My Scars Are My Trophies

By Prince Douglas Maroku

The Journey In the Inner Self

In most cases, we do get discouraged by challenges we face along this journey of life, some get shut down completely in the face of adversity. In this book, we see how I got challenged and how I rose against the odds. I have lived a life of many lives, I fought my battle against domestic violence, depression, rape, I am more than a conqueror, He gave me the strength so He shall renew yours too, just believe and trust upon Him despite what life brings.
It doesn’t matter what you went through or what you are going through, God will never forsake you, arise and shine, be the best you want to be. Let your past be your past and live tomorrow. -Prince Douglas Maroku

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prince Douglas Maroku
• Release date: Nov 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370756483

Book preview

My Scars

Are My Trophies

The Journey In the Inner Self

Copyright © 2017 Prince Douglas Maroku

Published by Prince Douglas Maroku Publishing at Smashwords

First edition 2017

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 any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Prince Douglas Maroku

P O BOX 503968, Gaborone, Station. Botswana

Cell: [phone]

Email: [e-mail]

My Scars

Are My Trophies

The Journey In the Inner Self

PRINCE DOUGLAS MAROKU

FOREWORD

Douglas is truly a great young man who in his very short life span has confronted the challenges and vicissitudes of life head on and emerged victorious, unscathed and un-cowed by fear or favor of the crowd.

He has tremendous stamina and does not indulge in helpless self-pity when things go wrong. He takes the good and the bad in his stride and does not blame others or his creator for his failures or mishaps.

His work chronicles what he has gone through without bitterness. He is philosophical about life. A poem entitled The Village School Master by a British poet says And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, that such small head could carry all he knew. It is a wonder that such a short life span could carry all he has gone through and remain sane and focused on social responsibility.

According to Leo C. Roster, The purpose of life is to be useful, to be responsible, to be honorable and to be compassionate. It is, after all, to matter, to count, to stand for something, to have made a difference that you live at all.

Douglas, well done! You deserve to be supported and encouraged. My advice is in a verse in a congregational church hymn which says Some will love you, some will hate you, some will flatter, some will slight. Cease from man and look above you. Trust in God and do the right.

Dr. Gaositwe K. T Chiepe

Table of Contents

FOREWORD

THE UNRECOGNIZED LEGEND

THE QUINTESSENTIAL YOUNG MAN

CHILDHOOD BATTLES AND LIFE LESSONS

A RAY OF HOPE

LIFE OF UPS AND DOWNS

MOMENT OF DECEPTION

THE ROCKY PATH TO RECOVERY

MY BATTLE AGAINST THE SILENT KILLER – DEPRESSION

MY STRUGGLE FOR LOVE

THE NEW CHAPTER OF MY LIFE

CHANGE THE BROKEN DREAMS

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE MUST FALL#

BEACON OF HOPE

MY FAMILY MY PRIDE

REBIRTH – MY SCARS ARE MY TROPHIES

THE FALLEN PROTAGONISTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

THE UNRECOGNIZED LEGEND

This book brings an inspirational story of a man who turned his scars to stars, his breakdowns to breakthroughs. An unrecognized legend indeed!

Prince Douglas Maroku,was born on the 6thDecember 1984 as the second born child of Mr. and Mrs. Maroku of Tumasera village in the Central District, Botswana. He is from a family of 6 siblings, their first born being Thulaganyo Maroku, Godiraone Maroku, Leoketsa Maroku, Atasaone Maroku and Goemeone Maroku.

He grew up in Serowe, where his mother’s family comes from though she is originally from Umtata, South Africa thus making us Xhosa. Prince went to Khama Memorial, Mmutle Primary School in Sefhare village in Tswapong and was later transferred to Sefhare Primary School because of the distance he had to travel every day. He completed his primary level in 1999 though he could have completed it by 1998 but he couldn’t because of an ailment and being hospitalized.

He went on to do his junior secondary education at Sefhare Community Junior Secondary School in 2000 and later on got transferred to Radisele Junior Secondary School because his mother got posted there. There were lots of challenges at school but he kept pressing on until 2002 when he wrote his final exam.

Douglas got admitted at Moeng College in 2003 for his Cambridge completing the following year. He didn’t do well at Cambridge and that negatively impacted his future dreams because he had wanted to be a psychiatrist. It was painful to see his dreams going down the drain though it is still his wish to be a psychiatrist one day. After Cambridge, he spent almost 8 months in the year 2005 working as carpenter in a workshop in his home village where he specialized in wood designs. He loved it and thought it was fun since it was his first job.

