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Crystal's Diary is one woman's collection of thoughts and memories from her childhood, adolescent years and adult life. This is no fairy-tale, and what you will read will shock you; child prostitution, physical and verbal abuse, witchcraft and murder are contained within these pages. At its core, this raw and emotional diary is a tale of healing and spiritual restoration. Crystal; one of her many names, grows up with her abusive guardian Antonia on the streets of Brazil. Moved around between different boarding houses, shacks and favelas, Crystal learns the language of sex at all too young an age. Growing up as a prostitute regularly subjected to violence, Crystal manages to change her path in life, after meeting an American man, who forces her to confront the reality of her past.
Crystal's Diary is one woman's collection of thoughts and memories from her childhood, adolescent years and adult life. This is no fairy-tale, and what you will read will shock you; child prostitution, physical and verbal abuse, witchcraft and murder are contained within these pages. At its core, this raw and emotional diary is a tale of healing and spiritual restoration. Crystal; one of her many names, grows up with her abusive guardian Antonia on the streets of Brazil. Moved around between different boarding houses, shacks and favelas, Crystal learns the language of sex at all too young an age. Growing up as a prostitute regularly subjected to violence, Crystal manages to change her path in life, after meeting an American man, who forces her to confront the reality of her past.
Crystal's Diary is one woman's collection of thoughts and memories from her childhood, adolescent years and adult life. This is no fairy-tale, and what you will read will shock you; child prostitution, physical and verbal abuse, witchcraft and murder are contained within these pages. At its core, this raw and emotional diary is a tale of healing and spiritual restoration. Crystal; one of her many names, grows up with her abusive guardian Antonia on the streets of Brazil. Moved around between different boarding houses, shacks and favelas, Crystal learns the language of sex at all too young an age. Growing up as a prostitute regularly subjected to violence, Crystal manages to change her path in life, after meeting an American man, who forces her to confront the reality of her past.
The author was simply another lost child without an
authentic family, name or age. Today she feels
compassion for others, wants to help others transition from lack to abundance. She is sensitive, inspired, understanding and objective. She found comfort and healing in writing and lives to write.
To God my Creator
To the family I created
To all existing things in the Universe
Crystal Long Ago
C R Y S T A L S D I A R Y
Copyright Crystal Long Ago
The right of Crystal Long Ago to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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 permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 84963 780 0
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2014) Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB
Printed and bound in Great Britain
Acknowledgments
To GOD for giving me one more opportunity. DJ for his contribution and being with me during that walk. PJ in Memoriam 03/30/2013. TDL for concern and orientation. Editors Austin Macauley for believing this work could make a difference.
Affirmation of World Elevation
The Vibrational Energy of the planet increases and absorbs the Positive Energies.
World Peace Proclaims its Independence and the negative bonds are broken
That is the beginning of a new path, a new level that engulfs the world.
We become One and are faithful in this process.
Each decision and modification is fortified with the beat of our hearts
That are united creating a single sound that echoes in the Cosmic Space
Breaking barriers, achieving Universal Victory
We are conquerors
Progressing daily in the Physical, Cosmic and Spiritual Evolution Of the World.
Introduction
Let me tell you a story. It is probably different than any story you have ever heard or read but it is a true story. It is my story. I want to share it with you because it exposes a horrible truth that needs to be told. A truth beyond the limits of human comprehension that you may not even believe. Sometimes you may find it horrible, inhumane, so repugnant you may have a hard time keeping your eyes on the page. Even so I suggest you do because as you read this book and confront its reality you will be embarking on a path to make the world a better place. My reason to expose this truth is because of the horrible abuse that occurs to children that needs to stop. And to make this stop, we must start somewhere. I learned in a very hard way how to make a new start, we must first confront what happened to us. That which was very hidden beneath our very own eyes and hearts. We must confront the truth. This means confronting nauseating behaviour, psychos, people so atrocious that it is hard to believe anybody would be capable of doing such horrible things. But they do and nothing will change if we, me, you and society continue to deny what is happening beneath our very nose every day. As you will see, this book is not perfectly created in Hollywood for a movie. Hollywood would not make up a story like this one. This is real to the very smallest of details. It is an accounting of what I was in its entirety. This is the base darkest part of life that you never imagined could actually exist. But it does exist. Bad influences, sick, so sinister it makes a person tremble. And amazingly some people openly accept these negative influences with open arms. They need to stop. Do not imagine for one minute that the experiences I will be describing for you are rare, rare, rare. Do not assume that, do not think that, they are not rare. It happens today, this very
minute, thousands of times right in front of your face. You need to know. You need to help.
