I’m emotionally sensitive, even the littlest things can make me feel awful (an argument with a friend, a broken glass). And I feel pressured to be straight, thus I constantly compare myself to the person my elder sister was when she was my age. My parents expect me to do great things – but I don’t feel like that person. I can’t cry in front of them because I don’t want to tell them why I’m crying. I know their response would be “we don’t expect you to do those things” but that’d be a lie.
I grew up as a dreamer. I guess like most wealthy kids raised to be great and successful people in this world. It’s a good thing because you only see the side of possibilities and capabilities and not the side of being rejected and failing. A sublime childhood I can say. Always daring. Adulthood: the hood I never prepared myself for. No matter how excited I was for it. In a protective African family, you’re not trained to fight for yourself, identify your path, set your goals, commit, succeed – or even fail and redo to get a place in this world until it’s the only choice you’re left with. Certainly, that can’t be an excuse in spite of everything, being alive is to fight and everyone gives what they have.
During my final year at university, I started an internship at this renowned health-based institution. I didn’t know a thing; I had to flow with the idea. I was among the luckiest students to be allowed to undertake an internship there. I did all I could to be seen as a potential young lady who has a purpose. I did it so carefully, respectfully, fearfully like someone who is walking on glasses to not wake up dormant demons.
Living is an everyday choice that you make to yourself, whatsoever, and the way you do it is, of course, the definition of your life and legacy. During the internship, I used a lot of physical energy to be present on time, to deliver every task that I was assigned instead of finding myself and creating the self-image that will last.
“Hi! You look nice.” Andrew, my workmate said. He’s the Finance Manager, a smart guy with top humor – a mature man. I’ve been listening to his jokes from the collider because we work and sit in opposite offices but met a few times on project budgets or during lunch. I may say he knows that I work for the institution, but there’s no relationship outside work.
“Thank you!” I whispered
“You’re welcome. How are you doing today?” He inquired
Then it clicked in my mind quickly; why is he being nice to me today? How do I get myself from this? What’s the best answer to give? How do I show him that I’m interesting and smart and funny and, and, and.
“I’m good! How are you?”
“I’m well too; been wondering how to approach you. You seem so into your work.”
Oh really? Does it mean that I’ve attained my goal to fool people without them knowing my flaws?
“Not at all. You’re the one who is always busy with work.”
“Let’s share a drink someday.”
“Yeah, why not,” I babbled.
I couldn’t get this idea out of my mind, so I started searching for clothes and shoes, makeup to put on, perfume, and doing my hair and nails. Be a perfect image, they say.
The first date or rendezvous didn’t make it; he didn’t follow up and I too kept silent. Stupid me didn’t even ask his phone number and neither did he, and I wasn’t going to send him an email.
It’s Monday and I’m staring at him during the meeting as he’s making his presentation and all the time our eyes meet it feels like he’s using ultra rays to see my body and heartbeats. After the meeting he brings back the subject.
“Hey, Lady! Didn’t we have a rendezvous this weekend?“
“Hi! We actually did”
“Then, what happened? You changed your mind and didn’t inform me? I thought I was going to see you out of this office.”
What do I say? “You didn’t call. I thought you were busy.”
“No! That’s not true. You should have let me know that you were available.” He moaned
So now the blame is on me?! Wow. I just stared at him in silence
“What about Friday evening?” he asked
“Let me think about it” I already knew the answer but didn’t want to sound like an easy target
“Great. I’ll be waiting for your response.”
The next day he comes to my office before reaching his, to get the answer. To which I say yes.
It’s finally Friday, there’s cold weather outside and I’m wearing a dress and boots to feel some hotness in addition to having a date tonight. I’m not even sure about what I’m going to do at work, except from waiting for 6 pm to finally have some time alone with this good-looking guy. My legs are shaking and my mind is busy arranging the discussion that will take over. What quote should I state, perhaps a joke to make him admire me? I can see he can be a husband material (why am I even thinking about this?). I hope he likes me. My eyes can’t get off the clock – tick-tock. Is he excited as I am?
It’s time; we silently drive to this 514 Restaurant; there’s good music and we order something to drink.
“What will you take?”
“I’ll have a glass of white wine, sweet”
“Uhm, for me, I’ll take a cold Heineken, thank you”
Then the conversation kicked in “So, how are you? Tell me about yourself, you’re so quiet at work but also captivating, the way you observe people and do your things calmly, anyway tell me.”
Gosh; is this flirty? I didn’t even know that this is how he sees me. Should I say that I’m an ordinary shy girl that has a crush on him? Or keep it professional and tell him about my ambitions and dreams?
