Nocturnal Wenchy

African Hips Don't Lie

The food isn’t up to standard?

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

The kids were already in their car seats. I didn’t know how to drive,  but I had the kids ready so we could leave the moment he arrives.  It was getting late.

I was in a concert at church and we had been rehearsing for weeks. I was very excited to be singing and didn’t want to disappoint.

I phoned him many times that day.  Pleasantly reminding him that he really needs to be home in time tonight. I felt too scared to say  “Please be sober”, but I prayed it.

I looked at him. Passed out on the bed after yet another Friday night of binge drinking. I had asked so nicely.

I felt the bile rise in my throat. The disappointment paralysed me. I just stood there. No concert for me. Only explanations I loathed to give. The sadness sat deeply uncomfortable within me. He does not deserve my tears.

After awhile you don’t fight.  You don’t cry.  You breathe.  You exist. You long for Monday to go to work to get away. You die. Piece by piece. Don’t confuse this behavior with acceptance. Coping. That is all. Time makes it easier, but it heals nothing.

I thought to myself that I cannot let my children believe destruction is what marriage is about. This is not how I grew up. This is not how my story ends.

My overwhelming desire was much more disturbing. “I could totally take you out.  I could kill you and feel nothing.” I would even phone the police.  I had no intention of running.

That is the game changer. I didn’t.

I stood in that doorway for a long time,  then I turned around and took my sleeping children out of their car seats. I carried them to their beds. I remember being so thankful that they remained asleep.

I sat in the lounge all night weighing up my options. My income was tiny,  my kids were so small,  I’m so young – how do I get out? Acknowledging all the difficulties to follow, I filed for divorce. I removed my children from an unhealthy environment and I left.

Christopher Panayiotou didn’t. I don’t know why he didn’t want to be in that marriage anymore. It doesn’t really matter.

He settled for premeditated murder. Abduction. Fear. Begging. Theft. Disbelief. I wonder what the young woman in those beautiful pictures were thinking as her life ended?

I hoped she was spared the realisation that the person she vowed to spend her life with, was indeed the mastermind of her death.
Another element that angers me is that this specimens (You cannot call him a man,  a husband or anything remotely human) used the racial devide and tension in our country to help fuel the racist fire.

He successful got the public vote,  doting on his dead wife. Shouting in one voice against the “black barbarians”,  the senseless murder of another white woman.

People were asking for the death penalty…. and he amongst them I suspect. Bet he feels a bit more lenient towards himself now.

Christopher Panayiotou has been arrested,  charged and is asking for bail because life in prison isn’t all that grand and to quote his attorney : ” The food isn’t up to standard.”

With my biggest,  blackest accent, that only South Africans may get “Serious!”

I wish you enough,

Posted to WordPress from the Galaxy of Samsung from the second cloud on your left.

5 responses to “The food isn’t up to standard?”

  1. Ons wereld is stukkend! Dis al. A woman died and the food isn’t up to standard. Waar is ons menswees heen?


  2. Beautifully written, with strength….


  3. I’m glad you had the strength to leave a bad marriage and I’m sad that other people make the wrong choices.


  4. […] a raw post about her own decision to leave her marriage and about how the better choices were made. The food isn’t up to standard is actually a quote from the murder’s lawyer about the prison […]


  5. Wow. You write what I always felt.


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About Me

Mom to many, wife to SirNoid. Lover of water, walks in the shade and all things purple.

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