Posts Tagged ‘Women’

I was having dinner, and catching up with gossip on Linda Ikeji’s blog. And then I saw a story about two women who, accused of stealing pepper, had been stripped naked, beaten, and had the pepper poured into one of them. Not into her mouth, into her vagina. I watched it, simply because I didn’t believe the story was true. I didn’t believe that that level of sadism was possible.

It was true. Every word of it. Understated more like.

What the narrative didn’t say was that the lady who was worse off was pushed from her kneeling position to lie flat on her back, and one of the men placed his foot on her head to hold her down while the pepper was poured into her.

The narrative didn’t say she was begging for mercy, that she was whipped and prodded with a stick like an animal, and that the men rubbed this pepper on her and the other lady.

The narrative also didn’t say there were other men who apparently were so fascinated by this incident that they whipped out their phones and started taking pictures/filming.

Finally, the narrative didn’t mention that once you hear the woman scream (as the pepper goes into her), that is all you’ll hear for the rest of the evening.

The video is 8.25minutes of torture, left me in tears by the time I got to the end of it. I willed myself to watch it to the end because I wanted to build the anger to be able to do this.

Even if the ladies were guilty, there is no excuse under heaven to treat women like that. No one (regardless of their crime) deserves to be stripped, beaten, and then tortured like that.

I don’t want to forget the video, and I don’t want to forget the women.

And so I make this appeal: let’s find them. It is possible to find them and the animals who did this to them.

The narrative mentions ‘Iyana Ejigbo’; my Yoruba is poor and so beyond ‘sanu mi’ (have mercy on me) and ‘ata’ (pepper), I didn’t understand the rest of the video. But I’ve enlisted someone who will help translate in the morning. I have also found where Iyana Ejigbo is. @bisiogunwale said “Iyana literally means ‘road to’; Ejigbo is the actual suburb, located between Isolo and Ikotun”. I have also found someone who has asked her friend (who lives in the area) to have a look around, talk to people, see if someone knows/saw/heard something.

This is how you can help:

I hear Ejigbo is a small  but densely populated area, and so one person might not be able to cover a lot of ground. Who else can volunteer to visit the area, ask around? Preferably in a group with people/someone who speaks yoruba proficiently. Get in touch.

Are there any charities/groups/societies in Lagos who cater to abused women? Who will be willing to work with me/us to counsel and rehabilitate these women, get them to reveal the identities of their assailants and then take this up with the Police and the courts? If you’ve got contact details to share, please get in touch.

That’s all.

Every site I’ve seen carrying this story says “Lagos Police please find these men”; I say let’s find the women and let them ‘lead’ us to the men. It is not enough to tweet/post to Facebook condemning the act, let’s match those with action.

Remember Aluu 4? The men who, in a mob could take the lives of those four men started out like this. Violence begets violence. Let us find them and stop them.

Thank you.

 

Recently I walked into a lounge with my cousin and his fiancée with a couple of friends and their partners too. Shout out to those who have already made the mental note about me being unattached, errr, that’s not what this is about!

A friend had just graduated and we wanted to make it a special evening for him. We were all dressed to the nines: new outfits and hair styles, I was on point! You know that moment when you look in the mirror and tell yourself: ‘choi! I’m fine sha!’ That’s how I felt, that I had trumped every potential hot babe in that lounge (because we ladies dress up for ourselves, not the guys).

We got to the lounge late, with the confidence of chubby penguins. The tables we had reserved had been taken over by some ladies who at the moment were giving us the dressing down of our lives with their eyes. My God! One of them looked at me with so much venom; if looks could kill her eyes would have wiped out my family using me as a point of contact!

Wish I could tell you about the champagne popping ‘competition/incident’ that followed; it was as hilarious as it was silly. Did I mention the ‘pepper eye’ was only for us chics? By the end of the night these ladies were grinding on the men but still rolling their eyes at us. I came away from that evening thinking, ‘ki lo de? Why do women hate/dislike/beef other women’? Why do we feel the next woman has to be the enemy even before we get to know them?

Before you absolve yourself of guilt, have you ever been among your peers (guys or girls) and the first (and probably only) comment you can offer after sizing up another female, has to be nasty? Every other lady has to be an example of what not to wear, sometimes even how not to be created? Are you in the ‘I get along more with guys’ club? Or the ‘if-she’s-rich-she-has-to-be-doing-something-wrong’ school of thought? Of course if it’s a guy he’s hard working, but a lady? Noooooooo.

Does every female look like a potential hawk waiting to snatch your innocent ‘she-made-me-do-it’ (in)significant other? Do you think the only reason the other lady is in your office is to take your job and so before the ink on her employment letter dries you make it your life’s goal to frustrate her out of the place?

