Hiss and Hers
My niece joined form one the other day. She didn’t get her school of choice but she ended up in a good school. She was second in her class. The girl who came in first got admitted to the school my niece wanted to join. She (my niece) wasn’t happy. She still isn’t happy when the thought crosses her mind. I can see it on her face whenever the subject comes up. If I could, I would turn the tables for her. I do love her. I have watched her grow. It’s because of her that I know how a nappy combines with a liner. Diapers became common the other day. I fed her nestle products. At times I would take two spoons of her Weetabix. Well. When left to watch over the baby you must certify everything before feeding it to her. And the story goes on. She’s a big girl now. She even has a bank account and a Debit Card. I don’t know how to say this, but I learnt that she also now owns a bra. Sorry. A couple of bras. I feel like using the words, ‘I don’t know how to explain this’
Somehow I felt she’s now grown up. Not that I think bras mean someone is grown up. Ladies. Forgive me if I don’t end up clearing this conundrum.
One day am seated with her. Her brothers were around watching something on the screen. Three of them. Lots of testosterone right there. I lean in, whisper into her ears and ask whether she has a boyfriend yet. She laughs it off then says no. she gives me this ‘I am focusing on my studies’ face. Attagirl!
A part of me wanted to tell her that if any man ever touches her, she should report to me immediately. To this day, that part of me still wants to tell her so. That’s where the bra discovery comes up. I felt the woman in her was forming. She is now more attractive. She has long hair that flows on her shoulders like Niagara Falls. And then she has a njarumi. Am sure boys want her. Am now getting that thing men feel about their little sisters. You don’t want them wooed by anyone. You fear they might get hurt. Especially by boys or men you don’t approve of. I didn’t ask if she had a boyfriend because I want her to have a boyfriend. Of course at some point she will get one and there’s nothing I will do about it. Might scare him a bit but I must also respect her choices. I simply asked so that if she had any, I would get to know where he lives then track him down.
At this point, am protecting the love I have for her with hatred. I know there is the inevitable. But for now, all boys must go through the Kavulundi Committee.
In john Grisham’s book, A Time to Kill. Carl Lee’s daughter is brutally raped by some boys. I know where am going with this. It’s a fiction book. I know. Well. He ends up shooting the boy with an M16. He couldn’t live with the fact that whoever raped his daughter was still alive. A court sentence wasn’t enough. He wanted more and he got it. Using hate to protect love.
Now! (If you have never started a sentence with Now I don’t know what you are doing with your communication skills)
My girl calls me back. I had called her earlier but she said she couldn’t talk. She’s calm. Calm is not her normal. Well. She’s not psycho but there are people who are not commonly calm unless they are calm. So something is wrong. That thing is flirting with her voice and her voice is giving in. I can hear it. I don’t rush her. It will unspool right in front of me. Like ice-cream oozes down the sides of the cone and onto your fingers. Right now she’s like a girl am crushing on. I have to be gentle. Take her slow. The ice-cream can ooze onto my fingers but am not scaring her off.
She had planned to meet a certain uncle of hers. He had asked to buy her lunch as they catch up. It’s those ‘you can’t be in my town and not see me’ kind of calls uncles give.
She readies herself. She’s going to meet her uncle. Maybe talk about school. At some point maybe he will throw in a line that starts with ‘during our days’. He will tell her how as a lady she should be determined because it’s no longer a patriarchal society. But it doesn’t end up that way.
He wants her touchy. I will spare you the nasty details. We are talking over the phone because she couldn’t get the courage to tell it to my face. She’s crying. Asking me whether it was her choice that she was born a girl. Why men are seeing her as a piece of flesh rather than the girl she is. She had had another encounter where some boy made some comment about her lady bum. It troubled her.
She asked me a lot of questions that I didn’t answer. At times we don’t have answers for the people that we love. So we just listen. Then the mind will start thinking of revenge tactics. You wish you could open a freezer and find revenge packed in there.
She is positive but there’s what men have put in her mind. It’s like having the idea that ice-cream is sweet but every time you take it you develop a cold. Or worse still when you keep a pet that ends up swallowing you after Christmas.
It was his uncle. She couldn’t tell her mum. He’s a respected man. Family ties are hard to deal with. I had to let it go. When you love someone, not doing something is not what you want to do. You want to fight back for them because that’s what love is about. But we let it go.
I have lost count of the times I have thought what I would do if someone raped my niece or any of my girls. My niece especially. I have had some of my girls raped. I still think of how I could get the IP addresses of those guys at times. I want to tie them up like they do in the Saw series. A dark room. Chains. A table with scary silver paraphernalia. Then ask them whether we should start with their tongue or their pupils. Perhaps pulling off their nails would help clean the dirt under them..
Now! Now! On the flipside. I have been the assailant. It’s best I use myself. I have been with someone’s little sister or niece. I have done things they wouldn’t love done to them. Well, I didn’t rape them or have consensual coitus with them. But for a lack of a better word, shit happened.
Ladies are raped by men like me who swear how much they love their nieces. How much they would protect them. By men who are married with kids. Men who are their uncles but want to get into their pants. On one side I don’t want any boy kissing my niece but on the flipside I want to kiss someone’s niece because I think I deserve it.
My girl really loves laughing. She will even laugh to my lame jokes but when she doesn’t laugh on a phone call, usually something is not right. Her joy means a lot to me. That laughter speaks her peace. What if men stopped the act? I can’t say I know what rape does to a girl, but I have seen its silhouette. I have seen its shadows on a late evening. It is silent. It slithers in and out like a snake. And like a snake it comes with Hiss and hers t-shirts. It’s a déjà vu t-shirt.
I owe my niece a dress. Now its plus wedge shoes plus whatever else she will penalize me for delaying the delivery. I want to take her shopping and watch her new dress in the mirror. A girl and a dress. I don’t want to see her sad. She can be sad about the school she wanted to join. We can deal with that. Otherwise, you will find me taking tea from a metallic cup. Wavy steam rising up. I will be rubbing my dogs head with my right hand as my shotgun rests on my laps. We will watch the sun set. Images will turn reddish, then into silhouettes. Then the stars and the moon will shine. My dog will bark. A few more minutes then we will go home. We will have a sound night because our girl is safe.
The sun will rise. I will put on my college jacket and wear a smile. Hit the streets and flirt with any girl who doesn’t have a man on watch with a shotgun and a dog. The snake in me will tell her that she is the apple of my eye and that I can give her a happy Eden. Then I will slither off. Then later my ghost will slither in Hiss and hers t-shirts.
Like it? Whisper us in your circles.
Merci!
