So they'd beaten me from the waist down with truncheons of rubber hose filled with sand. I hadn't been able to walk or even stand, but I'd been able t... read what they told me to as I sat on a chair. My face had not been marked then, not once, nor had my arms or shoulders. Any part of me that would be seen by my friends and family was clean and soft and unbruised. It shamed me.The second time I'd been more ready and I protested silently, staring into the camera as if my eyes would tell the. After I had consumed my food, he said, “You stink, boy, we need to get yer cleaned up.”“Sorry, sir,” was all I could offer in reply.“Not yer fault. But in this house, we bathe once a week. On Sundays,” he proclaimed.“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” I replied.“What’s yer name?” he inquired.“Maurice, sir,” I answered.“No 'sirs' here, buddy, name’s Mac. My surname’s McDonald, but everyone just calls me Mac,” he explained.“Should I call you Mr. McDonald, sir?” I questioned.“Nah… Mac will do,” he. More

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