Nothing comes from my mouth within 10 seconds. I’m thinking and giggling
“Hahaha! I’m a simple girl who loves calmness.” In fact, I’m mentally imprisoned.
He looks me in the eyes and I’m so shy to keep my hands, my mind, and my eyes straight. I want to explain that I don’t find my voice easily, but he’d be disappointed maybe.
“You told me you did Public Relations or Political Sciences? Cause I can’t differentiate the 2 with your response. But it’s okay, I’ll take that.” He said
Thank you. I hope I’ll be more precise and open with the next question. If there’s any.
“And where do you live, how did you get an internship at our institution? Many young people fight to get it but don’t.” He added
Well, “I live in Vision City Apartments with my family; about the internship, I guess I’ve been lucky. I sent a letter describing my objectives and interests to work with the institution and made follow-ups.” Politics on the table, I can’t reveal my support system to be there. Luckily, the drinks are served, now I have somewhere to hide. I hope he still gets interested in me, at least starts the conversation. He has my total attention.
“You’re so wise at choosing words yet you’re still young.”
Am I? He’s lying; my negativity doesn’t allow me to receive such kind of compliments.
I smile then take a sip of wine. “I learned from the best.” Giving him a glance that I learned from him.
My inner sexual desire is aroused by this wine, good music, and his eyes on me. I want him to hold my hands but I can’t say a thing, how would he take it?
“You know I’m always impressed by your dressing style. You dress like Michelle Obama.”
Wooooh! Does he really see me? What is he trying to insinuate? “Oh! Thank you!” with a smile on my face; if I were light-skinned my cheeks would be red.
“Do you dance?” I asked; the alcohol is having its effect in my body, now I can express my needs and show the crazy side.
“Hahaha! I try. But let’s have it” he whispered
“Ok”
It’s around 10 pm and we’re officially opening up the flow near the Dj. It’s sweet and simple. I’m having more wine and he has added some shots of Vodka.
“Would you like to shift the place? I know a very good place where we can enjoy more” he’s asking
“I don’t mind” I’m open to his idea
The next place we’re moving to I’m almost drunk, I can see the sparkling lights and people moving in waves however the show is unstoppable. I keep acting/appearing as if I still have clear thoughts but the truth is I’m drunk and horny, nevertheless I’m not willing to have sex this early with Andrew.
My head is hurting, I can’t open my eyes very well; I don’t know where I am. No, this can’t happen just like the way it did. There’s so much light coming into the room and there’s someone next to me. I’m naked, and I think he is too. It’s Andrew. I can’t feel my heart, I think I’m dreaming or dead, either way, the feeling is unpleasant. When something like this happens, you want nothing to do with reality. You want to pull back and close up. I hope it’s a dream cause this ain’t good at all; for God’s sake what was I thinking?
He saw that I was awake,
“Good morning!” he said
“Hi” very shy and feeling horrible about what happened. “I want to go home”
“Oh I can call on a cab for you”
I can’t even look him in the eyes while he’s making some calls. Before leaving the room, I stopped for a moment, there’s a question that I want to ask him.
“Should I get a morning-after pill?” I don’t know if we used a condom or not. And it’s so dumb of me to put my life in his hands like that. I haven’t checked my menstrual cycle in a while.
“Yeah. Sure, you should” he said
Which exactly? Is it Post-Exposure prophylaxis or NorLevo? Or both? Closed the door firmly cause I’m pissed off. My mind is not stable. I need to rest anywhere away from him. Why didn’t he use the damn condom? God damn I spend my time teaching other girls about safe sex and standing up for their rights.
All weekend he neither called nor texted to even know how I was; I don’t recall everything that happened that night, only a few flashbacks, and part of it is, he was pulling down my pants against my will, and tears falling on my face. But i was weak. I’m terrified about what really happened.
The next Monday I have a small meeting with James, the Director of Research, and Dr. Bumagi, the Division Manager, about partnership development and the project implementation planning. But as Michelle Obama once said, “We are so grateful to have a seat at the table that we are too afraid to shake things up.” I felt that because, sometimes when I am fighting to earn respect or an argument I give up, because unlearning who to be in front of people, especially men, is still a challenge. So many ideas are flowing in my head but I can’t speak up, I feel like writing it down on paper because my lips are shaking and I can’t formulate a simple phrase right away. The whole meeting I kept silent only to think about Andrew. I’m losing it.
Andrew and I met at lunchtime and just greeted each other like nothing happened. I want to ask him exactly how we ended up in that room and if I consented to having sex with him but the shame of drunkenness is all-over my mind. Still what did it mean to him?
