city. My god mother wanted children but could not conceiver and here I was parentless. It was perfect! a match made in heaven.

Soon after her husband started taking a different type of interest in me. He was thrilled that I lived with them. He was very well known and highly thought of and respected everywhere we went. He was wealthy, owned a car and designed homes. Always well dressed, very well mannered and highly educated. Never drank, never smoked, always proper, church every Sunday and now he got to play the "father" role as well. No one in the family ever made any moves without his approval. He ruled over everyone and everyone listened to him and did as he said. The man was quiet and always proper. He had everyone fooled.

I always thought he was odd and the way he looked at me sometimes made me think he was crazy, something was definitely not right about him. He always asked me to sit a certain way or to stand in certain spots and I remember I hated having to stand there while he made all kinds of weird sounds . I never saw what he was doing and at the time all i wanted was to be allowed to go to my room or watch tv. He never touched me at first. Later he asked me to sit on his lap and things just got weirder and finally one day he pulled down his pants and asked i touch him. I never was scared before because my aunt was always home when he started with his weirdness; but that day I cried. I didn't want to I asked him why? He got scared thinking my aunt would come in because I was crying and he said in my ear "I am not going to hurt you", I don't think I thought he was, it was just so disgusting to have to touch someone else's privates I thought.

This continued for the whole 6 years I was in Central America. I went from living with my grandmother to living with my godparents back to my grandmother's house because my grandfather noticed a change in me. He asked why i was so evasive and why it was I never wanted to go home alone with my godfather. My grandmother took me back home with her. Things were better because I did not see him all the time. I was never asked why or if anything had happened , so i never spoke of it.

When my mother finally came to pick me up, I told her about it. I did not realize what a disgusting man my godfather was. My mother cried and she told my aunts and my grandmother what I had said. My aunt, his wife, called me a liar. She said I always lied and that I was not to be trusted because I liked to make things up. My mother's younger sister said to my godmother, I do not think she is lying. So my godmother said "Well if he showed you his privates, describe what they look like. What does it look like?" So, I did. I described it and answered all of her questions. My mother cried and my mother's younger sister said, "There is no way in hell, this child would know all of that had he not shown her. Do not dare say she spied on him while he showered because even if she had she still would not know all the things she just described if he had not pulled his pants off in front of her". I still was not believed. My mother then took me to the doctor who said I had been lucky there was no penetration but I did have redness from the fondling and sent us home with a prescription to help with the redness.

My mother told me I could not tell my father of the abuse unless I wanted him to go to jail for killing my godfather. I honestly still was not quite sure of what had happened or how bad it was. I knew it was not a good thing but since I was never penetrated I did not know then that that was what was coming. It was not until I turned 13 that it hit me. I realized why everyone was so upset at all the things I said had happened. I got very angry, angry at the way things had been handled by the adults in my life. My mother, how could she cover for him? For her sister's sake she said he was all she had. How pathetic I thought, how pathetic.

I never let my father or any other man get close enough to me for a tight hug or a kiss on the cheek, I hated being touched I felt they were all waiting to do the same thing my godfather had done. No one in the family seemed to care, remember or even acknowledge what had happened to me. I was to act normal and have good manners with my godfather, good morning, good night a kiss on the cheek ... or people might suspect something was not right. I remember visiting Guatemala when my son was 9 months old. My mother and I were going to the store which was at the corner of the block, she suggested I leave my son with my godfather because we were going to be "right back"... I looked at her and said "No, I am not leaving the baby with him." My mother made a comment like "oh my god what could happen in 10 minutes you are so dramatic." I thought to myself , a lot can happen in less than that.

My mother finally told my father about the abuse because he was always trying to hug me and give me kisses and I always pushed him away. My father asked me once in the car if I had any questions about what had happened and if I wanted to go to therapy. I attended therapy for a bit but did not feel a stranger could understand or help. I did not understand how knowing what he was everyone in the family still welcomed him and still today go on outings with him and talk of him as if he did nothing wrong, me on the other hand. I have to get over what happened to me for my own good they say. I am only hurting myself with all the hatred I feel and its killing my soul. What they do not realize is that every time I see a picture posted that he is in with them on a trip, its a slap across my face but they claim to love me like a sister or a daughter. LIES, if that was so I am sure their take on things would be different but sine it happened to me and I had no adult who cared... I just have to get over it and move on before it kills me.

I recently had a psych evaluation and in this evaluation I was asked if I felt dirtily about what had happened to me. If I felt it was my fault. When it was happening I didn't feel one or the other . It was just something that happened and that was that. When I became aware of what it was I didn't feel ditty or guilty or ashamed I was ANGRY i felt so much anger toward all the adults in my life who failed me. How could anyone allow something so awful to happen to a child under their care? Even if things happened and no one was aware to do anything then what about after ? They knew and they still did nothing. I guess some things are better kept under the rug where no one knows and no one sees for the sake of not shaming the family with such things...