I don’t be­lieve in God

The Star (Jamaica) - - FRONT PAGE -

Dear Pas­tor, I have seen in the news­pa­per where the Govern­ment is go­ing to build a school for or­phans.

Please tell the Govern­ment not to put the churches in charge of the girls.

I grew up in a girls’ home and it was very bad. The two women who were put in charge of us were two of the wickedest peo­ple that God has put on the earth.

I went there at age four and at age seven, I used to go to the pantry and work.

One of the women used to beat me while I was on the floor. The strap would catch me on any part of my body.

When­ever I got up and ran, she would call me back to beat me.

Th­ese women had no mercy. Oth­ers who lived at the home can back up my story.

I am liv­ing well in Canada, but I cry ev­ery day when I think about my other school friends.

Some are in prison and some are at Belle­vue, and oth­ers are walk­ing in the rain on the street, eat­ing from garbage bins.

I don’t be­lieve in God be­cause the Bi­ble says “

And he saw all that was hap­pen­ing to us, but he never killed them. He al­lowed us to grow up as fool­ish and fear­ful chil­dren and we could not stand up for our­selves.


They bul­lied us. They told us to go up to the dorm and kneel down at our bedsides from 5 p.m. to 2 a.m. and then we would go to bed.

The lady in charge put her clock to alarm at 3 a.m. and we had to get up and kneel again at the bed­side un­til 4 a.m. and then say prayers and go down to the gar­den. Af­ter­wards, the bell would ring and we would have break­fast and then go to school.

The only time we were able to talk to each other was when we were wa­ter­ing the gar­den. When the bell rang, we washed our feet and went back to kneel down at our bedsides with­out sup­per. That went on for two weeks.

As soon as we were 16, they pushed us through the gate, and men would come and take us and use us.

Pas­tor, I did not know that I would be griev­ing so long. I had to wash men’s clothes and be a slave to them.

Pas­tor, when I was 16, the lady in charge gave me to a lady. When I was ready to go to bed, the bed was good, the room was clean, but some­thing was miss­ing.

The girls I used to live with (over 54 of us) were on my mind. I missed them. All of a sud­den I was alone in this room.

One day, the lady saw me cry­ing and she asked me why. I told her that I wanted to go to my sis­ter.

She asked me if I knew where she lived and I told her that I had a let­ter that my sis­ter wrote; I showed her the let­ter.

She asked the man who brings her pro­vi­sions to take me to my sis­ter. He took me and handed me to my sis­ter. That man is the best man I have ever met in Ja­maica.

C.S. Dear C.S., I thank you for your let­ter and I want you to know that I do not doubt the ac­count you have given about your life in this home. You have called the names of in­di­vid­u­als who were in charge of the home, but please un­der­stand why I have deleted th­ese names.

I have done so be­cause many years have passed and the sit­u­a­tion in that school has changed.

In ad­di­tion to that, God has mar­vel­lously blessed you. And I know that God would bring those who have ill-treated you and the other girls into judge­ment. They will reap their re­ward.

I also know that the or­gan­i­sa­tion that runs that school is rep­utable and very help­ful. Th­ese women who were put in charge were cruel and in­hu­mane.

But I hope that you will learn to for­give them. I re­gret hear­ing that you do not be­lieve in God. That is a big mis­take you are mak­ing.

You should not blame God for the cruel treat­ment you have un­der­gone as a child. So, please don’t blame God for the things th­ese women have done to you. Pray for

them. My prayers are with you. Keep strong and feel free to write to me again. Pas­tor

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