Article: Gugu Mofokeng

It is still not easy for me to cope with that situation, but I am trying very hard to face my giant. In the name of love, I again found myself trapped with a psychopath, but because of God, who is the source of my life and destiny, he gave me another chance to prove to the world that he alone "can turn my scars into stars"; "my pains into other people's gains" and "bad into good."

All my life I have experienced abuse, and yet today I am a strong and confident woman in pursuit of my destiny and because I understand that God was training me for a great battle that women, children and men are facing. The experiences were not easy, but today I believe it was worth it. There is this myth that Christian women cannot be abused, it's not true, I think many are wearing masks and are scared to tell the truth. Abuse has no gender, colour, race or religion.

I got myself trapped with a psychopath in 2006. At the time, I was still hurting and on the run from another abusive man. Initially I thought to myself that God must finally be answering my prayers, giving me a father, a friend and the man of my dreams.

He loved me and couldn't live without me. He asked me to move into a back room with him at his mother's house. I loved him so much, so I left my house to stay with him. For a year and five months, I totally abandoned my house and it was broken into twice. We were together 24 hours 7 days a week and lived as if we could not breathe without one another.

He introduced me to pornography and dagga, so that I can be high and do the things we saw in movies. Again because I thought this was love, I did those things. Because of my desire to please him, I turned into a sex slave. He enjoyed sex in such a way that when I was busy or tired he would cry. He would literally lock me in the room for us to be together. If I wanted to go to my house or to visit my family he would accompany me, but two hours away from his place was too much.

When his friends came to visit him five minutes was too long, after which he would chase them away. He allowed some friends to stay longer, but on leaving, he would accuse me of having affairs with them and beat me up. His method was this: he would never beat me during the day; he would switch the lights off, sit on my torso with my arms at my side and only my head exposed, he would slap me nonstop for what felt like three or four hours, until my face became numb and swollen.

While beating me he would accuse me of "ukumfebela" while also telling me about how much he loved me. In the end, he would blame me from having pushed him to do what he did, cry, apologise, then lock me in the room and buy me gifts. He would still have sex with me as part of saying sorry.

When went to buy food, clothes, furniture and even my underwear, together. He abused me financially, he never gave me money, he chose the clothes I wore and the food I ate. Sometimes he would prevent me from seeing my family and from checking my house. There were times I ran away only for him to find me.

One day I decided to run away to a place he would never suspect. I switched off my cellphone for a month, but he finally found me. Since I loved him, I went back with him. In the month that I had left him, he found himself another woman who moved in. He told me he did not love her and he was sorry. When we went back to "our home" that night, the woman came.

He tried to stop her from entering, but she fought her way in. He tried to solve the matter but the woman refused to go anywhere. She undressed and got into the bed that I thought was only for the two of us. At midnight, he carried me onto the bed. He raped me, in his words, to justify his love for me.

After that, the other woman asked him for sex and they did it in front of me. I felt dead and useless, as if this was not happening. The following morning, I went to open a rape case. After much pressure from his family and friends and as a way to leave him, I withdrew the case.

I ran away again and I found a home for abused women in Boksburg, where I stayed for six months. On my return in January 2008, he found out I was back. He came and told me he was a changed man and that he wanted to marry me. He begged me until I fell for it because I still believed I loved him, but I soon saw he had not changed.

Instead, he accused me of sleeping with white men while I was at the place of safety. He saw that my life had indeed changed and that I was now pursuing my dreams. I went on radio to counsel and motivate other women and to train them on abuse. He became jealous that I had found myself, and his new mission was to oppress me.

At the end of February, I told him I was ending the relationship and he said he would rather we both die than end it. I repeated this for a whole week until he saw that I was serious. On March 3 2008, he came to my house drunk and took me out by force, threatening throughout the night to kill us both.

On our return to the house after midnight, I told him to stop coming to my place. He then began to beat me, he grabbed me by my hair and bit off a part of my left ear and tried to bite off another piece, leaving my ear in two pieces. He was also poking my eyes, he pulled my hair and when I broke free, he was holding a clump of my hair in this hand. On top of it all he also stabbed me in the head.

After a mammoth struggle, I was able to run away and 15 minutes later, my house was on fire. I opened a case. I struggled to understand the court proceedings, but the matter is still on.

What I like is that I am still alive to tell other women out there that "get out early while you are still alive and stay beautiful. Don't let your vulnerability and need for love expose you. Know the difference between love and obsession." Finally, I was able to take charge of my life and I am now single, strong and have regained my sense of worth .I am empowering other women out there. I am busy registering a shelter for abused women and children. I am unstoppable now.

This story is part of the I Stories series produced by the Gender Links Opinion and Commentary Service for the Sixteen Days of Activism on Gender Violence.
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