Confessions of a Broken Man

By Stallon Anderson

Where do I begin to tell this fiasco of a journey that once was my life? How do I sum up 38 years living on a tiny island that was well known for drug trafficking, rape, incest, and political corruption? And what might be the consequences of unravelling secrets that, until now, noone dare reveal? Today I share my story, the story of a man who has gone through tumultuous times, living the role of both Victim and Perpetrator. What I describe here is not to hurt anyone or to gain sympathy. It is my way to healing, and a call to inspire others who may need it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546231158

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Life

I    cannot remember what it was like being taken out of my mother’s womb. At that critical time of entering the world, I would not have had the mental capabilities or knowledge to even give taught. After all, I was just a baby coming into a world of uncertainty. The little knowledge that I know about my birth was told to me by my mother and sister. My mother told me that her nine-month pregnancy of carrying me was not easy. It was an extremely rough time in her life, especially dealing with a husband who was mentally and physically abusive to her before and after her pregnancy. My mother was not supposed to live when she went through with her pregnancy with me. She told me of how the Doctors advocated to her that she was risking her life by having another baby. She told me that she told those Doctors she did not care what they believe. She told me that in her spirit, she was bringing to the world someone special. I truly loved my mother. She was prepared to die to keep me, despite even my father’s eagerness to follow the doctor’s advisement to abort me. Nevertheless, my mother went through giving birth to me. Later on in life I realized that a part of my mothers decline in her health may have also been her unwillingness to abort me but that is for another chapter in the book.

On December 7th of 1978 on a little Island called New Providence, I entered a world I did not know, but my ticket to the real world was punched. My sister who I will call Angie was happy but a little disappointed that I was not a girl. I guess that is why when I was a little boy I ended up with all the latest Jerry Curls going on in the 80s. After my mother had given birth to me, I almost lost my mother due to error. My mother told me the story of what had caused this ordeal. She told me that during the C-Section procedure which was the method that was used to bring me in the world, a surgical scalpel was accidentally left in her abdomen. She got very sick a few days after the paternal procedure. The doctors realized that something was wrong and after they then realized after taking x-rays that a surgical tool was left in her stomach they then took quick action. My mother had surgery to remove the surgical tool but if they had not removed the surgical tool that the Doctor’s accidentally forgot, she would have surely died. During this time while my mother was in the hospital, my sister who was just a teenager became my surrogate mother. My sister Angie made the ultimate sacrifice. She missed almost a half of her last term in the 11th grade just to take care of me. This was a significant situation, which I will explain later on in the book. A few weeks went by and my mother was out of the hospital and fully recovered from her ailments but reality hits you when you return to unhappiness. Oh, what a life I was immersed in and a journey of life events I would soon experience.

My mother’s name was Naomi Anderson. She was born on the island of Andros to a single mother who then gave her away to a friend to raise. That decision came with countless abuses from her foster mother who did not allow her to enjoy her childhood. I did not know my mothers foster mother as I was not even in existence when she died, but my mother had a rough childhood. At a young age of 13, my mother met my father. My mother while just a teenager got pregnant for my father. She told me her foster mother was angry and forced her to marry my father so that my mother did not bring shame to the family. See in those days it was frown upon to get pregnant without being married first. My mother told me that on the day of the wedding her mother falsified her age on the marriage certificate as well as beat my mother because my mother did not want to marry my father. I could only imagine the horror my mother went through on her wedding day and the once promising life she could have patterned for herself, was taking away by someone’s evil decision.

It was the 1960s and my mother’s first-born child was a baby boy I will call him Tom. My mother would then have a second child 2 years after, a baby girl by the name of Angie and a third child, a baby boy by the name of Napoleon. The significance of my brother Napoleon is that, we both have names of Powerful leaders. I will not reveal his real name as to protect his identity.

In the 1960s, my mother was only thirteen years old at the time and married. Being just a child herself, she had to grow up fast before her time, especially after having three children so young. At that young age, my mother endured a lot of pain especially from my father who continuously beat and verbally abused her throughout her short life. Many times my mother had to flee from my father with her little babies, which was heartbreaking to for me. She told me of terrifying stories of the things my father did and put her through. Many of my mother’s family would turn her away when she just needed them to help her get away from the abuses of my father. They would simply just send her back with her children to a hell she called home. She grew up in a tough environment in a reality that the world can be a cold and cruel place.

My mother had only a sixth grade education. She was limited in what she could do on a job. To help take care of her children, my mother went around the neighborhood, and washed and cloths for people. She told me of the many indignities, she went through on the jobs she worked, but she did it to feed her children. She would tell me that when the work was finished she would only receive bread and milk but she accepted so that she could feed her babies. I would ask my mother Where was Daddy? My mother would say, My father was drinking and having a good time. She recalled many times walking the streets with my three siblings at the time looking for my father just to get him to come home and help with the children. She would sometimes wish her mother was around to help but my grandmother was a party girl too.

