By 
Although I was bullied years ago in high school, I have never forgotten the misery, trauma and lost good years I got as a result of this. Bullying is something that no child should face and schools need to implement measures to reduce incidents of bullying and deal effectively with those who engage in it.
In March, I had cause to visit my old school, Annandale Secondary School. While there I greeted a few familiar faces. One teacher acted like he knew me but I couldn’t remember him so I asked him whether he taught me. He said, ”Yes” and when I asked him what sort of student I was he said with a smirk on his face that I had psychiatric problems.
Now this man most likely taught me in the lower forms when I was 12 or 13 and he has worked as a teacher for decades but time hasn’t improved his mind. I said nothing but I wanted to ask him how he knew that I had psychiatric problems and whether he did anything to help me as my teacher. I cannot recall ever having any conversation with him or fond memories due to his teaching. He made no impact on my life yet dismissed me as having psychiatric problems and in our society due to stigma related to mental health, his remark was geared at belittling me.
My experience with bullying
In fact, I was bullied in secondary school for years, from age 12 to15, and not once did I receive any form of counselling even the informal kind from teachers. The school had no counsellors and I wasn’t referred to a welfare officer. The bullying affected me so much that I became physically ill and fainted several times while at school. The teachers would send for my parents to collect me then the next day I was back again in the same situation and neither parents nor teachers ever had a talk with me about it although they knew that I was being bullied. I believe that the fainting spells were a result of my body being under enormous stress and seeking an escape or attention from those I thought could have helped me.
How it started
It all started with me trying to avoid a beating when I was 12 because I left school one afternoon without permission to visit my friend (next door neighbour) at her school.
Then, there was little recreational activity. It was just straight from school to home to be under the gaze of my parents; gender norms and proper female behaviour were brandished as the excuses for this freakish control. Well, like any normal child I disobeyed from time to time.
My friend was attending a different secondary school two villages away from mine and she kept gushing about how nice it was. So, we decided that I was going to visit her there during my 1 hr lunch break. Unfortunately, due to waiting a long time for a bus I ended up arriving after her lunch hour was over and she was already in the classroom. Some prefects saw me and I was hustled to the Headmaster who informed my school of the situation via telephone.
The school’s administration told my mother and as soon as I arrived home I saw that some terrible punishment awaited me. She was angry – it wasn’t entirely due to my behaviour – and told me that she was going to tell my father. Well, that was my worst fear. My father was the disciplinarian. When he wasn’t whipping, his words were aimed at humiliating, degrading and inflicting mental trauma; to make matters worse he was getting drunk at a shop in the village and we all feared him in that state.
I was thinking up ways to escape the beating – which I felt was going to happen – and then remembered my friend’s cousin. The child had mistakenly drunk some kerosene. What stuck in my mind then was that everyone made a big fuss over him although he looked perfectly OK. I thought if I did the same my mother was going to feel sorry for me and not tell my father about my ill-fated adventure.
We had some kerosene in a bottle; I took a spoonful and sipped. I remember feeling an intense burning in my throat. After that one sip, I threw the rest away, went to the fence and told my friend’s grandmother what I’d done (my friend lived with her parents, sibling, aunt, uncle, cousins and grandmother in that house).
She told my mother and they both gave me raw eggs and milk to drink. Then I was taken to the public hospital and admitted for a few days. I didn’t see the point of that because literally no medical examination or procedure was done. I was taken to an adult ward although I was a 12-year-old child. In the mornings and evenings a few tablets swallowed and that was basically the medical intervention. During my stay I learnt that the ward housed tuberculosis and AIDS patients who were dying. They were a few beds away and one day a female doctor took me to see the AIDS patients wearing adult diapers and in the worst physical condition; just skin and bones.
I believe that Guyanese just don’t know how to talk to each other especially, the child-adult scenario. So, nobody asked me why I’d drunk kerosene. And the doctor just assumed that I was in a relationship with a boy which my parents did not approve of so I tried to commit suicide. I got this from some comments she made while with the AIDS patients. Although, I can’t remember her exact words it was basically about what sex can lead to and having boyfriends. Contrary to what this doctor thought I wasn’t even allowed to have male friends and even having female friends was frown upon.
At school
After my brief, uneventful stay at the hospital which did save me from a beating I faced a new horror much worse than being spanked; years of bullying in high school which spilled onto the streets and followed me to university.
I lived in a village where most people had no sort of interests/hobbies. The activities that entertained villagers were men beating their wives and children publicly; men beating men after getting drunk at the rumshops and village gossip. Not surprisingly, villagers including students from my school knew about the ‘Kerosene incident’. From the first post incident day at school, children started their assaults and they can be the most cruel to their peers. I was called ‘Kero’, ‘Stove’ etc, I really can’t remember all the names and although it no longer bothers me I was affected for many years, well into my 20s.
Apart from the name calling, ‘songs’ were made up and the children launched their attacks whenever they saw me even in the presence of teachers. Although, I was a good student academically and even ended up as the 3rd best graduating student, my high school experience was miserable and the bullying along with other problems hindered me from realizing my full academic potential.
After school
Some people are sadists, they enjoy making others miserable. While none of my tormentors wanted to know the ‘why’ they ensured that their friends were made aware of my situation and what names to call me. The craziness continued at the University of Guyana and on the street. I would be going to a class or walking on the road and out of the blue pops a ‘Kero’ or some other nonsense from the mouth of a random person.
Even adults taunted me. Lots of Guyanese do not know any better though so that was expected. Once I was involved in a survey project and one resident asked me in a mocking tone if my name was Kero. This older woman- about twice my age – was standing with her sons and instead of showing them adult maturity decided to humiliate me in the presence of colleagues.
Lack of communication
So I was bullied for years yet no one, including my parents never had a conversation with me about it. I have never met a Guyanese who can have normal conversations on sensitive topics without getting angry, lashing out or being judgemental. People just do not know how to communicate; my high school teachers were just the same and with the passage of time things remain the same. What better example than a teacher without any formal training in mental health issues and nearing retirement with decades of experience in teaching saying that I had psychiatric problems.
He exemplifies the way many educated and uneducated Guyanese view mental health issues and people who behave in ways perceived to be abnormal. There is always a ‘why’ behind an act but people prefer to make others miserable…and offer no assistance, not even a few comforting words. Due to insensitivity, lack of communication and mental health facilities when people do suffer breakdowns they are labelled, with ‘crazy’ topping the list.
Bullying has resulted in damaged and lost lives. I have read stories of children commiting suicide because of being bullied. In Guyana, we definitely have problems among children because of this issue but overall it is not being addressed. Bullying is not seen as something serious. While this post is about my experience I intend to write another post which deals with this topic from a broader perspective.
