My Mums My Foe

Copyright © 2014 by Kevin Naicker.

Library of Congress Control Number:            2013906472

ISBN:                       Hardcover                          978-1-4836-2247-7

                                 Softcover                            978-1-4836-2246-0

                                 eBook                                 978-1-4836-2248-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 02/28/2014

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CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

FOREWORD

CHAPTER 1: THE QUINTESSENTIAL

CHAPTER 2: A METAMORPHOSIS OCCURS

CHAPTER 3: THE RESURGENCE

CHAPTER 4: AND THE DREADED GAME, SET, AND MATCH

CHAPTER 5: A CALM BEFORE THE STORM

CHAPTER 6: THEN THE STORM

CHAPTER 7: ORGANISING A BIRTHDAY PRESENT

CHAPTER 8: THE DAY I DIED

CHAPTER 9: SO THE TRUTH HAS TO SURFACE, ONE DAY…

CHAPTER 10: HUNTING FOR THE TRUTH

CHAPTER 11: OTHER LADIES IN MY LIFE…

CHAPTER 12: THE MEDICAL SCHOOL SAGA

CHAPTER 13: A SABBATICAL TO AFRICA

CHAPTER 14: YOUR MISSION IS YOUR MISSION

CHAPTER 15: THE DEVIL’S IN THE DETAIL

CHAPTER 16: AND LET THERE BE LIGHT

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

This book is dedicated to ALL the children the world over who have been abused mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

I share your pain. Your tears don’t fall in vain…

(Dr. Kevin Naicker)

CHILDREN SHOULD BE

SEEN AND HEARD,

NOT SEEN AND HURT

—Dr Kevin Naicker

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The thoughts pertaining to this book have been mulling in my mind for the past fifteen years. Yes, that long. I would probably not have written the book as I was so very engrossed in either studying medicine and/or martial arts. My wife, Roshilla, persuaded me to start the first chapter. As such, I am eternally grateful to her for her persuasive nature and generous support and for taking care of our son, Shaveer, almost single-handedly at times.

I have to thank every person who has affected my life in a good or not-so-good way and hence in helping shape my person and giving me the food for thought to write this book.

My heart goes out to all of the untold abuse victims who live life, every day, hoping that tomorrow brings a better life. I pray that you do not give up hope. And if you are a believer, then I hope that your God grants you peace and happiness and a safe way out of your misery. And if you are not a believer, then I hope that you endure the slow pace of evolution. I hope that one day mankind will be more civilised and respect everyone on an equal basis and not resort to the archaic way of resolving conflicts: that is, with violence.

Mum and Dad, thank you for all that you have done for me from day dot and for having the patience and faith in me when I needed you the most. Your continued support is priceless.

To Shaylin, it’s all good, mate.

To Hanumanji, thank you for your strength and guidance in the writing of this book. Jai Hanuman.

FOREWORD

This book is inspired by real-life events that I have personally witnessed or experiences I have lived through with others who have been affected. The book is a hybrid of fiction and non-fiction. There are elements of science fiction, science fact, science fantasy, martial arts, references to the military and also included are cultural ideologies and norms. As such, any character or name mentioned is entirely fictional and purely coincidental if it resembles any live, real person in any way or manner.

CHAPTER 1

THE QUINTESSENTIAL

I recall the day when I was told by my father that I must be the one who should look after my mother.

‘You have to be strong. I know that you are just a little child, but your mother has only you now. You must be strong and look after her. She will draw immense strength from you. You must stay with her no matter what happens. She is a very, very difficult person to stay with. She will be rash, erratic, and very violent, but you must endure this, as a favour to me, my son. You will get all of my blessings if you do.’

‘Ok, I will do what you ask of me, Dad.’

Although I was just a small child, I was one of those gifted and unique children, with a perfect memory of all events. Usually we all have what is known as infantile amnesia. Essentially, this is that our memory system chooses not to retain certain memories that we have as a child, for example, having our diapers changed. I think that Dad, being in the military, used the trick of repetition to get me to remember his exact words. It is, in a nut shell, brainwashing, for lack of a better word.

I guess that Dad was a true Machiavellian and that the end justified the means.

My dad was a strapping mountain of a man, with muscles on muscles and super sharp reflexes. He could kill with just his thoughts. Unfortunately, as I would learn later in life, whilst he was a perfect soldier, his team was less than what they were called: Elite.

Mum was a well-trained member of an elite anti-terror group. She was very well trained, and I can recall that she was always very athletic and competed in various martial arts tournaments throughout the world.

When the female competitors in her division and the open divisions were all defeated by her, she would often fight in the men’s groups and come out with sparkling victories.

She then took up tennis. I don’t know why or if this was just a covert operation. She would not say, nor did I dare ask. Somewhere along the way, the relationship between my mum and me became dysfunctional.

My Aunty Leena was a ‘safe’ outlet for Mum’s problems, although,

Mum was a very reserved and militant person. She would sometimes listen to Aunty Leena and sometimes not.

