When recalling my own childhood memories, I realize they are so disturbingly emotional and painful at times that I dare not speak about them on a public platform. I never do. I try not to open up on those lines even to my so called 'close' friends..
One of my early memories was one of terror. I was very young, about seven or eight years old. I found myself being physically violated by one of my teenage cousins. I had been taking an afternoon nap, when this brother of mine came from behind and slid under my blanket, it was winter. I had the blanket pulled almost nearer to my head. I remember a lot of the trivial details like the color of my shirt and and that of the balnket and many other similar stuff. But I cannot really recall the sequence of that traumatic experience. However, to this day, I can’t stand anything over my face and head.
I remember being accused of saying something derogatory about that cousin of mine sometime later, obviously I had not spoken about the actual act of sodomy - I could never have pleaded helplessness, that's what I thought, that's what bothered me, I couldn't prove it wasn’t me who should have been reprimanded!!!!!! Perhaps that’s why I can’t tolerate movies about people who are charged with crimes they didn’t commit.