Who is Adrian?​

Adrian is a boisterous character who enjoys controlling the conversation. He is normally the one that likes to walk in the front, sharing his expertise freely with whoever wants to listen. He says he has travelled all over the world, but specifically likes the cold Russian climate. This most enjoyable travel experience was an epic snowmobile journey in the Ural Mountains.

Some causes of scars can be locked up, but the pain stays forever

By Ronewa Gift Ramulongo

The normally boisterous Adrian seemed somewhat subdued as he started to relate his story. He did not even rise from where he was sitting on a rock, a metre or so away from the others.

“My scar? Mm, let’s see … There were lots of scars, some were small scratches while others were more serious injuries. I did rock climbing, scuba diving, worked as a chef in a five-star restaurant called King Diners, climbed Mount Everest, shook hands with the president for my bravery and, of late, I am spending my free time doing duty as a guide on snowmobile expeditions in the Ural Mountains. That’s about it. I’ve already told you about many of my adventures,” he said.

Adrian lifted his arms, which showed the signs of many narrow escapes on cliffs and through dense bushes. “I am done. See? Who is next?”
“That can’t be your story,” said Takalani, to Adrian’s dismay.

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning a confused look.

“We would like to know about the you before your current achievements,” said Takalani.

Adrian understood very well but was clearly not keen to talk about his earlier life. He sighed heavily and said, “Fine, then. Where to start … I was raised by my mother, who was a hairdresser and worked from home. She was born in South Africa, but met a Russian man and moved to this foreign country. She was a beautiful lady and one of the kindest people you could find.”

Adrian talked about his childhood days in Russia and where he attended school in a quiet neighbourhood on the outskirts of Moscow. Emma interrupted him, asking why he had not mentioned his father.

“Oh, that…” Adrian almost sounded like he had never considered having had a father. “You must be referring to my sperm donor. The man who lived with us from when I was born until I was 17 years old was not my father,” he said, looking serious for the first time about what he was saying and grabbing everyone’s attention.

“We were technically a family of three: my sperm donor, my mom and myself,” he continued. “On the outside, we appeared like the perfect family, but behind those walls things were different. My father was a soldier, but he was also very, very abusive man when he was at home. He would make us eat dinner on the floor, and my mom sometimes even had to sleep on the floor when he was disgusted with her. Only he was allowed to speak during conversations unless he allowed you to.”

Adrian paused for a few seconds, but then continued. “My mom would tell me to just keep quiet, and she suffered in silence.” He looked down for a moment, then balled his fists.

Adrian explained how his father would punish them with a sjambok-like whip, and often beat his mother with his fists until she agreed with whatever he said. His father would say to him “I just wanna make Mommy flexible”, or “your mommy has been a bad girl and I must teach her manners, don’t you agree?” to which Adrian would agree out of fear of what his father might do to him too.

A deathly silence hung over the area and not even the African red-eyed bulbuls, chirping away in the bushes a few minutes before, dared make a sound, it seemed. Adrian appeared to be zoning out at this point of his story, until Emma asked quietly, “Were things always like that?” to which Adrian replied bluntly, “No.”

“The strangling, the beating, the threatening, screaming and manipulation ended on the day I was supposed to celebrate my sixteenth birthday,” he said.

“‘Daddy’, like my mom used to call him, wanted to get me a gun for my birthday, but neither my mom nor I liked the idea.” Adrian exhaled. “My mom knew I wanted a snowboard ever since I saw one on TV when I was only four years old. Watching people snowboarding and snowmobiling was always fascinating to me; it was amazing that a person could slide on frozen water and do all those stunts. So, my mom secretly bought me a cool snowboard and gave it to me after everyone had left. Only…”

Adrian stared even more intently into the bushes behind the group. “My sperm donor found out, and all hell broke loose.”

He took a deep breath, as if he were about to vomit the words out. “The man beat the sanity out of my mom that night – with the new snowboard, and made me watch.” Adrian described how his father tortured his mother, told her that she made him look weak to the other men at work by the way she dressed. He told Adrian that it was his fault that his mother was soaked in blood and that she should have had an abortion. All this while he continued to beat Adrian’s screaming mother.

“For the first time I shouted at my dad to stop. ‘Stop killing Mommy!’ I screamed. He turned to face me and I shouted that I still wanted my mom alive and that it was my mother, not his, and that he should ‘just leave!!’”

Pale and shaking from the memory, Adrian paused for a long time before continuing. “My dad just stood there, as if he never realised this before, and suddenly he turned to look at my mom. She lay very still. At first I thought it was because she was afraid to move, but then I realised she was dead.” Tears were streaming down Adrian’s face. Lisa stood up quietly and sat down next to Adrian, putting her arm around him to comfort him.

Adrian looked at the faces of the group members, determined to finish his story. “All of my anger poured out, and I tackled my dad to the ground. I took the same snowboard and beat him until I thought he was dead. Then I phoned the police,” he said, giving a great gulp. “When they arrived, they understood what had happened. The sperm donor was not dead. He was eventually sentenced to life imprisonment, and the state took care of my schooling, although I lived with an aunt of mine.”

As if suddenly determined to be done with the horrible events, Adrian glossed over the years after high school and the many countries he had visited. “After everything that happened in my childhood, I found myself drawn to snowmobiling and snowboarding, so I visited the Ural Mountains in Russia to experience the stingingly cold snow on my face. It was wonderful,” he said. Because of his mother’s connection with South Africa, he tried to visit the country at least once a year.

“I realise that I may appear to be boisterous, but the fact is that I often talk incessantly to fill the empty voids. Silence makes me uncomfortable because of what happened in my past. I suppose we all try to hide our scars one way or another,” he said, now looking decidedly uncomfortable and embarrassed. He gently took away Lisa’s hand and got up to get himself some water, quite clearly not intending to say another word.