This is the story of my life.
Chapter I
The Past is Present
Peter arrived from the United States and we stayed in the apartment. There were many things and business to take care of as I was getting the children to school. We needed fresh air. To go for a ride nearby or to the park seemed like a better option, unless it was too hot. After walking down a few streets I suggested we sit on a bench and appreciate the view, relax and cool down with a drink. Peter returned with our soft drinks and noticed my eyes fixated on three raggedy children that were begging for food. It is very sad, a shame to see such young children like these in the street, I said. There is nothing you can do about that Crystal. Staring at them will encourage them to ask for money. He responded. I could hardly imagine what kinds of things had happened in the life of those children. Barely 7 or 8 years old, their small bodies badly covered with rags they attached somehow. Their deep brown baggy eyes filled with hunger as their small hands were desperately digging in trash cans looking for something to eat. I could not stop staring. The pain beat at the same rhythm as my heart and at that moment it accelerated, as long as I stared. Nobody that walked by even noticed those children, people with their heads low worried and preoccupied with their own lives, nobody even cared in the least about what those children faced in their lives. But me...
The Beginning that Never Had a Beginning
My mind went back to 1978. I was 4 years old. I did not know this house. My head was confused. My brain without any memories as if I had slept one thousand years. My eyes could barely focus. An unknown woman came near looking at me attentively. Where was I and who was this woman? She was a total stranger to me but she spoke as though she knew me. Her voice was sweet and she smiled as though she cared. You woke up, you slept too much... come have a snack! she said. She stretched out her hand to help me. She wanted to make me feel comfortable so that I could trust her. My feet felt weak and I could not walk. Gently she guided me to eat at the table and offered me a cup of milk and a piece of cake. My stomach was hungry but my head did not yet realize it. I still felt as though I was floating in the clouds somehow. She sat next to me as she sewed some clothes. I would say that she noticed my every movement. I could hear a radio in the background. I asked her who it was on the radio. It is Jacinto Figueira Junior, the man with the white shoe, she said. A tense and scary song; the voice of Jacinto sang in such a bloodcurdling way that a strong fear engulfed me. Suddenly I felt fearful and threatened. I wanted to scream but I contained myself. After a few bites of food I felt sleepy once again. Even without having any idea where I was or who that strange woman was, I simply wanted to sleep. I slept for some time, an hour or two more, when I awoke I sat up on the bed and stayed silent, still totally empty, without thoughts. The woman came near and said: Lets go to the yard, I will call the neighbours daughter to come play with you! I got up and went out in the yard. A girl with curly hair came up to the gate and we began to play with coins; heads or
tails and I swallowed one. The woman looked in my mouth and said I should not worry because when I went to the bathroom, the coin would come out, it would not be necessary to operate and cut my belly to get it out. I calmed down and later on I went to the bathroom but we could not find the coin and we did not worry about it anymore. After a while a woman arrived and began to play with the girl hugging and kissing her. Who is that woman? I asked the girl. She is my mother, she said. Mother? What is a mother? I asked. They laughed at me and began to explain that everybody in the world has a mother and that we are born from our mothers belly. My eyes were fixated on those people as they explained the meaning of mother to me. My head was trying to assimilate and understand what was happening there, while I thought: Mother!!! Mother hugs and kisses with emotion, that sounds so good!!! That girl who was of my same age knew what a mother was and had a mother, I wondered why for me it was different. Something wrong was happening, what was missing? What is missing? What is missing? What is this place? What is happening? The hours went by while I tried to remember information, remember something in my lost mind, when I suddenly surprised everybody with a question that echoed out of my throat. Where is my mother? I desperately asked. At that moment Antonia came down the stairs and said: I am here, your mother has arrived. Not believing her I asked: You are my mother? The woman of the house got worried and asked: Is she not your mother? I answered: I dont know, I dont know... I started to look at Antonia trying to find something familiar, some memory, something to give me some type of guarantee with respect to my real situation. I was confused.