My mother had no one who she could depend on at that time of her life but that changed when she met Mrs. Smith. My mother told me that she met Mrs. Smith when my father had beaten her while she was pregnant with my brother Napoleon. She said that Mrs. Smith had asked the neighbors Who was that man that beat that woman so badly? The neighbors told her that was her husband Michael. Mrs. Smith met my mother at the house beaten and bloodied. She said to my mother Why you let that man beat you like that? My mother would reply, Michael is too big and too strong to try fight. Mrs. Smith waited for my Father to come home. Now to describe Mrs. Smith she was a very tiny woman but she had a big heart. When my father came home, Mrs. Smith stood up to him and gave him a piece of her mind. My father got angry but he left the house but this would not be the last beating he would impose on my mother. From that day on Mrs. Smith became like a surrogate mother to my mother and a friendship was created.

Daddy

At four years old, I was now able to remember events in my life on my own. During this age, I knew nothing of the atrocities perpetrated by my father on my mother. I looked at my father as my earthly God. He was my hero. I saw no wrong in him. I remembered being so excited when my mother would say Boy ya Pa comin for ya (Bahamian Slang). My father was not living home at the time so when he came for me he took me to a place where he stayed. Anytime my mother would get me ready for my father to pick me up, she would say to me Look here when you go to that woman house you don’t eat her food. I would ask Why? My mother would say to me She wicked and I don’t want her fix you like how she fix ya daddy. In Bahamian slang fix meant something like witchcraft or sorcery. I didn’t understand what my mother meant when she said it because I was so young but when I got older I understood. I would tell my mother I would not eat the wicked woman food but I ate it and it was good.

When my father would come to get me, it felt like Christmas day. I was a spoiled child back then. I was my father’s little prince. He would always pick me up and say My lil Boom. I would smile as my father showed me affection. As we went on our way to where my father lived, he would tell me go and play with the children. I played with these children for many years and got to know them. When I got hungry after playing so much, I would go looking for my father through the house. When I found him, he would normally be laying in bed with the woman he was living with, holding and kissing her and showing her affection. There was a time in my life I once taught this woman was my stepmother but I found out she and my father were never married. This was the first of many situations that I witnessed of my father’s infidelities that eventually became my issue in my adult life. I did not know much about my father’s life. The little information I got about my father came from my mother and his first cousin Abby.

My father was born in Nassau. During this Era, world war two was still going on and life was difficult in the country. The Bahamas was still under British rule. Work was scarce in the Bahamas at this time so many Bahamian men needed to find work elsewhere to support their families. There was a developer in Florida by the name of Wallace Groves that needed labor to help develop parts of Florida. The Bahamian men became the ideal laborer for this task in Florida, which was called back in those days (The Contract). These Bahamian men would leave their families in the Bahamas Islands to go Florida to work and make a living.

During this time when my father’s father worked in Florida on the Contract, my fathers aunt Merlyn his father’s sister helped raise them while he worked overseas. My father did not talk about his father at any point in my life. What I learnt about my grandfather I learnt from my cousin Abby. My cousin Abby told me that my grandfather died in Florida by falling off the back of a pickup truck. My father grew up without a father and so therefore, there were not much of any male figures in his life to guide him. It was always just him and his brother’s. My father was baptized and raised in the Catholic Faith. He would also attend St. Mary’s Catholic school during his child hood years.

When my father grew up as an adult, he was labeled a ladies man. My father was not a man that believed in celibacy. I would witness this type of behavior from him at a early age when he would go to other women houses who I perceived when I was just a child to be his friends but later on when I got older I found out that they also were his lovers. He was also a smooth talker so women liked him for his charm. I think I got my charm skill’s from my father as well. I would use it in my arsenal to get women in my adult years. One example of father’s charm on the females was when my father met my mother and got her pregnant and had another woman who was also his girlfriend and she was pregnant too. He had promised both of them that he would marry them. During this time neither women knew of each other nor did neither know how close the births would be being my oldest brother is just two months older than my half-sister. My father was also arrogant as he would name my half-sister after my mother. By giving my sister my mothers name he showed that he had no remorse in what he did to my mother. My father worked in many different job fields but could never stay on any job for a long period of time. I started to realize that my father did not like to be dictated to by anyone. I realized in my adult life that I was following the same pattern as my father when it came to staying on jobs but that is for a later time in the book. I believed that he got bored of them quickly. He was not a man you could control. My father lived his life the way he saw fit. No apologies and no regrets.

My father and I spent a lot of time together when I was a little boy. Sometimes it would be church and other times just a casual drive to one of his hangouts. I remembered going to the fishing docks to hang with him and his friends. This is where I got my first taste of alcohol. When he would turn his back and talk to his friends, I would sneak sips of it. I really did not like the taste at the time but as a young teenager, alcohol became a staple in my life.

