I have come across the devil on several occasions and no, he does not have a bloody face with horns neither is he smart and suave like what we see in the TV series Lucifer. Instead, he just comes in the form of a man ( and I’m not using man to represent both genders) with fat, wrinkly and slimy hands which he cannot keep to himself. In matatus, especially, in schools posing as teachers or workers, on the streets! The whole world is populated by the devil!! Time to evacuate people, or rather, time to evacuate women!
What’s worse is that these horny old goats are in fact just that; old! I wish it were adolescents then we could play the ancient game and blame the hormones but no, it is men who are over forty who are committing this atrocities! I, personally, cannot sit next to a matatu driver. Let there be rain, let there be shine, let it be the last remaining matatu on earth but never again will I sit next to the matatu driver; not after last time.
It was raining, I was at the bus stop and only two vehicles were at the terminus; a bus and a matatu and being typically Kenyan, I chose the matatu. A few minutes into the journey, I started feeling uncomfortable. The driver was changing the gear too often and it kept brushing against my thighs. So, I crossed my legs ( I know very little about driving cars, so let the pro have his space.) But guess what? Driving was the least of his interests unfortunately, that had been replaced with a certain unfathomable fascination with my thighs. What’s more, they weren’t even naked thighs they were under a very thick layer of clothing. And even if they had been naked, hell even if I had been in a bikini suit or sitting completely naked he would still have no right to touch me! Whether i had just come from having a one night stand in some strangers car, or I am a sex worker from Koinange street still, and read my lips okay imagine reading my lips, he would still have no right to touch me! Because of him, I had to burn my favorite pair of trousers because every time I wore them, I could still feel his disgusting fingers on me. I knew I could have shouted at him, screamed but somehow my throat seemed clogged. To all you horny old goats reading this; just because I don’t shout doesn’t mean I’m enjoying it. No, no, I am actually too scared and too disgusted to say anything. Well, that was my experience thousands of other girls have theirs some even more terrifying. And the worst part is, there’s nothing we can do about it. Its technically not rape so you can’t involve the police given that the sexual harassment laws of Kenya are somewhere in a dumpster in the 1920’s. Besides people are so quick to blame the girls…” Oh you are the one who has seduced him, look at what you are wearing,” All that is a load of bullshit! How many other men have I sat next to in this very same outfit? Does the outfit carry a spell which when cast all sense of self control, humanness, Godliness and self respect fly out of the window? And if so why does it only affect some people, no they don’t deserve to be called people, some eh…animals doesn’t suit them either, some **%$&#s!!
The most surprising thing though about the above named is that most of them have families, daughters to be precise. How would you feel if your own daughter was being hunted down (literally) by someone who you entrusted your child to? You know, I used to read those Sara books and think, ‘This stuff happened long time ago, when formal education was just beginning in dark Africa.’ Yet here we are; a teacher offering birthday cards and apples in exchange for sex with a student. First off, is she like nine?(Apples and a card seriously?) Second and most astonishing a whole teacher! Shame on you for soiling Jesus’ occupation! This and all such cases are going unreported but where is the need yet everyone is on his side? No one wants to believe their employee/father/pastor did such a thing. Does it mean we have to wait until they rape us so that you can believe? So that you can take action?
In fact, I take back my words, its not time to vacate earth, the solution is to reclaim it from the devils! I once had a classmate who used to carry a geometrical set divider in her pocket and wouldn’t be scared to brandish it or even, if worst came to worst, pierce where it matters. I’m not suggesting we all adopt her mechanism, I’m just saying we should start looking for those old geometrical sets abandoned in the attic; suddenly they have some use!