Everything prior to that moment did not exist in my life. All of my memories were gone, I could not remember my family and did not know who Antonia was, I met her at that moment for the very first time and knew nothing else. My distress persisted. Antonia told the woman that it was normal for me to wake up that way while she started to move farther away from me along with the woman, she must have told her I was not normal or maybe even crazy, anything to not alarm her with respect to what was really happening. The woman got my things, Antonia then gave her some money and took me, I remember going up some stairs until reaching the street and once on the sidewalk she gave me some candy with something to put me to sleep and knock me out, drugging me again. She kept me that way for some time, until I lost all possibility of remembering my origins and could only see her and remember her the few times I would open my eyes. I slept for an undetermined amount of time, a deep sleep. I awoke inside a bus and Antonia was there and I instantly went back to sleep. Sometimes a short look out the window to look at the scenery and my empty head did not question where I was going. Other times I awoke in a train and she was there, she gave me a cup of water and a small portion of food. I asked for help to go to the bathroom, many times she would carry me to the bathroom and I went back to sleep.
Mother forgive me
My dearest mother Forgive me for that day In which I was still inside Of your Uterus I stretched out Too much... I bothered you... I heard you complain But I needed to stretch Mother, it was such a good feeling I had, I was so happy Inside your belly Protected by your feelings Tender... Motherly warmth The temperature was perfect Warm water and a yellow light That illuminated me and covered me In your Uterus Mother, I never wanted to be born! Never to be separated from you! (That is my inter-uterine memory) But where is my mother now? And who is my mother?
My memory went back to those three children in the street, hungry in search for food, with a look of suffering that so many exploited people have. I was wondering if they even knew their real names or had birth certificates. I then remembered another fact from 1979.
Undocumented and Oppressed
Antonia changed my name on each new trip we made. She called me Suzana, Leila, Pamela, those were the most common
names she used and sometimes she called herself Carmem. Suzana was the name she called me most often and my favorite, I was so used to that name that when she informed me my name would be Crystal (forever) we had a discussion about it and I kept asking why I could not keep the name Suzana, which I adored. But I was not successful in that discussion. There are more pieces of my memory coming back, for example: Antonia attempted suicide. It was like this... We lived for some time in a small room where I remained locked up and played with Avon deodorant sticks and imagined them as people, separated them by colour, the men were the ugly and dark containers and the women and girls were the prettier ones. The game theme was rape, sexual abuse, violence and death. I spent the entire day doing this and for me it was my whole life, I gave myself completely to this game to the point that my breathing changed and almost stopped breathing, and would not even notice the few times Antonia was present. One day she arrived and saw me in that situation, I was agitated and speaking to myself as though it was a real story. Let me go, let me go, you are hurting me, I am going to die! I said to my deodorants. Antonia got very upset, stole my deodorants and screamed at me and I did not understand why she was being such a jack ass. #@#%$# ! I was always locked up; alone, eating trashy, junk food and the arrogant owner of the world would not allow me to play with my own imagination! After a few days she showed up with a Barbie doll and gave it to me as a present trying to pacify things but I did not know how to play with dolls and destroyed it that very day, cut her clothes and hair, transforming the doll into a monster. Now the doll was ready for me. Now to the suicide attempt, Antonia arrived one morning all crazy, she was irritated, screaming and crying uncontrollably. What happened? I asked. My life is worth nothing, I am unhappy, it is all a huge mess! she said.