I remembered many times also driving my father nuts. My father many times would leave the car running while we were at the fish docks to talk to his friend. I was always a curious child so when he went to talk to his friends. I started to shift the car in drive. One of my father’s friend’s saw the car rolling towards the edge of the dock, and it was just a few feet away from going into the sea. My father jumped through the window of the car, and was able to shift the car back in park just before the front car tires started to roll over the edge of the dock. My father was very upset with me. He said to me If I wanted my mother to kill him. When my father took me home, he would tell my mother what I had done and I was punished by my mother.

School

My most memorable memories of school started at the kindergarten level. I hated preschool but not because I did not want to learn, but because I ended up spending less time with my father. I would be so upset when I arrived to school, that I got into little fights with the kids. Two in particular were twin brothers. Their names were Mick and Rick. From I was as a child, I was always fascinated about their body structure. The two of them looked like they were in the gym training and pumping iron. They had rock hard muscles, and they were bigger than me. One day one of the twins took something from me, and I yanked it back. He hit me and I hit him back. We began to fight, but I did tell you they were twins, and so if you fought one be prepared to fight two. Well I was not prepared at all for the carnage that I received. All I could remember was their fist ponding my face. They were super strong but that is all I will say about that incident.

I was a very fast learner in school. I learned how to read and write before I was 4 years old. My only issue was, I liked skipping school when I got the chance to be with my father. When my mother would have my father take me to school, it use to be the perfect opportunity not to go. While my father drove me to school, I would go down and hide behind his car seat. I did this so that I would not be in view of my father seeing me, but he wasn’t easily fooled. Many times he would intentionally not take me to school, but instead we would spend time together. It was so much fun spending time with my father, but eventually he had to stop. The preschool started reporting my lengthy absence to my mother. She was not to please with my father having me miss school. I was also punished for not going to school, but my father would tell her, Woman leave my child alone. My father was not a big disciplinarian and he did not like for us to be spanked. My mother despite her limited education tried to make us understand that education was very important in life.

I was very happy when I graduated and left pre-school and started primary school. I felt like I was going to be there forever and never get out. My first day at primary school, I saw so many kids and teachers like I never saw before. I had a few kids who came along with me from the preschool even those twins. I was so happy to be in primary school. I was able to interact more with students and teachers. I remembered when we entered our first grade classes for the first time. We had two teachers stationed in our classroom. One of the teachers I nicknamed in my head Miss Grouch like the sesame street character Oscar the grouch. She always had a don’t bother me look but she was a very gifted teacher. My other teacher was the complete opposite she was so sweet and kind but they both aided me in my learning process.

One of the things I hated in school was role call. This would be what the teachers did every morning before class could begin. My teacher looked at me and said Stallon Anderson. My other teacher would laugh and say to me Boy who name you after that communist? Well at that time I did not know who Stallon Anderson was other than being my first and middle name and I definitely did not know what a communists meant. I answered and said present. My teacher said to me Do you realize you carry a very powerful leader name. I didn’t realize that until I was much older whose name I carried and why my father always said he choose those names because he wanted his sons to bow to no man. As I mentioned in the book earlier my brother also carries a powerful name and its not Napoleon in fact he has a Russian name.

Primary school was beginning to be a blast. It also was a place that I started liking girls. I remembered my first crush in primary school. Her name was Zaria. She was so pretty, but she and I go way back from the diaper years. My father’s lover was Zaria’s Aunty. Every morning when Zaria would come to school she would run to me and kiss me on the cheek. I liked Zaria very much but as a child, I hated getting kissed on my face even from my mother. When Zaria kissed me, I waited for her to go in the classroom and then I would wipe my face off. I remembered, a few years ago I saw Zaria walking on down town Bay Street in Nassau. Zaria had become such a beautiful woman. I stopped her and said hello. She smiled and she gave me a kiss on the cheek and said to me That one for old time sake. I laughed but I did not wipe her lipstick of my face until the next morning.

During lunch break, my best friend and I would play together in the schoolyard. Most of time when we started to play he always had a karate move to show me that he had watched from a movie at home. He believed he was a ninja back then when we were kids. We spent a lot of time together as kids from preschool all the way to graduating High School. He was a nice kid. I remembered many times the both of us sharing lunch and snacks as children. We were inseparable. Today this gentleman that I still regard as a best friend is now an immigration officer and deacon in his church. He will always be my best friend.