In 2006, He was admitted at Kanye Brigade Development studying under City and Guilds – London where He sat for International Tourism combined with International Business Aspects. In 2007, he got a job at Skyways Travel in 2007 where he worked as a receptionist and records keeper until 2009. Douglas had an opportunity to go for billing and settlement planning course at Development Training Strategies at Bedfordview, Johannesburg, South Africa. He later joined Travel American Express as an administrator.

In 2011, he found greener pastures at Nationwide Travel working as a travel consultant. While at Nationwide, he managed to do Travel Agency Operation course and later on enrolled for International Fares and ticketing and many more courses. It didn’t last long when he resigned from Nationwide Travel to join Concorde Travel, a well-recognized agency well known for corporate business travelers. In 2015, he received an award of excellence 2014-2015 Smart point champion. Sometimes featuring on Television interviews. These indeed are the great achievements ever. Education is helping someone learn how to think, how to solve problems.  Most education would be transferable and you will climb the corporate ladder a lot faster. Remember the pillar of Botswana that talks about an Educated and Informed Nation, I believe in self-empowerment, Says Douglas.

Douglas’s heart is so much into the community, sometimes I wonder how he does it. He is involved in lot of community work. He is a Vice Chairman of Botswana Network for Mental Heal, he is a patron of Ngwapa Primary School. At last, he opened his Non-profit Organization, Breath Support Group, this deals with domestic violence issues and rape as we are aware he went through these. This is open for all you his readers, followers and family as he always refers to you. If you need help, feel free to contact them for counselling or advices. You can really see the passion he has.

Throughout these years, it hasn’t been easy, he went through many challenges, but he didn’t give up along the way. He says, "I fought for my own liberty, that’s why today I managed to put my story together from infancy to now. Reading through this book you will learn a lot.

Let’s hear the story from the beginning. By: Oaitse Phikane

THE QUINTESSENTIAL YOUNG MAN

Let me invite you to sit down and allow me to share with you the story of my life. It is my wish that by reading and absorbing the story, you will be positively motivated and inspired. I believe if we change the way we look at things and the world around us, we will change for the better. Nothing is impossible at all.

Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling? For what is to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun? And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb, and when the earth shall claim your limbs, then you shall truly dance. Expectations in life are as good as chasing the wind that keep changing direction without notification but it keeps blowing and blowing.

The same applies to dreams; you can picture yourself living in well-developed estate only to be disappointed when you woke up from the shack with nothing good about it. Only dream chaser could understand that dreaming doesn’t really mean that those things you dreamt about will be there instantly but you have to work hard to get them realized.

The 6th of December, 1984 marked the beginning of the life journey of myself, Douglas Kefilwe Maroku. Sadly, my biological father abandoned me at birth. My life has been full of ups and downs, but I have never given up on hope.

In most cases, fathers are always proud of siring sons but in my case my father decided otherwise. My mother, NtombiZonke, never gave up, she did all she could to protect me from life’s dangers and challenges. She was a mother and a father at the same time. With the little she was getting she managed to raise me and my elder brother Thulaganyo very well.

4th April, 1990, things turned out for the best for my mother. She met and married a man she described then as innocent, loving, kind and caring namely Mr. KwetseMaroku, and they had a beautiful baby girl, Godiraone together. Kewetse adopted both Thulaganyo and me. This meant that the Zilwas from Seroweand the Maroku’s from Tumasera got to be one family.

It was pleasant and everyone admired the couple and wished them luck. Peace, love and tranquility prevailed. It took only three years for things to start falling apart. The peace that once prevailed was short-lived and destroyed by some unknown forces.

THE BEGINNING OF THE ROCKY PATH

After years of working as a Court Clerk Administrator at Paje, my mother got transferred to Sefhare where we were welcomed by the community that was loving and caring. This is the same place where things fell apart leaving my poor mother in tears and torment as she was traumatized by the very man she fell in love with.

The man who was supposed to be a husband and a father to her children, my step-father started showing his true colors and turned my mother into a punching bag. All this was done in full view of the children. I was still young by then but I saw and witnessed it all. He spent most of the time out there, showed no interest in his family.

Whenever he got home my siblings and I had to hide. The Maroku extended family never seemed to care; everything to them was fine or most probably they considered it none of their business. I would often hear my mother crying out to God to intervene on her behalf.

As tough as things were, my mother never gave up; she swam in that pool of pain and abuse braving the possibility of storms ahead. With tears in her eyes, she would hold us tight and we would cry with her, our little minds not comprehending much what was going on in her heart. She lovingly assured us it would be well and that she would always be there for us.