I kept watching without understanding the reason for her revolt. Antonia got a knife and said, I am going to kill myself, I am going to slice my wrists! I will end my life right now! No mother! For the love of God do not leave me! Who will take care of me?! I screamed afflicted, as tears rolled down my cheeks. Antonia stopped and looked at me for some time as if she were thinking something with regards to me, some plan, I really did not understand. She got a cup of water from the faucet and made some cool aid for me and then added some white powder that she poured from a napkin she got from her purse to drug me. She gave it to me saying we were going to sleep. I drank it while looking at her and thought that since she was my mother it did not matter what she had done or what would happen because I trusted her. I never awoke in that place again. I woke up on another trip on a train one day; I really dont know when it was. Antonia was a disastrous person without qualifications for anything, not even to educate me or even feed me. She was filled with fantasies about making offerings to witchcraft and false gods, she wanted to be a witch and have magical powers, she wanted to get financial satisfaction through that but it never happened. Another quick fact was a short trip through the Mooca neighbourhood in the City of Sao Paulo where we went to visit Veronica, her black prostitute friend who was overweight and used Hene Maru to uncurl her hair, she must have been around thirty years old at the time. Veronica lived in a small room on top of some apartments. Imagine this, the two would begin to drink beer and talk about their voodoo and witchcraft (interesting), if you analyse the word macumba in Portuguese you can arrive at a conclusion of its significance, ma = low energy, cum (com) = with, ba = something stupid. Basically it can be understood as trying to use low energy to manipulate, steal and gain advantage. Veronica convinced Antonia to take some used bloody feminine napkins to a nearby garage, simply go four blocks
down the street in order to arrive at Judas residence and call to Judas three times, leave the bloody feminine napkins and after this ritual we would be very rich, so she decided to do that. When we arrived, it appeared to be an abandoned commercial building with a huge pile of bloody feminine napkins that reached the ceiling. I think all the women from Mooca left their menstruated feminine napkins there. I ended up being the one that called Judas and left Antonias bloody feminine napkins as she waited by the door because she was too scared to do it herself. While going inside, I heard a noise and quickly left the feminine napkin on the floor and we went back to Veronicas house. There are more stupid things that happened but they happened in other places. One time we visited a City just so that Antonia could buy wigs from a blond woman who was around forty-five years old who made and sold wigs from her house. Antonia chose three wigs, one with long hair, one with medium hair and one with short blond hair. With regard to the short blond wig, the woman told Antonia it was not fitting for her because she was too dark to wear the blond wig. Antonia insisted and purchased that wig that was not appropriate for her even though it was more expensive, she paid the woman and we left. I never understood why she had to always wear a wig and asked her several times why she did that when she already had hair on her head, she would limit her responses by saying it was the fashion. We returned to the train station, I felt good that day, I was awake and inside of me an expectation of the future flowed in me. I could for the first time see that prostitutes ridiculous behaviour. As you can see, I am relating some events of my childhood, I would like to give you more details and show a sequence of events such as City names, a month or day of the week but at that time I was too small to ask about City names, places or even people. What I have done is to relate everything I was able to remember.
What I am trying to do in sharing my life is for you to understand that bad things do happen and we make many mistakes, yet we need to take the bad and make something good with it rather than simply try to hide and forget. Allow me to take a few minutes of your time; I would like to share with you everything including how I feel because I cannot keep the cancer inside of me that has caused pain for thirty-two years. I need to speak, Please Listen to me!
Real People
I will briefly relate who the people are that you will hear me talk about frequently, the people that had a big impact in my life. Antonia: a woman that called herself my mother, she got a birth certificate for me, you could say she created me, you will understand how I was raised and educated. She was a prostitute, a drunk, a drug addict, would drug her customers and steal from them using what is called Good Night Cinderella, a thief, kidnapper, child sexual exploiter, pimp, practiced satanic rituals and believed in false gods; basically a witch. Her family is spread out, without structure, they ignore her. From what I know she came from a poor family. She said she had a handicapped brother with whom she saw ghosts inside the house and in the yard where they lived in Sao Paulo, SP. She would say she lived in constant warfare with an evil spirit that wanted to possess her body so that she could spread evil throughout the world. In my opinion she was crazy and nobody in her family realized it or did anything about it. She said her mother died of cancer of the blood and that her father was taken to an old folks home after he sold his house and spent all the money on prostitutes. She said she was a single mother and that is why she was thrown out of the house, in fact she would always let something slip out about all the problems and debts she had. She would say she received numerous death threats from my
supposed father because he was a married man and a politician, that he deceived her and took her virginity, that is what I heard; basically contradictory and confused stories. Peter: My husband, the man that showed me love. Because of that love I was able to free myself from the prison of denial and suffering in which I remained for many years, that majestic love allowed me to really and truthfully taste for the very first time the breath of life! Peter is an American citizen, he had studied genetics, was a politician, today he repairs buildings and restores historic properties. He is always in contact with his Dad, his mother died and was a missionary, his brothers live in nearby cities and show up from time to time, discussions and disagreements occur between them as with all families. Crystal: I am a regular person and my story is like many. My childhood was stolen and my family ties were broken and lost somewhere. My youth was wasted and my adult life was tumultuous. Yet in my maturity I found balance, I live with the truth and am building a respectable and peaceful future. In spite of my memories maybe someday I will be able to say that my life was worthwhile.