I remembered when I was introduced to music in school. The only music I knew before that was just R&B music that my sister Angie would jam in the car when she took me riding with her. My music teacher was very strict but she was a master of her craft. This would be the only time in my years of school that I loved music class. I remembered when my music teacher wanted to start a choir. I never taught of myself as a singer but I joined and gave it a try. After a few practices I was asked to become lead singer. I was shocked but I did have a soft voice for singing back then until puberty came and stole it. My music teacher was a perfectionist as we continuously had to practice even during breaks as well as after school. I remembered as a choir how we took part in music competitions as well as performed for Government Dignitaries. It was fun being in the choir especially when it came down to competition. I took being our school choir lead singer very seriously. I would go home and practice my song versus even singing in the tub as I took a bath or shower. I always wanted to be the best in what I did in anything.

On the day of competition we felt unbeatable but in reality some one has to come second. I hated when that happened to us as a choir. I really hated losing. I would get so upset but my music teacher would always encourage me by saying, Stallon, you are only a child you did your best and I’m proud of you. Hearing my teacher say that was comforting but years of always being second would change my outlook on life as an adult.

I also participated in the performing arts as well as Junkanoo. My art teacher who I knew from a baby, grew up with my older siblings so I always had someone who had my back in school. This also meant I had to behave myself. Miss. Andrews was not a teacher you wanted to disrespect. Miss Andrews was the first person to introduce me to the world of Junkanoo. I did not know what junkanoo was back then but as years went on I had an appreciation for the culture. I remembered when our school participated in junkanoo events, in fact it was the very first junior junkanoo parade that show cased just school children participating in the Junkanoo arts. I was so excited just to participate in Junior Junkanoo. I remembered when Miss. Andrews asked me if I would be lead performer for our first junior junkanoo. I was so excited but I did not know what a lead performer was supposed to do. Miss. Andrews explained that a lead performer was the first one or two people out of each group to perform and we would be the first to be judged on our performance. My friend Mona was also given the honor of being chosen as a lead performer.

We practiced very hard during and after school for the junior junkanoo competition. My Art teacher even got some junkanoo veterans to teach us about the art of junkanoo and how to perform. They showed us how to make our costumes and how to woo the junkanoo spectators in our favor. They told us that we needed to have vigor and spunk if we wanted to win. I was not the best at making my junkanoo costume but by the time of the big event it was ready and ready for the challenge.

It was the night of junior junkanoo. We all were really nervous as this was our very first competition in junkanoo. The area that they held the junior junkanoo parade was on the outside pathway to the Queen Elizabeth sports center. This area was packed with so many junior junkanoo participants from every grade level of schools as well as junkanoo spectators. Everyone was out here to participate and claim that illustrious prize to be called the best junior junkanoo school of the year.

All schools were placed in the category level in which they were competing against. We were placed and numbered against the other primary schools. The Performances, costumes and music from every school participating was beautiful but I felt tonight was our night and we were going to win. I remembered when we came out of the gate’s blazing, dancing and shaking our little bodies to the music. The crowd was cheering us on as we came down the pathway dancing to the drum beat. We really perform our hearts out but we came second or third in our category. I was upset. I really taught we won because we worked and practiced so hard. I remembered my art teacher telling us after the parade that We were all winners. I participated in Junior Junkanoo one more year after the very first parade and was given the honor of being lead performer for a second consecutive year.

Time same to be moving like a blaze of light. I was now entering the sixth grade. It was such a shock to see the changes that had occurred in just a few short years. My body had totally changed even my voice had deepened. This was difficult for me to accept at the time because it just happened so suddenly. I was being constantly teased about my weight by the students especially the girls in my sixth grade class. They would say mean things to me like Fatty, Fatty two by four you cant fit through the bathroom door. Sometimes they would say Oh you so big no girl will like you. I started absorbing all that had been said to me and it started to work on my psyche. I started to retaliate against the girls in my class room.

I always felt that they were picking on me and telling fibs to get me into trouble. There was this one particular girl who I liked but hated at the same time. I taught Karen was the finest girl on earth. She was so beautiful but her beauty could not hide her snobbish ways. Karen acted as if she was better than everybody in the school but I still liked her. I remembered we all were in class talking and laughing out loud and Karen who was our head girl in the school told us in her snobbish voice that we needed to be quiet. When she made that remark I said to her Who are you to tell us be quiet. Karen rolled her eyes. She was pissed. I knew that I that I had gotten underneath her skin, and I continued to aggravate her. I said to Karen Why don’t you be quiet, always acting like you better than everybody. Karen then replied in her snarky voice I know I’m better than you. She was so pretty even when she made me mad, and I melted like butter inside when I saw her. The class laughed as if they were applauding her for saying what she said to me. I got angry, and we started hurling insults at one another and suddenly I punched her in the eye. The class went quiet for just a few seconds. Karen looked at me in shock. Her eyes began to swell as she began to tear up. Suddenly Karen launched at me swinging punches with accurate precision. I was taken aback by her swift attack. I did not