This World Belongs To Me As Well
I am Aphra, a twenty-five-year-old nurse and I live in the island of Mauritius. My story begins one night when my identity as that of a woman who advocates for feminism took birth. It happened when my breath froze up and my body shivered to such an extent that I nearly felt my heart beats speed up ten thousand times. Sweat dripped from my forehead and I nervously bit my lower lip in an attempt to hide my unease. It was ten o’clock at night and I was all alone in the tram heading home after my shift at the hospital ended and the man sitting next to me was staring at me with one hand inside his pants. Tears swelled up in my eyes and I felt like I had lost some sort of invisible battle that all women wage with life. This realisation struck me as furiously as rogue waves crash against sturdy reefs. I heard myself saying over and over again to myself that I could report him to the driver or to the officer posted at my town’s station. I further reminded myself that we are living in a world aided by technology and I could record him to live shame him on social media. I knew I could emerge as a goddess, victorious after having vanquished my enemy but I was frozen. My arms refused to move, my eyelids refused to close and to open again. My mind refused to work. I felt vanquished, denigrated, diminished, just because I am a woman seated alone in the late-night hour on board a tram. The man blew me a loud kiss and enjoyed the sunken look on my face as he could see that other than enduring him silently, I would not be of any harm. I felt the statue in me turn evil as the rage took over. I managed to gulp, turn my face towards him and gave him a most angry look. He responded with a smile and by wetting his lips with his tongue, all which made my stomach churn.
“I am powerful,” I told myself. “I can win this battle and end this situation here.”
The frozen ice which had enveloped my whole body melted into a dazzling oasis as I smiled at him while subtly removing my mobile phone from my bag and got into live mode on social media. I started streaming as to how a dangerous man was threatening me on board the tram.
“Hello friends,” I said to those watching the livestream. “As you can see, this man is being despicable to me on board the tram. I am all alone and I will soon reach Rose Hill. Look where his hand is…”
I continued talking while the man’s face registered the shock of what was happening; the wheels had turned! We reached the Rose Hill station and he awkwardly stood up to move outside while a young couple got in. I seized the opportunity to save myself once more. My dignity as a woman flared up as I said to them:
“Beware of this man, I have him live on social media. He has been making obscene gestures at me.”
The young man’s face creased with anger while the one trying to sexually and psychologically attack me ran out, never to be seen again, hopefully. I resumed my trip and soon reached my home safe and sound. The relief that flew over me as I tried to sleep later on that night cannot be described.
I am just one ‘Aphra’ who had been able to save herself. Unlike me there had been so many others who ended up raped and murdered in gruesome ways, by other perpetrators. I am just another woman trying to keep myself safe on Earth, and like me there are so many Julies, Anishas, Lauras, Sadias. We all are living in an era which is doing its best to promote our rights and while following these, we try to keep ourselves protected. We are called feminists just because we dare say no when we don’t agree, when we take decisions pertaining to our lives, to our bodies, to our education and to our families and we manage our own hard-earned money without needing the advice of anyone, especially not that of a male regardless of him being either our father or our husband.
As I tried to dig for sleep, the little voice in my head reminded me of the gruesome story of a girl who got raped and murdered on her work place in the neighbouring Gaeia island and this got my stomach churning. The victim was thirty and was working a late-night shift in a call centre when the security guards sexually assaulted her. Since she fought back as much as she could and threatened her assailants with police charges, they killed her by smashing her head into pieces. This brought about anger, not only from the people of Gaeia but from all over the world which merely resulted in the strengthening of the laws and the regulations pertaining to women’s safety in the island. But the change had made itself scarce. Had it been otherwise, I would not have experienced what I did tonight while returning home from work.
I advocate for women to be in a position of power as only then do we get respected even if we scare romance away. Had I been a public figure, active in politics or even in social matters, I would not have been scared to walk the streets so late at night. On top of that, when the attack attempt was being thrust at me, I had worn a decent pair of jeans, a blue top and an oversized hoodie since we are currently in winter and the cold winds that are blowing over the island at night can easily have me down with a sore throat and a bad flu as we have been seeing patients coming in at the hospital each day. But for now, fear clings on to my stomach and the butterflies that are in there are rumbling like thunder. I cannot sleep and I am even nauseous. I have gone for a live shaming of a person for the first time in my life and I am feeling weird. The truth is that I had saved myself but the fact that he can come back for me through another attack is simply overwhelming. Boldness overpowers me, and I think of joining women’s movements or even of creating one if I don’t get to find one suiting my needs. My oceans have turned stormy and the waves raging forth are nearly of tsunami type. The cliffs to which they crash on have turned weak, ready to collapse and to crumble at any time.
