Erla-Mari Diedericks - Sin, Sushi & Survival

Published by Zebra Press
an imprint of Random House Struik (Pty) Ltd
Company Reg. No. 1966/003153/07
80 McKenzie Street, Cape Town, 8001
PO Box 1144, Cape Town, 8000, South Africa

www.zebrapress.co.za

First published 2011

Publication Zebra Press 2011
Text Erla-Mari Diedericks 2011

Cover image Getty Images/Paul Burley Photography

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owners.

ISBN 978 1 77022 142 0 (print)
ISBN 978 1 77022 211 3 (ePub)
ISBN 978 1 77022 212 0 (PDF)

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To my son, who inspired me to leave, and to my partner, Vincent, who ensured that this book has a happy ending. This book is also dedicated to every woman out there who knows what abuse is like. I believe you, and I believe in you.

I would like to thank the following people, without whom this book would not have been possible:

Thank you to Richard, who helped me to escape my abusive marriage, and to Gretha, who provided her support and her apartment.

To Dr Miller, who told me to get out and get a divorce.

To Gary, who has always loved me and told me I could do whoever and whatever I want, including this book!

To my parents, who believed me when I told them.

To Zavick, who designed my first book cover and told me that I could and should write a book.

To Rudi, Mario, Alvin and Christopher you know why.

To Denzil, who told me that I should write about my dating experiences, and to Gawie, who kept me going with advice and laughter.

To all my Facebook friends who read my blog and urged me to go on.

To my publishers, Zebra Press of Random House Struik, who recognised the potential of this book, and to my editor, Beth, who saw through all the bullshit and the spelling mistakes.

To Riana, my dear friend who is no longer with us. You will always be in my heart. I am so sorry that you are not here to read this book.

And, lastly, to my partner, Vincent, my son and my stepdaughter the three loves in my life. Vincent, thank you for reading the whole book chapter by chapter and calling me every day to nag me to keep on writing. You are my inspiration.

StepGirl, you had to read about this on the internet. Sorry about that. Thanks for your support and for your love. Love you right back.

My son, I would not have left if it wasnt for you. I hope you forgive me. I will always love you.

Ever since I can remember, I have dreamt about writing a book. I would dream about the book signings, the interviews, being known as a writer of note. About writing something so special and beautiful that it was going to make the world sit up and take notice. I wanted to write a book that would cause tears of joy and tears of sadness, a book that would change peoples lives.

The problem was that I had no idea what to write about. The story just wouldnt come. For years, the frustration built up. Where was my story? Be careful what you wish for: I had no idea during those years of mounting writers frustration that I was busy living the story that would become my book.

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, once said that there are books you want to write and then there are books you need to write. Sin, Sushi & Survival is the book that I needed to write. I paid for this book with my own blood, sweat and tears and I dont mean the writing of it; I mean the living of it.

Who would have thought I would one day write a book about being physically and emotionally abused by the man I loved? That my great achievement would be to share with the world some of my darkest, but also my best, moments? Who would have thought anyone would care?

While the living of this book almost killed me and I mean this quite literally: the day I finally decided to leave, my ex-husbands finger marks were imprinted around my neck the writing of it also drained me at times. Reliving those dark, desperate moments wasnt easy, but I knew that I had to do it, because, somewhere out there, there is someone who is currently immersed in a similar darkness and cant see their way out.

Of course, in the book there is the good stuff as well. I survive. I fall in love. I am still alive. And when someone going through a divorce or heartbreak or an abusive relationship reads this, they will, I hope, see themselves reflected in both my pain and my joy, and this will give them hope or at least put a smile on their face.

I once went to see a fortune teller. She told me that I would lead an interesting life. After years of abuse, I started to think that her prophecy was a curse. Now I think it is a great thing: not only has it made me stronger, but it has given me something to write about!

A memoir is a recollection of memories. It is also the perfect place to sift through those memories, collect your thoughts and come to a conclusion. I have recalled conversations and situations as Ive remembered them they are not reproduced here verbatim. What you see in this book is my voice and my personal recollections of events.

For the purposes of narrative flow I have compressed timelines and created composites of minor people in the book. I have also changed all names and occupations to protect the innocent as well as the not-so-innocent.

What I have not changed and never can are the instances of abuse, the court appearances, the evidence supplied for my protection order, the criminal charges, the medical evidence and the absolute fear and loathing that I felt and sometimes still do.

ERLA-MARI DIEDERICKS

OCTOBER 2010

I apply for a protection order on Valentines Day. That morning, my husband had locked my son in the cold, musty bathroom.

Let him out, you fuck!

Behind the door my sons screams are reaching fever pitch. He is scared. So am I.

Your son needs to be punished, my husband snarls.

You cant lock him in there you know hes scared of confined spaces. Open that door, you stupid arsehole!

He steps towards me.

Oh, Jesus. No. No. No.

But he doesnt hit me.

Instead, his hands encircle my neck. God, please dont let him kill me. My son, dear God. My son will hear it all.

I could break your neck right now, he breathes. It would be so very, very easy. Just. One. Little. Twist

Please, God. Please, please, please, please

You are such a fucking bitch.

I stand very still. I dont breathe. Behind the door my son screams and screams and screams. My husbands hands tighten around my neck.