Gabi and Lola also lived with us for some periods and would often live elsewhere when on tour for their athletic sports. They were a source of comfort and help to me most of the time, and Aunty Leena was a another source of comfort and help, for the rest of the time. I was also ‘drawn’ into the martial arts world and the world of tennis. I probably started martial arts when I was in the womb as Mum participated in training whilst pregnant. Having a mind of her own, she would not listen to her doctors and went ahead and participated in competitions and training right into the late second trimester. She fought in full-contact events, where strikes to the face and head were allowed, and the use of elbows was permitted as well.

As Mum was very successful and made tons of money from tennis, we had a lot of fans and loads of luxuries. We flew first class on many flights. Alternatively, we would just hire a private jet to charter us from one destination to the next. We got to see celebrities and stars due to her influence. She had many suitors, but I was not allowed to know about this.

Aunty Leena was a ‘mad scientist’, an extremely highly qualified surgeon (neurosurgeon) and she also specialised in trauma medicine and plastic and reconstructive surgery.

With regards to myself, I went to school but was accelerated on several occasions to higher grades because I was very academically gifted.

I would be forced to miss school as I was into tennis and martial arts. This did not bother me because I was already guaranteed a place in the university whenever the school would release me. My interest lay in the ever-expanding universe and the dark matter and energy that held this universe together. I was to learn of the latter in a special twist of fate and would realise that dark matter existed in all levels of the universe and is sometimes right in front of you, and sometimes instead of looking out there into space for it, you should pack away the Dobsonian telescopes and use your naked eye and gut feelings.

I could have sat the school-exit examinations at any time. Mum did not want that, for now, as there were bigger issues at hand. Mum did not want me to grow up too quickly and feared the ‘Michael Jackson’ scenario as she prophesied that this is what would occur if I were rushed through academically.

Both Mum and Dad were astute students and both held bachelor degrees. Dad held a Bachelor of Science in Engineering, and Mum completed a Bachelor of Law and Commerce. She could not practise law as she had ‘assaulted’ one of the judges and was suspended from practising law indefinitely. Therefore, she joined the army.

CHAPTER 2

A METAMORPHOSIS OCCURS

The first episode that occurred was terrifying. We had just returned home, and Mum and I were, as usual, alone. We had come back from Aunty Leena’s home. I was eight years old at that time.

It was like any other day. We got home, and I changed into a pair of more comfortable track pants than the jeans I was wearing, and then got some water to drink.

Mum was sort of settling down. She had had a rough day at training and was busy arranging her flights to her next tennis tournament. I had spilled some water on the sofa. This was no big deal, but I did feel clumsy and I hated that feeling.

Neatness was a necessity at home and any untidiness was not tolerated. Everything had its place, and after being used, items were to be returned to their original place. That was not negotiable at all. There were no exceptions to this rule. Mum would always state, ‘I must be able to get to whatever I want blindfolded. Everything has a specific place on this earth, and this house is no exception.’

The spilling of the water, however innocuous it might have been, seemed to set Mum off. She came across to me. At this point, I will explain the layout of the house we lived in. It was a penthouse, in a skyscraper, eighty storeys high. There was a private lift that serviced only the penthouse. In front of the lift, there was a huge foyer, clad in marble and gold trimmings. The walls were clad with original eighteenth-century art. There was an abundance of security measures, including retinal and venous-pattern scanners. There was also a microchip inserted in a specific part of our bodies, which was picked up by the security system, enabling our front and emergency escape doors to open.

The door was solid oak with cedar trimmings and a beautiful elephant carving that was finished with a 3-D effect of the tusk coming out of the door. The entrance led to a large sunken lounge with a seventy-five-inch plasma screen mounted on the wall and a beige-brown cowhide lounge suite with motorised recliner capabilities. It had memory functions built into it. This was all to the right side. To the left, there was a raised deck with marble, and there was a huge dining area. There was an audio set-up, and this housed a compact-disc player and an interphase for iPods, iPads and the like. This was connected to an amplifier and to two Martin Logan electrostatic speakers. They were not hybrid speakers (subwoofer at the bottom and electrostatic panels at the top) but rather pure electrostatic panels. There was also a Velodyne eighteen-inch subwoofer connected to the audio system. This information is for the audiophiles that might be interested. Mum did not care for music as much as I did. I would listen to all types of music but, for some strange reason, always found myself gravitating towards Kenny G and his music style. The dining table was solid mahogany with a ball-and-claw footing. There was also a second lounge, or a listening lounge. Both the lounge and dining rooms led to a common passage.

The passage led to the kitchen, breakfast nook, butler’s kitchen, and second entrance and trash-collection area. The kitchen had all the state-of-the art Gaggenau appliances. Mum did bake and loved to cook, but this was fast becoming a rarity as tennis took over her life. On the occasions when she cooked or baked, I was allowed to assist. This meant more to me than the tasting and cleaning up. Further down the passage, there were three bedrooms, each one having a balcony with a view to die for. The bedrooms were filled with Italian handmade furniture and were super-automated with every modern-day gizmo to complete the picture. In my room, there was a desk and book cases included. I was also allowed to have a Sonos music-streaming device in my room. I loved to stream music and listened to this on all days, good and bad.