The women of my family have not had the opportunities that I have. For most of them, education had been a ban. Preference had been given to the boys of their family as they would be the ones carrying the lineage and inheriting the name of the family, the property and everything that comes with it and hence, they were to make sure that the rest of the society respected them and even looked up to them. Indeed, the brothers of these women were to be bold, fierce, opinionated, intelligent and even calm when it was needed to. In all, they were to be the representations of perfection. The women on the other hand, had to keep their mouths shut when it was needed and had to know when to smile when it was needed. Moreover, pertaining to everything else about their lives, they did not have choices but were imposed upon. It was the father who would choose the groom and when the marriage was done, it was the latter who would decide on anything and everything, even on the choice of clothes and the vegetables that would be bought and brought into the household. If they got sick, they would need to rely on their husband’s consideration who would decide if they had time to bring them to the doctor in the first place and if they would have money to spend for their health in the second place. If the decision came to a point where the woman’s health condition was deemed to be insignificant by the husband, then nothing could be done about it, she would have to remain as she was, relying maybe on herbal fluids and other alternative remedies.
My tortured self cannot help it anymore. I get out of bed, make myself some herbal tea and went to my alter table where I lit a candle and prayed while playing my singing bowl. The resonance calms me down to such an extent that I fall back in bed and sleep till the next morning. Fortunately, my next shift was to be tomorrow evening.
Yet, I found myself sitting in the tram on my way back home late at night after two weeks and, to make matters worse, the same pervert man was there! Surprisingly though, he did not do anything offensive.
“Must have learned his lesson,” I chuckled to myself.
This time, he was dressed in a pair of shorts, had on a white t shirt and had a green cap on his head. The tram was full with some twenty people and I could see him sitting some seven seats away. His head was lowered and he seemed to be slumbering. However, he did not alight at the Rose Hill station but, to my astonishment, he got out of the tram at my own station, which is in Quatre Bornes. For the first few seconds, as I clocked in my card, my mind seemed to have stopped working once more. The feeling of fear gripped me and my palms turned sweaty. I wondered if I should linger at the station or walk fast to my car and I decided on the second option, with a heavy gulp and a heavier heart. That one walk seemed to be the longest I had ever undertaken in my whole life. My heart was booming and I had the feeling that the whole world could hear it. I looked straight ahead, had my car keys in my hand and walked on with the claws of fear gripping me. I had the impression that someone was following me and I could even discern heavy footsteps behind me. The moment I sat in my car, I locked the doors safely and then, I could only scream out in anguish when a rock hit my windshield, shattering it. After what seemed like ages later, I started thinking again and I clumsily used my mobile phone to call the police. In the dark, I had seen a fleeting shadow run but could not decide if it was a product of my imagination. I was shaking with fear and nearly collapsed when I saw a police jeep coming near to where I was, in as little as three minutes later, the town being quite small and well-guarded at night time.
A short while later, I found myself at the town’s police station where I recounted of all that had happened.
‘I live alone,” I finished with a shaky voice. “And I now fear for my security. All I did was to protect myself.”
“Don’t worry,” one of the police officers told me. “We will arrest him and make sure that he never bothers you or anyone else again.”
I left the police station feeling somewhat calmed even if my car needed light repairs and while trying to find some sleep in bed that night, my mind wandered to my plight as a woman and again, to all those women who were oppressed in my family just because the society is patriarchal. Some of these suffer still in total silence. I know of women who are not allowed to go anywhere if they are not accompanied by their husbands, regardless of whether the latter do nothing for their households other than drinking and making merry with their friends. Having to ask for permission to attend a prayer ceremony with relatives is for me, unthinkable. I live by my own choices, my own rules and my own decisions. A woman is who I am, a woman is how I wish to be seen even if my strength is invisible, even if my voice is somewhat weak and trembling. A woman is who I am and it is how I wish to be respected as.
The next Sunday, I visit my parents and I am surprised to note that a family lunch has been organised. My mother reassures me that it is just an impromptu gathering and in the haste of getting things done, she had forgotten to invite me. But I can just feel the uneasiness that my lifestyle made to them all. My uncles and aunts look at me and talk to me kindly but behind their smiles and warm gaze I can see that I am an alien, different from them and their children in that I chose to live as I want to and not as society wishes me to. The difference between me and them all is merely the fact that the education that I have been subjected to pushed me to see life and this world from another perspective. I cannot live the one life that I have been gifted with, according to the tunes of somebody else’s harmonica. I cannot dance to tunes that I cannot vibe with. I play the instrument of my life and I even write its lyrics.