We were exposed to things we were not supposed to see or experience especially at tender ages. I have to admit that all the things that I witnessed then disturbed psychologically. It came to a point where we wished Friday wouldn’t come. My stepfather would at times come in the middle of the night and wake me up shouting, ‘‘Why are you here, aren’t you supposed to be at the lands?’’.

I knew that would be followed by serious flogging. I would cry till I couldn’t cry any more. It got to a point where I submitted to the beatings and the kicking of a man who was supposed to protect and take care of me. To him I wasn’t supposed to be studying, I was meant to be a herd-boy.

I used to be tormented by splitting headaches, even when I complained I would be forced to go. I was told to stop being girlish and be a man. It was tough as sometimes I would fall along the way as we walked to the lands. My cousins would laugh at me and leave me there to struggle alone. My only hope would be on passers-by who would often come to my rescue.

In order to ensure that one of my cousins was saved from the harsh treatment I got, a story of him being asthmatic was made up. He wasn’t supposed to go near the kraal. He was a Maroku by blood and I wasn’t. The same cousin labeled cattle black and white, brown or grey, something which is regarded as stupidity in Setswana culture.

I on the other hand called them exactly as they are supposed to be called in Setswana the language I wasn’t fluent in. I was forced to work hard like a slave. I would only be relieved when school resumed. I hated that kind of life but got used to it. I had no choice but to live it.

I was in the school choir and at times I was bound to attend music competitions. I loved singing to an extent of making my younger sister and our neighbors to parade and sing; when they got off key I would give them the right key. It was a requirement that every member should be dressed smart and be presentable.

One day I went to my father and said, ‘‘Daddy we are going for music competitions but my shoes …’’ Before I could complete the sentence, he said, ‘’ Make them yourself." I walked away broken hearted and helpless.

We were not supposed to talk to anyone from the Zilwa family but I had to take a chance and talk to my uncle Reuben for shoes. He bought me the shoes and I became like other children in the choir. I was forbidden from visiting or talking to my mother’s side of the family. I wasn’t supposed to go to Serowe because according to my stepfather, they were witches. For him mother had no relatives.

Even with the intense and continuous beatings my father leveled against me, his family didn’t even bother to intervene. No matter how painful it was, in spite of all these, I kept respecting him and I kept doing my best at school. Though at times I would be absent-minded at school thinking of the beatings at home especially when Fridays approached.

One rainy day, my parents got involved in a car accident and the news hit me so hard. It felt like I was told my mother had passed away. She had just given birth to my younger brother Leo. My younger sister Godiraone was very young and my elder brother Thulaganyo was a tertiary student and didn’t stay home.

I spent sleepless nights babysitting Leo. My mother was ultimately discharged from hospital after a while. I had to take care of my mother to a point where I had to bathe her. My father was nowhere to be found and so was the rest of Maroku family save for my grandfather, Maroku. He usually travelled 60 km riding on a bicycle to check on us. He would bring us beans, maize and wild fruits.

Since we didn’t have enough food at home, except on days when my grandfather would bring us the little he did, at break time I would rush home and share my meal with my mother. I did her laundry and ensured she took her medication.

Instead of playing with other children, after study I rushed home to give my mother her needed massages, prepare supper and ensured my sister and brother were taken care of as well. It was only after giving my family the attention that they needed that I would do my school work. Things got back to normal after my mother became fit to help with other chores.

The recurring headaches that I usually experienced affected my eyesight. I was told that I had to have my eyes checked regularly and get proper medication. My doctor, Dr. Tselapedi, who now out of compassion had become close to me would buy me nice things, as she knew of my problems back home and would do anything for me. She was very kind.

At times I would faint along the road and get rescued by passers-by. I would wake up in a hospital bed or at home not knowing what had happened. I started reacting badly to heat and anything hot, be it bathing water or tea. At times I would bleed profusely that I would get dizzy and fall.

One day during the June 16 commemoration activities at Sefhare Community Junior Secondary School, I had one dreadful experience. The school hall was fully packed that one could hardly move. There was too much heat and I started feeling the discomfort. I tried to leave the hall but was stopped. I went back to where I was seated and my breathing deteriorated.

I had a terrible headache and slowly got wobbly. I told my teacher, who then escorted me outside. I held her by the shoulders and I blacked out. I woke up in Sefhare Primary Hospital and I was later told I didn’t respond to anything or move. I was also numb to pain. Despite being told about my condition and hospitalization, my father never bothered to come and check on me. After staying for a week in hospital, I was finally discharged. I started a series of hospital visits and examinations before I was declared fit to go back to school.

