Monday, 15 August 2011

Beating an Angel.

A casual greeting at the entrance to an elegant home, an invite to grace the couches presence, the ambience is relaxed. The nanny nestles the toddler on her lap, braiding her long blonde angelic hair, she watches the brightly coloured animals dancing across the television screen. The care giver chatting to her ‘friend’, and then without warning chaos erupts like the Icelandic volcano. The home invader whose smile and friendliness was only a mask to gain access into the house forces himself forward off the couch, lunging at the unsuspecting nanny and child. He brutally attacks the nanny, punching her in the face, with the jolt the baby hits the floor. The caregiver flops back into the sofa, blood rushing from her bloating nose and eye, she is dazed and confused. She tries to focus and all she can see is a figure moving, dancing on the defenseless toddler. The cries and shrieks of the baby raining through the house, cries for help, the intruder beats on the child, kicking , hitting and damaging the powerless angel. Satisfied, he walks back to the nanny, wails on her for abit. Ties her up, has a last kick at the now unconscious baby. And begins to rummage through the house.

Hearing a knock at the door, he invites his friends for a quick free sale of stealing. They walk past the nanny who is crying, and they politely step over the toddler, giggling. The home invaders who are alien to the house examine every inch of where the valuables could be stored or hidden. Pulling out draws, throwing the objects they don’t suffice as being worthy enough for them to take. Breaking glasses like the bones of the child who is battling to breathe on the soft green carpet. Laptops, money in the draws and the television they were all watching earlier is unplugged and carried out by the intruder’s friends. They have completed their mission of hatred and crime. They bid farewell to their ‘friend’ who remains shocked and disfigured on the one seater couch. They aren’t without manners you know.

Now alone in the house, she tries to untie herself but is unsuccessful. She watches the lifeless body at her feet drift in and out of consciousness, she sheds more tears, this is her fault, she invited in the assault. Trust is earned not based on a casual hello. A little while later she hears the door unlock, fearing it is the criminals coming to do further damage she lets out a boisterous scream for help. It’s the little girls mother, she runs into the lounge to find destruction, blood and a dwindling soul. Frantic she phones the ambulance, the police and her husband. She is mortified and distraught at the situation, she helps the beaten caregiver, and holds her baby who is bleeding and blue, but thankfully still breathing and fighting for life. She is rushed to the hospital, the nanny accompanies.

In intensive care the life force of a courageous fighter continues to grasp at her yet unlived life that has been dented by criminals. A few days on, the nanny admits defeat and reveals the truth. They never broke in, they were invited in. A toddler is fighting for life due to someone else’s negligence. It is time for South Africa to stop these death dealers, bolt them into a dirty, cold cell and leave them to rot. That’s the easy way out, they should be beaten until they cry and bleed, they should be dealt what they give out, pain. This little fragile angel was defenseless and powerless, and they still wailed on with the full force of a thousand suns. Now she lies in a sterile bed instead of playing with toys and smiling. They have now influenced the whole course of her life, she will never be the same. And neither should these humans, and I use the term ‘humans’ loosely, as they are not worth the oxygen provided by the earth. Now suspects have been arrested, who turns out are foreigners from one of our neighbouring countries, did they only come to South Africa to commit horrendous acts of violence? The law must back hand them with a sentence worth the suffering of bloody battle of war. Let’s hope and pray this baby lives and gets better. It is time for us too take the land back, take the criminals by their dirty paws, and string them up like cattle, and impose sentences that are worth their devious and demented crimes. They must suffer the full force of the law, and then some. No mercy, no easy way out. The only place they are going is best described as the ‘hard house’, for many reasons…

 The question, do we need the death penalty? Or is that not humane, well neither is beating a toddler.

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