That heading is what it is because I couldn’t think of any other heading to classify what I am about to write. While washing my clothes today, my mind flashed back to what happened about a week ago in the boys quarters just as the back of my house.
I was in my room, on the bed, with my phone, when I heard something like “Don’t forget your charger”. It was shouted with force and I heard some other things that I didn’t want to acknowledge just because I didn’t want to leave my phone and check what was going on. However, as a result of the intensity in the statement, I couldn’t ignore anymore and I walked to my window, which provided me a view of the B. Q. Since I was staying just behind the window, I was able to hear and discover a few more things. A woman was shouting and crying, but I could hear nothing more. I waited, certain I was going to see something and it did not take long. The door was forced open with brutal force and I saw a woman, someone I knew as a neighbor, crying and shouting at someone inside. I still couldn’t hear anything, but at this point, I was sure a man was responsible for the tears.
The lady packed her bags and entered inside again, but this time, leaving the door wide open. This time, I was able to hear more clearly. She was telling him to leave, saying she had nothing to do with him, and did not understand why he would come to her house just to beat her. Suddenly, the door closed with such force that even I had to close the curtain, leaving just a little space just enough for me to peak without being noticed. This time, she shouted louder. I heard curses, I heard moans, and I heard cries. I heard nothing from the man.
I heard blows. I mean it. Somehow I think the man was even flogging her with a belt. I felt sorry for her, but I was rooted to the spot. At that point, it did not occur to me to call for any help. The lady came out again, but this time, the man followed. She shouted and pulled the singlet he had on, and he slapped her. It surprised me greatly, as I had never physically witnessed violence being inflicted on an individual.
After the slap, the man seemed to have had his full as he went back inside, came back out with a green polo, which the lady dragged with him to drop since it was hers. As I watched her cry, I knew it just wasn’t the shirt distressing her. It was something else. Most probably the fact that he had beaten her in her own house.
The man took the shirt from her, removed his singlet, flung it at her, then left. She cursed him as he left. She cursed his generations.
It was after the man had departed that the a resident came to console. I was sure she had heard when the fire was still raging, but did not want to face the burn(just like me, except I couldn’t console when there was nothing else to do. She must have realized whoever came to sympathize must have seen all that happened and still didn’t help. I felt she would just hate the person more, though she wouldn’t show it) . More so, it was a woman that came to see her. An elderly woman, who could have easily being pushed away by the man. The man was not drunk, that I was very sure of, and still he inflicted so much violence on the lady.
(For the sake of protecting the people involved anonymous, I have omitted some of what also happened,and might have used a false location. I will stop here with the story, and say what really remained in my mind after watching this episode. )
As I said earlier, I had never witnessed an individual beaten. I had inly ever read about it, but since I witnessed it, I have being forced to think about it. How would a man lay his hand on a woman? And how would a woman lay her hand on a man?
I know the second is not so referred to as our punches may not even be so significant compared to that of a man. But then, I’ve read articles concerning violence in the matrimonial home, where the wife beats her husband to the state of injury.
We are all human beings, and just because we are if different sex does not permit us to inflict violence. Male violence is more prevalent in the society because it is easier for a woman to be the target of the anger since we are the weaker once.
To any body reading this, don’t encourage violence in any form. I don’t care if a man is superior and is the bread winner of the home, he possesses no right to lay his hand on a woman in a violent manner, and I don’t care if the woman is the bread winner, she has no right to lay her hand on her husband in a violent manner.
People escape from it, but none really escapes. They are plagued forever, because I don’t think it’s possible for someone to forget abuse inflicted, no matter the kind of help that is taken. It’s something that remains rooted in you forever, and if you were even to take a step further, it would mean pretending it never happened.
It’s crazy imagining it. Really fu*cking crazy (I don’t understand why I asterick these things. Whoever reading it surely knows what I’m talking about)