Domestic Violence

Today Christina decided to have her hair braided like mine. I took her to the salon where I had my hair done. I knew it was going to take several hours to complete it, so I decided to help. Imagine the shock of the Africans when they discovered that I, with my "White" self, could braid hair. It was an ordinary Ghanian day and we were taking it all in. The goats lazily ate grass. The chickens kept coming into the salon. The villagers stopped by and talked to us for awhile. The day was totally typical. All of a sudden a little boy, around the age of 5 or 6, comes crying and screaming down the road. His voice was filled with terror. Everyone stopped and looked to see what, or who, was chasing the child. A woman, with a child attached to her back comes walking quickly behind the boy. She was enraged. She quickly grabbed the boy, who I later learned was her son, and begins beating him in his face. Repeatedly she slaps and punches the boy as he screams in pain and humiliation. Everyone is watching in shock. Finally the shop owner, lowers Christina's braid and runs over to the woman. She rips the boy from his mothers arms. The mother continues to chase after her and the boy, hitting him over and over again. Christina tells the boy to come into the hair salon. He comes into the salon and sits beside me trembling and sobbing. He seemed so small. So defenseless. He could not fight back. She was bigger. She was livid. She was his mother. His shirt and pants were torn. He had no shoes. He was clearly one of the many children in Ghana who do not attend school. The mother stood at the edge of the road yelling into the shop. Accusing the boy, "He has eaten all of my provisions. We will go hungry." (Christina later translated this for me). Then, it just ended. The boy stopped crying. He got up, on his own accord, and followed his mother home. Everyone returned to their homes. It was over. I wanted to cry. I could not believed I had just witnessed such violence. I could not believe I had just witness such violence toward a child. I could not believe I had just witnessed such violence toward a child by his own mother. What could that child do? Who could protect him? How many times had his mother hit him in his home and he could not run outside to seek refuge from the villagers? Why is it that we have this disgusting and warped idea that parents can be violent toward their children in order to teach them? or correct them? or, dare I say, love them? When I am speaking of violence toward children, I mean every "spanking", slap, "whopping", thrown book, push, shove that any child receives from any adult. It is wrong. This child's beating was no different than the "spanking" with a belt, spoon, switch, hand, electric cord that children get in America. This boys screams sounded just like theirs. This boys tears were the same. This boys desire for safety from such violence was the same. Something has to be done. If this boy had been an adult woman people would have been outraged. People would say, "No man who hits you loves you." Can we say the same to children? "No man/woman who hits you loves you". It seems a little disturbing to think of it that way...because for many of us that would mean reflecting on our own childhoods. Our very own parents would come into question. We would reply images of our 5, 6, 7, 8 year old selves being abused in the name of love. Perhaps some would question the way they interact with there own children. They might have many different reactions. Defense: "The bible says, spare the rod, spoil the child". Denial: "I spank my children but it is not abuse." Displacement of blame: "I was spanked, and I don't think there is any other way." Or maybe, just maybe, someone will join me in breaking the cycle of child abuse by choosing to interact with their own children in non-violent ways.