I kept on attending work until I didn’t feel alive. I knew I wasn’t going to live like that and I wasn’t either ready to move out of the place; so for a while, I got off the bed in the morning and inhaled & exhaled the entire day long, and just kept putting one foot in front of the other to survive at that scandal. I no longer want to be a girl who only stimulates the ambiance. I guess I’ll never know why Andrew did what he did and does what he does today, acting like nothing happened.
Some of my close friends that heard about the story were of the view that it was rape; which it is, but I’m not sure that I want to get him in prison. What if he showed up the next day with flowers on my door to acknowledge the moment we both had together? Would it ease the pain? I guess so, as I developed some feelings for him. What if I report the case? Will I have proof of it? The time is running, and it amplifies the big void in me, not only for being so stupid in exposing my life like that, but also I’ve betrayed my gender for not fighting hard enough for myself.
Today I have an appointment with Dr. Bumagi and he’s known to treat people like shit, and I’m at the lowest point to confront his narcissism. In his office, I’m staring at his daughter’s photo card on the table; she’s still a baby in the picture. How will her life go when she grows up? Will she struggle to find herself in this life? What if she does? Will her dad be able to provide everything that she needs? But who knows? There’s no guarantee of anything in this world. However much we plan and prepare, there’s always a probability of otherwise, and it matters.
Him: How long have you been here?
Me: Uh! It’s been 5 months.
Him: I heard you wanted to move to the Research Department; however I’m afraid it won’t be possible because I still need you in Communications. I’m the one who approves here, where I want someone to be, that’s where they go.
Me: I thought we agreed on this last time, this is not our first discussion about the matter.
Him: “I’ll tell you when to go at the right time. We’re still searching for a perfect candidate to replace you.
Is this a joke?”
Him: “You’re reserved; sometimes I wonder if you’re not a spy” (smiling)
What does that have to do with our conversation?
Him: Maybe you got it from your father, where is he working now? Is he still in the country? He’s a military personnel, right?
What the f**k?
Me: No, he’s not
We both kept silent just staring at each other; I didn’t know what he was thinking and I guess he acquired something different from my knowledge.
Him: “What? isn’t he,” he then told me the name of the soldier he thought was my dad
Me: No. but he lives in our neighborhood.
I could see that he was shocked.
Him: “So you guys lied to me?”
He was referring to my aunt who requested the internship for me at the institution, but it turns out she had to lie for me to get it. So disgusting.
Me: “We never talked about that. What does it have to do with my role here?” I was getting angry
Him: Still looking me in the eyes. “I would have never given it to you, had I known the truth”
Time stopped, I got confused, unhinged. What is he talking about? What the hell is going on? I feel like crying, but again I’d need to scream and I can’t do that shit.
Him: “I’m being honest with you. This whole time I thought you were Gen. Murt’s daughter. But again I kept asking myself, why would your aunt intervene if you were?” He proceeded.
A long silence kicks in, “Why? Why wouldn’t you?” my voice barely carried beyond my mind.
Him: “That’s not how things work; this is a high institution which can’t be accessed by anyone.” He responded.
I wasn’t able to release my anger and express my emotions as I wanted. From an early age, I was one of those people who never rebel even though I deeply wanted to, I was just terrified of getting in trouble, so my anger is very deep-seated. I didn’t let it out because I didn’t live in the kind of world where people express themselves.
F**k this world, f**k this system.
The air is so crowded; it’s so difficult to breathe in. My flesh is removed from my bones. I can’t even speak about it to my closest friend. It’s so embarrassing and deranging.
Luckily during the night, it rained. And as I couldn’t sleep, I went outside alone and naked to be touched by the rain to feel the connection between my body and nature. I no longer had any idea of what I wanted to do in life. The fear, anger, and guilt of letting myself be trifled with, rose high that I identified myself into it.
“Don’t be afraid to quit your job if it’s wearing you out.” I could think to myself. But wait … how will I survive? Who is going to take me in charge? One of my friends told me that quitting a job without a backup plan is likely to worsen an already fragile mental health state. And I was like, therefore, I’m going to live for a paycheck, is that what you mean? I’m not finding myself.
Thinking about all these adds nothing to me except stress and anxiety. This made me come as close as I can to feeling what it’s like to look at the world in this way of injustice and cruelty.
I took 3 weeks off work to recharge my energy, then came back, prepared a presentation on Communication Plan, then quit.
I mean, on account of my therapist who has been of great support lately, she has found a way to stop time in my world. “You can always hold Andrew accountable for what he did and be heard. Whenever you’re ready.” That’s her words. The feeling of aliveness is exhilarating in me.