It’s funny, but very sad too; when did we stop looking out for each other? I stumbled on some research in The Economist where researchers tried to find amongst other things, which would hurt a prospective female employee more, a CV with a photo or not. Conclusion? “Old fashioned jealousy led women to discriminate against pretty (female) candidates”. Seriously?

Straight talk ladies, quit it! And I have a few ways to help.

  1. If there’s something you find you’re beefing another lady for, 80% of the time it’s because you don’t have it. So get it and move on, or realize you can’t get it, and move on!
  2. Know this: you appear petty, unappealing, and insecure when you go on this hate route around guys. They might laugh at your nastiness but trust me, you’re less a lady in their sight.
  3. Deal with yourself: sometimes all the hate is a manifestation of deeper issues; get help before it gets out of hand.

Have I said all women are perfect, that I haven’t been hurt (severally) by my lady friends? No. But hating on a total stranger? Beneath me. The golden rule doesn’t isolate gender. We shouldn’t.

 

Ok, so today’s the day I’ll let you in on the post that didn’t quite make it to the top 10 of the Commonwealth Competition; I’m learning, and looking forward to the day I’ll tell you I won it, because I know I will, and in this life time!

I’ve always been passionate about violence against women and all the issues surrounding that because whether we like it or not, it is our sisters, wives, girlfriends and mothers getting beaten/abused by men who have sworn (in secret or in the open) to love, honor, and protect the women they now batter with reckless abandon! I have never understood how a man can beat his wife in the morning, and then with the same hands, hold her at night.  The Scriptures say a stream cannot produce sweet and bitter water, same way I KNOW the same hands can’t produce different results! So I don’t get carried away, let’s leave this talk for another day.

One final digression (pretty please), last night a friend sent me a Blackberry Message that read, “I was bored so I decided to go on Google and search – what do women want? Google search result? We are also searching!” Sexist as it sounded, it made me laugh!! I’ll deal with that friend, but later. Let’s not detract from my beautiful story reproduced below, titled ‘Devil May Care’ (these past couple of days I have wondered why I gave it that name….maybe it was even one of the things that worked against it).

DEVIL MAY CARE

“Why won’t you stop hitting me”, Celia managed to gasp between slaps that so stunned her she was surprised then disappointed she hadn’t fainted yet. After passing out more than twice in the last six weeks from ‘corrections’ from her Darren, fainting wasn’t scary any more. Matter of fact, it had become her escape route; he always stopped beating her when she fainted. And even if he didn’t stop, at least she wouldn’t feel it.

Celia was grateful; in the midst of the beating she was getting, she was grateful. Grateful that she had convinced her husband that their six-bedroom mansion needed redecorating, and she wanted to do it herself. 

She had exchanged the glass table for mahogany, covered the tiles in just about every part of the house with thick plush carpets that made her smile every time her feet sunk into them, and replaced the glass and metal figurines in the living room with portraits and pictures cased in soft wood.

Celia felt safe with her work, now she would only have to absorb the punches and slaps. She also enjoyed the twisted comfort of knowing that if she fell, and more when than if, she wouldn’t hurt as bad as she had the day she had, upon collision, shattered the glass table in the living room.

She tasted blood in that moment, and couldn’t immediately tell if she had lost a tooth, bitten her tongue, or if the blood had run down her head. Sometimes she couldn’t tell.

She couldn’t tell a lot of things. She couldn’t tell why he was beating her, today or any other day; she just knew it wasn’t this way from the beginning. She had been good; always had a hot meal ready for him, the house sparkled, and she had worked hard to maintain her stunning figure after two sons and two trauma induced miscarriages. She never refused him either, and she could swear he would come crawling into her bed tonight, he always did. Followed of course by cards, a new car, an exotic holiday, blank cheque……

“Why are you smiling Celia?” “Are you mocking me?” “Are you?” “Are you?” She imagined hell, Darren looked so incensed she could literally feel the sparks flying off his face as he thundered. And as she crumbled under the kick to her stomach, slipping into nothingness she was again thankful for the carpet and wondered if she had picked the right colour.

That’s it, that’s the entry I sent in. I tried to find the guidelines for entry so anyone who wanted to comment would have a background but I wasn’t successful. Doesn’t mean you can’t pick the story apart though, please feel free to, thank you!!!

P:S – I hand in my final assignments tomorrow, whoop whoop!!

Secondly, I’m excited that the animal masked as an envoy that Nigeria sent out has been recalled. I’m sorry but yes I’ve judged him already, and he is guilty! There is no reason under heaven for battering a woman, no reason at all. I just hope that he will be prosecuted swiftly; it took more than 10 days since Kenyan papers broke the story for Nigeria to recall him. Put the beast away already!