My parents never slept together as far as I remember. During this period, Mama and Baby slept in one room, Didi and me and him in another. I guessed this was segregation of duties. Mama took care of the youngest and hardest child, while he slept with the two elder ones.
At this time, we were not allowed to watch TV. We had to sleep by 8pm. When Didi and I lie on the bed, father would be watching TV outside the room. When Didi couldn't sleep, he got me to play with him in the room. If we were heard, father would come and beat me. If I told him that Didi played as well, he would say that I was the eldest so it was my fault. When I couldn't sleep and tried to play with Didi, it was often unsuccessful. When I tried to play with him, I didn't dare to make any sound. I had to test his reaction slowly, either by whispering to him or touching him gently. If I realised he didn't want to play, I had to just shut myself. If I was eager to play and kept trying to raise his interest, at some point he would shout and father would come in and beat me. Everything WAS my fault.
Besides this, I often felt the need to put Didi in good mood so that he wouldn't fight with me and got me beaten by father. I felt that I had to make him like me, so father would not beat me. However, it was hard. He took it for granted when I gave way to him whatever he liked. When I accidentally did something that displeased him or did not do what he wanted, I knew my body would hurt again. Everything WAS my fault. How could I not hate boys?
At this time, we were not allowed to watch TV. We had to sleep by 8pm. When Didi and I lie on the bed, father would be watching TV outside the room. When Didi couldn't sleep, he got me to play with him in the room. If we were heard, father would come and beat me. If I told him that Didi played as well, he would say that I was the eldest so it was my fault. When I couldn't sleep and tried to play with Didi, it was often unsuccessful. When I tried to play with him, I didn't dare to make any sound. I had to test his reaction slowly, either by whispering to him or touching him gently. If I realised he didn't want to play, I had to just shut myself. If I was eager to play and kept trying to raise his interest, at some point he would shout and father would come in and beat me. Everything WAS my fault.
Besides this, I often felt the need to put Didi in good mood so that he wouldn't fight with me and got me beaten by father. I felt that I had to make him like me, so father would not beat me. However, it was hard. He took it for granted when I gave way to him whatever he liked. When I accidentally did something that displeased him or did not do what he wanted, I knew my body would hurt again. Everything WAS my fault. How could I not hate boys?