The outlook captured city, inland, and ocean views. Being eighty storeys up, you practically had a god’s view of the world below. I would venture to the balcony’s edge with caution as I feared heights. Of note, Mum’s roof was made of glass. Yes, that’s correct. There was massively thick glass that allowed her to see right through into the night sky. There was a retracting blind that was padded, and this, when closed, offered her quiet and darkness. I loved the days when there was a storm or soft, soaking rain as Mum and I would lie on the bed and watch, in 3-D, as the raindrops fell towards us.

Outside, there was an infinity pool, jacuzzi, sauna, and a helipad to complete the picture. It was truly stunning. We had no pets as we had no time to be with them, and Mum could not accommodate any additional distractions as she was super-saturated with tennis and martial arts and, of course, me.

Now that you know the house layout, you will understand where various incidents occurred. That brings me to the water spillage, and as stated, I had spilled some water on the sofa. I was going back to the kitchen to get a cloth to wipe up the mess that I had made, and the next thing I felt a huge blow to the back of my head. This catapulted me into the wall and off course. I was stunned and thought that I had just stumbled over something. The pain was instantaneous and felt as if my head had exploded. This was followed by shouting about my clumsiness and a further flurry of punches to my back and a kick to my right thigh. I fell to the ground and screamed in pain.

As she backed off, I was able to turn around and screamed, ‘What the hell did I do?’

This was answered with a full spinning-heel kick to my face. The pain went through the roof and so did my scream. I was shocked to say the least and went into defence mode. As I was skilled in martial arts, I naturally got up, although very stunned and dazed, and adopted a defensive stance. I was taught this defensive pose by my mum and also my sensei (senior martial arts teacher). Seconds later, I realised that this was a serious mistake and a very poor judgement call. Mum went into her ‘killer mode’. I had seen her do this many a time, in full contact battles and in real life-threatening situations. She let loose her fury, of course, on me. I saw and dodged the first kick but was stunned and dropped to the ground with a flurry of kicks and punches.

‘How dare you stand up to me, you ungrateful piece of nothing?’

She then turned and walked towards the door before returning with a brand new carbon fibre/titanium tennis racquet and literally beat the daylights out of me. I cannot recall the exact events as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

All I do remember was that I kept on screaming, ‘Mummy, please stop, you’re killing me, please…’

I guess I called out for Gabi, Lola, and Aunty Leena to help me. I could not see nor hear them. I recall Mum screaming and just striking me over and over again with no reprieve. It seemed that Mum had unloaded a massive amount of frustration on me.

I awoke a few days later, in a strange environment. I guess you could call it a hospital. My right arm was in a bandage, and my head hurt so much. There was nothing else that I could see that was wrong with me. I thought, and re-thought, that it was a bad dream, just a nightmare. I called out for Mum, and Aunty Leena came to my side. Boy, was I happy that someone I knew came to me.

‘What am I doing here? Was it all a dream? Where’s Mum, is she all right? Why is my arm in a bandage, who attacked me, is Mum OK?’ I pleaded to see my mum.

‘You are fine now, my child. Aunty Leena will look after you. Your mum was the worst she has ever been. She was totally and utterly shocked by the fact that she had lost all control and had savagely beaten you up. I suspect that your mum has a bad case of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and that something might have triggered an unexpected, sort of, reflex reaction. She will be fine. I have sent her for some tests and radio imaging, and the results will be reviewed in a few days’ time. You were very lucky that she called me and you were brought here in the nick of time. All’s good now anyway. Just rest. Mum will be here shortly, and I can’t see why you cannot go home. Take care, my child. Just call me if you notice any strange behaviour with Mum. You know that I have always loved your mum. After all, she is all I’ve got when it comes to family. She is my one and only sister. I’ve got to go but will come over and visit this weekend, at the latest.’

‘Can you come over, at least tonight, just in case… Please, Aunty Leena?’

‘Ok, my darling, I will try, but I will be on-call tonight at the Emergency Department as one of our registrars is off sick, and all the neurosurgery has been transferred over to my slate. But I will call you, ok? Love you.’

Aunty Leena did come over that night, but briefly. Mum was fine, and we had Thai red curry for dinner. It stung my mouth. I guess that the lacerations and the bare gums hurt a lot. I was glad that everything at home was peaceful, and that Mum was her usual self. Aunty Leena prepared some dessert, and it was Mum’s and my favourite—trifle with tiramisu. That night my belly ached more than any other part of my body.

I went to bed and was about to settle in when Mum buzzed me on my telephone extension. I was not really sure why but had no thought of not presenting myself to her bedroom. Mum had called me to cuddle up next to her. This was one of my favourite moments in life. I would snuggle up next to Mum. We would retract the blinds and feel as if we were the only humans on the entire planet. I relied on my gut feelings to analyse Mum’s feelings for me, and at that moment, they were so intense that Darth Vader’s lightsaber could not cut through. I held her so tight, more for reassurance that I was still her child and that she loved me, and that it was perhaps a misunderstanding