Every morning the newspaper comes and seldom, now it seems like never will there be a day when heart melting stories of rape victims or stories of rape victims do not appear.If it’s not the newspaper it TV,internet or word of mouth It’s all so terrible, horrible that sometimes it all seems so near to fiction but it’s “true” reality is stranger than fiction just much more ruthless and even kids are not spared. Often we are left to wonder, why sadly our quest for answer ends in the question itself.
I had never prior to now ever ‘seen’ or talked to a rape victim this was my first encounter sadly a little girl of 8 years old a totally chance meeting if I may say so. I had lots of doubts, questions and fear I can’t exactly describe it all seems such a futile effort of mind at present.
The first time I met her after so many hours of avoidance was when she barged into my office space and before I could become aware of my un-surety she just took it all away. “Pretty sister” she exclaimed holding my hand after that moment she just wouldn’t leave my side until the evening when she had to go to her parental home for court hearing, she kept telling everyone around that she will come back after the court hearing to stay here with us because she simply loves it here.
She entertained all in the office by her song by her impromptu song and dance routine interrupted by her sudden peals of laughter and questions, why is this box (computer) black? How can you call when your phone has no numbers? First we were patient in giving our ‘made-up’ answers but, what ,where,how and why were so many we ultimately had to no option but to order her in a strict voice , to sit in a corner with finger on her lips. Our strict avatar was not real enough maybe she kept up her funny antics filling every nook and corner of our office with laughter.
She sat right next to me sometimes combing my hair with her little fingers or telling me not to drink too much coffee and at times giving me wisdom filled advice. My colleagues asked her why she liked me and not them; she answered “she is so white”. Yes I am a little fair but others were too to this counter argument she just kept mum. Time and sorrow had taught her to detect fear I think.
4 hours she stayed with us and left, leaving us to normalcy. For a day we touched, felt; saw the truth and the truth was “pretty” not scary.
I cannot tell of the pain she bore physical mental but I can tell one fact it was, is and always be many times of her age.
Question Mark (Photo credit: auntiepauline)