Nothing about her secondary school days amused her. It was a subject she was unapologetic-ally stingy about. As cunning as I was with words, I felt like a child left to starve in front of a healthy fridge. My persuasions meant nothing even as an entitled friend. But today was different, no one expected it. If tears were blood, even the hard heart-ed gasped to survive. Becky’s tale was so vivid that one was made to re-live the experience.
Earlier today, we attended a program – voice the abuse – which turned into a ‘subtle’ cat and dog fight in respect to civility. It started after an elderly man had proposed ways in which women could save themselves from sexual assault. Out of all he said, a young lady, skimpily dressed, found one unworthy.
“Sir, with all due respect, how a woman chooses to dress should not warrant any form of abuse. Since you’ve just told us that men are visual being, I think the real issue here should be how to teach our men to control themselves. Thank you”
The issue raised by this young lady suddenly gave voice to the few that attended the program. Their contributions were either coined from religious sentiments or feminist affiliations and then Becky stood up
“I was about leaving for school that morning when my father brought out all his shirt for me to wash. I begged that I wash it after school since it took 30mins to trek to school and I needed to be in school by 6:45am else I got into trouble. Why he chose to let out his frustration on me that morning, I had no idea but mom could do nothing about it. When I was done, I had only 15mins to get to school. If I followed the major road, it meant I had to run the whole way to school and still be late, then I decided the shorter route was better. The only problem was that it was winter, the mornings were dark and only few students walked to school. While I was running, I felt someone grab my Jersey and held my throat. I could not scream and I had no idea how I got to floor but I remember wrestling with him… I faintly woke up in the arms of a man. Everything was blurry but I saw he wore a police uniform. The cold breeze felt like needle then I knew I was naked. We drove for a while and stopped. He pushed me out of his car and cuffed my hands. It was a bushy place, I had no strength to talk or fight. I watched him unzip and forced wide my legs… I woke in a hospital bed. If I had any drop of dignity at that point, the faces of those around me stole it. Sir, I was well clothed when I left the house but that wasn’t the case at the end of the day…”
As she narrated, I understood better why she usually referred to herself as a complicated mess and why she was so stingy about her past. Well, all I say is that, when you stir her mess, you somehow get gold.
“However, I do agree that we must not present ourselves less than we’re worth”
Thanks for reading, speak out, don’t die in silence
© God’sgrace MisG