It was then that bitterness and anger started.

At times I would look at someone, say nothing and hit them so hard with a blow or just anything I could get hold of. I became more of a bully and defensive person. I tended to lose temper so easily, became so impatient and wanted everything to be done my way which is a weakness that followed me as I grew up.

At times parents would come with their kids to my home and that meant I was in for it. My mother would hit me so hard that I would feel so sorry for myself. I would cry, hate her and then love her because she was the only thing I considered important to me. She was disciplining me like any other child. At times I would wake up with a swollen body and she would be feeling bad. It was a dark season in deed such that at times I wished I was dead though I didn’t know the meaning of death. It was just a though that death could be a relief.

At school, there was this bully of a girl. She was huge and she would make us give here money every day and if one failed to do so, he or she wouldn’t get a meal at break time. One day I told myself I had enough with her. I didn’t bring money and we had a serious squabble. She made it clear that my meal was hers that day. After dishing I took my plate and went to the classroom and sat there. She came over and tried to take it from me and I held it tight. She hit me on the head, I stood up and took the food threw it on her face. The bully got burned; I ran to the staff room and reported the matter.

Given my innocent look they believed it was true she hit me, she was punished for that, since then we became friends. When questioned about this when I got back home, I told them I was defending myself. My mother looked at me intently and told me never to do it again. I told myself then that if someone did something good or bad to me, I would do likewise.

One day a police officer who used to work with my mother called me to his office and said "Douglas if you continue doing this I will arrest you and put you in that cell you hear me, come let me show you how it looks like’’. I followed him inside, it was dark with that malodorous aroma, and he pushed me inside and locked me inside for 10 minutes. Those 10 minutes was like 10 years to me, when he opened the door I went straight to his face with a blow and ran home. From that time I promised myself that I will never beat anyone again, but at times I would do and beg for forgiveness.

I reduced playing with lots of people so as to avoid being provoked by anyone. I spent much of my time at home if not at church. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t lose my temper, although I kept trying to manage it.

There was a night, a night that I will never forget, a night I saw my mother running like never before, a night with which I reflect back into, I see that God indeed is God and will never forsake His children. As usual, he came home around midnight as usual, greeted and went to the bedroom. I don’t know what might have caused the conflict, all I heard was my mother’s voice screaming and I knew what it meant.

If you could remember the picture of Peter Hectors in the movie Sarafina, that’s how we looked like that night, had to hold my younger sister while she was holding the younger brother. We had to run for our lives, the only place we considered was at Holiness Union Church that was under the leadership of Pastor Mmutle. Even though it was late, they open the doors for us and welcomed us; she told them what was going on and then prayed. We were there until in the morning.

We drove home, but instead of him apologizing, he threatened to go kill himself for some reason I still don’t know. The man was so dramatic. I don’t know if he ever thought of his siblings or it was all about him justifying that he is a man indeed. But to me real man is that one with an epitome of strength, valor, and courage, is the one who never lets his personal affairs to interfere with his family. A real man says I am sorry when he knows he did something wrong, even if he is not guilty but to make peace, not to make your wife and kids to fear you, that’s an old fashioned thing.

If as a father, as a husband you stand against your family, who do you expect to care for it? Is it not best to divorce if you can’t handle what you committed yourself into? Why make them suffer? Some things make sick when I reflect back into. But I am most thankful for my mother and for Pastor Mmutle’s family for having been there for us in those wretched moments. My mother fought for us, she was our shield, she never let go no matter how bad things were, no matter the assaults she went through.

What can be done to change a man?

01

CHILDHOOD BATTLES AND LIFE LESSONS

I learnt and experienced a lot during the times I spent at the lands. I had to learn the hard way. Sometimes some goats would go astray and we would tarry in the bush thinking they wouldn’t come back but all in vain. We would be forced to get home and explain why some are missing, after that we would be smacked.

We would be forced to go back into the bush to look for them, if not we would have to sleep on an empty stomach. The first thing in the morning we would have to wake up to go look for them. There was a time when we got lost along the way while trying to track them down. We trekked for long time in vain as we were lost.

I didn’t like drinking water from the ponds, but that time I saw myself putting my pride aside knelt down and drank that water like animals despite the tadpoles that were swimming in the water. We sat under a tree where I fell asleep unnoticed. During my sleep, it was like I was getting the directions out of that jungle in