‘So how are you doing so far,” asks my father in a calm and resolute tone.
“I have something to tell you,” I say with a cringing voice.
He finally turns his face and looks at me with a perplexed expression. I want to shout out that I am to be respected, acknowledged as a person and that I have the right to exist in the society without being brandished as the one because of whom it all happened. I want to shout out that other than the respect that I seek, I require protection as well. But I just take a deep breath and relate of everything that had happened. I was expecting rebukes and reproaches but not to the extent that I was thrust with them from head to toe, not only from my father but from the whole family. I make a huge effort to keep my mouth shut and not to let my tears spill in front of them all. Blood, which is supposed to be thicker than anything else, has thinned out to a huge extent. I am just an educated modern woman. I may be a typhoon at times, ravaging all on my passage. I may be a coastal beach at other times, allowing everyone to enjoy my sandy shore and my exquisite lagoons. But all I seek is to be understood and accepted. Is that too much to ask for?
The patriarchal society has me turning my back upon it. I have survived a whole lot be it at childhood, during my adolescence and even in my adulthood. I have always had the support of my family but now, since I cannot make it up to their expectations, I wonder if I am waging through deep, murky crocodile infested waters all on my own, on board a tiny raft made of wood.
Life is spinning its truth right in front of my eyes. The beauty and the innocence that I usually believe it to be adorned with has somehow deformed itself into a horror movie. I shall be lauded, protected, only if I am carried along the arms of a prince charming. Is earth not depicted as a mother? Is the woman not worshipped as a form of the divine? If my plight is so insecure now that we are living in 2024, I wonder then how must it have been for those who toiled a long time ago. What must it be like to be imposed upon, to be given instructions as to what to do, what to wear, to be accompanied at all times and to be blamed for the sinful gaze and the sinful acts that would be hauled at them?
Life must surely have been hard a long time ago. Life has turned more practical for women now but the mindset which ruled a long time ago still lingers around. I am a survivor and I shall keep doing my best to protect myself. Who knows, someday when I shall meet my prince charming, maybe I shall be the one to save him instead of it being the other way round. The hostile dragons shall be mocking at me, ridiculing me, blaming me for everything that shall be happening to me but only I know how I deal with everything.
Among my group of friends, I am the only one to have chosen to live alone. The others are still living with their parents or are happily married. The words of an uncle come to my mind as I prepare to get to work the next day. He had said during the family lunch, that the sole purpose of a woman is to bring a child on this earth and that my clock is ticking itself away. Should I pay heed to these cruel words? Am I not myself a child of the universe, having life to play with, at will? Rearing children, getting married and everything else is and should always remain as one own’s personal decisions.
Women’s rights movements had started as early as the 1800s. Women only got the right to vote around the world since 1917. And in Mauritius, women could vote as from 1958 and at that time, we were still a British colony. Since then, we have achieved so much. As for me, I had always been attracted to nursing as a job even it such requires me to work late night shifts and to travel at odd hours. Had I been in a relationship, I would not have expected my partner to be protecting me at all costs, at all times. Hence, for me, the problem lies in the mindset. As it would seem that laws, rules, regulations and protection orders shine bright only on paper.
Freedom and rights work side by side. With freedom and rights, personal security is crucial. Someday, if I have a son or a daughter, the importance of having self-respect and of giving respect to others shall be made clear to both of them so that they don’t live situations I did, or will in the future. Or situations even worse than I did, whereby the victims could not protect themselves or get the protection they needed from the society. It is challenging to battle huge waves and my raft is small. But I just know I shall make it to a destination which shall see dawns rising at midnight and which shall carry laughter even when typhoons rage. The new destination shall allow women like me, to walk free, to dance alone, to work in all security and more importantly, to be respected and to be acknowledged as crucial members of the society, needed to allow life to appear on earth and even to thrive. As it is only women who can nurture life and give it balance to face the challenges of the tomorrows.
I am woman, I seek my place in this world. I am woman, I seek to be looked at with respect. I am woman, I want my voice to be heard. I am woman, with all that which makes me what I am; broods, hormones, fragility and needs. I am woman and all I wish for is to live. I pray the whole wide world allows me to. I am woman, hence, a survivor having to mend those who wish to break me. I am woman, I am inner strength and I shall be the one to be heeded at the time which shall be most crucial. I am woman, my name is Aphra and I am a survivor. My heartful thoughts go to all those women who could not protect themselves from the evil that lurks, waiting for the right time to act. I am woman and this world belongs to me as much as it belongs to those called men.
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