Infant Sincerity
It was now 1980, I was six years old. I remember a poor neighbourhood where we lived for some time, it looked like a ghetto, the house was very simple, red tile roof, poorly made whitewashed walls. It had one room with a sink and a bathroom outside, a cheap fabric curtain with a pattern of blue flowers on a red background that divided the space to simulate a bedroom and a kitchen. We had a bed in the room and cardboard boxes that made up our clothes cabinet. The living room / kitchen had an old brown couch that was ripped, a wood table with three chairs and an old gas stove. Our kitchen cabinet was under the sink separated with wood planks where we put the few pans, dishes and cups that in their former life were tomato jars, which we now used to drink water from the sink. Our cabinet was covered with an old blue rag that looked like a clothes line held up with nails on each side. All utensils were on top of the wood shelf and in the shelf underneath there was a plastic container with rice, one with noodles, one with salt, one with cooking oil and a small one with coffee and a rag used as a coffee filter because Antonia was addicted to coffee. Sometimes we ate Maggi noodle soup in order to add variety to our menu. One day, Antonia and her friend Veronica informed me that it was my birthday and made me a cake, they told me I was now six years old. I wore my navy blue dress with white dots that had a red design on its front; I think it was some kind of navy type clothing. They took a photo and I had a huge smile, I was missing my front teeth. The few people showed up for my birthday were only there to eat free cake and left. Antonia and Veronica sat and drank beer in the chairs they placed near the kitchen door. My only present was a plastic yellow duck with red wheels which I would squeeze myself into with most of my body hanging out. I went down the dirt road in the duck as fast as I could go and a car that was passing by had to slam on the
brakes in order to avoid running over me. I went up and down that road several times but somebody told Antonia that a car almost ran over me and the fun I was having came to a screeching halt. I slept that night like a normal child, a house, birthday cake, a bed and I was not doped. The next day we received a visit from a neighbour who Antonia was always criticizing behind her back. The neighbour seemed like a nice person, she showed up and promptly started washing the dishes in the sink. Antonia, who was already drunk started talking to her and telling her she liked her. Upon hearing this I walked up and told the woman the truth, that Antonia was lying to her, did not like her and spoke badly about her. She stopped washing dishes and argued with Antonia and called her a hypocrite, Antonia tried to convince her I was the liar but the woman did not believe her saying children do not lie and left. Antonia hit me and threatened me, telling me to never again stop her from lying to people.
All of those memories happened during and after leaving that park. As I was thinking about my past, those children at the park were going around looking in trash cans looking for food. I kept wondering how their lives would be different if they had the opportunity to go to school and study, live in a stable environment without the need to hunt for leftovers to survive. My mind continued, fixated on thinking about those three homeless children, more so on the little girl, for her everything must be worse, just as it was for me.
Taken to Hell
My mind returned to 1979 to re-live one more devastating fact. It was still day light, Antonia smiled at me and said that she had a great idea. Antonia said she was going to get a house for us and nobody would throw us out. She got our things and we left the extremely small room with mildewed walls where we lived.
Where are we going? Where will our new house be? I asked enthusiastically. You will see, she responded smiling. We walked a lot; I was so tired of walking that I asked her to carry me many times but she refused. After some time we arrived at the final destination. To my own despair, she had built a shack from yellow plastic and pieces of wood; she found all the material for that construction in the trash. That was the house she spoke about. Our new residence was on the sidewalk on the side of a Catholic Church, next to a very busy street that crossed a small side street. The stop lights were to my right when I put my back to our plastic front door, which was also protected with cardboard that came from a large box. Antonia was never creative and had no concept about construction or design. You can well imagine the mess. Are we going to live in the street? I asked fearfully. It is like camping, it will be fun, she responded trying to calm me down. My affliction continued as I had a feeling of danger and I had no control of the situation, I did not even know what life was, I only felt fear of something terrible or of being abandoned, feelings I did not understand or know how to deal with. Even though I was only a child my heart let me know that I was in danger, the idea kept entering my mind that it was necessary to have a real house; safety and tranquillity, but they were only thoughts and my mistake was to deny reality. It is there that I stayed with Antonia and at nightfall I fell asleep quickly. I awoke the next day feeling very different, started feeling that change little by little. In that first day I was in a daze looking at the cars and people go by. Antonia then instructed me to ask anybody walking by for money and I did. I walked to the nearby streets full of people buying and selling. The places that sold food and the newspaper stands did not allow me around them because I was bothering their customers when asking for money. Some people gave and others did not even bother looking at me.