How I Was Almost Raped At 20

You could say I was stupid.

If you’ve seen Baby Reindeer on Netflix, I’m sure you almost tore your hair out because of how he kept making ‘seemingly stupid’ decisions.

Don’t worry, my story is not nearly as graphic or triggering but I was extremely stupid and to understand why I was that stupid, you need to understand how I grew up.

As the first child and daughter of strict muslim parents, I was very sheltered. In secondary school, I was not allowed to go out with friends, I was not allowed to go to the movies very often, my father took me to school and dropped me at home so there was no time to mingle much after school. On weekends, I went to Arabic school and boys? Well, boys were solidly out of the equation.

I was 15 when I first talked about wanting a boyfriend. My father had just come back from Mecca so he put me in his car, wound up the windows and screamed at me so much, I thought the glass was going to crack.

In the car that day, I was convinced I was going to be the muslim version of a nun because what’s all this? Ordinary boyfriend I say I want. All this wahala.

When it was time to talk about sex, my dad told me if I ever had sex outside of marriage, he was going to kill me, kill the man and kill himself. Quite graphic for a teenager but you could not blame him, the thought of his 15 year old daughter pregnant could kill the man.

We were not wealthy but my mother made sure we went to the best schools my parents could afford. So when it was time to go to uni, my father handed me over to his colleague who was going to India to study Occupational Therapy. 

That’s how I became an international student in India at 18.

But it was the same year I arrived in India that a girl was gang-raped and brutally raped with an iron rod until she died. The story went international and my parents seriously considered bringing me back to Nigeria but my dad’s colleague promised to keep me safe and so, I remained in India.

As a good muslim girl, I lived by the book. I never partied, I was a straight A student, did all my assignments on time, didn’t smoke, drink or have sex. I played by the rules but here’s the thing about life, no matter how much your parents shelter you, life will bring its test and you will have to face it, alone.

Two years into my studies in India, life brought my test. 

I was 20.

I had been selected for a scholarship in Germany and I had to travel outside of the state for my visa interview. I went with two girls and one guy from my uni who had also been awarded the same scholarship. For the purpose of this story, let’s call the guy Adithya*

It was while waiting for my interview that I met a man. He kept staring at me. He looked nice, well-put together and was sitting opposite me. He smiled at me and I smiled back. He waved and I waved back. He soon came to sit next to me and we started talking. 

He said all the right things and I promise, I had already decided I was going to keep in touch with this man.

He went in for his interview first, then my crew went in and I went last but he waited for me until I finished. I thought that was so cute (aw). I was so foolish.

After my interview, he told me he had been waiting and he’d like to take me to lunch and hear more about Nigeria.

If I had sense, I would have known this was a ploy but in my head, I thought I was the honourable minister of information so I went along to tell this man all about Nigeria.

But Adithya followed.

As I bit into my chicken Tikka, Adithya stared at us from a seat not far off. 

Now, I hated Adithya. Completely. I think he was put on earth to make my life a living hell. Adithya was one of the people who was unbelievably racist to me in India. Before Google dark mode came, Adithya once asked that if I opened google, was it black?

Adithya always came up with the most racist things to say and so there was no end to my hatred for him.

When the man told me to tell Adithya to leave us, I said no because I wanted Adithya to see that I was desirable. Let him see me sink my teeth into the chicken tikka he can obviously not afford as the only thing on his table was a 10 rupee lemon drink.

Broke ass racist.

But as I grew older, I realised that Adithya was mean but he wasn’t evil and there are some evils that even mean people are scared of. I think Adithya was scared for me.

After eating, the nice man asked me to come see his hotel. I said okay. I think he was taken aback at how easily I said yes because I saw him blink like “did this idiot really say yes?” LMAO

But in my head, it made perfect sense. I had eaten and it would be nice to sleep. 

This is where you say Hauwa are you stupid?

I was.

Like I explained earlier, I was sheltered. My parents told me all the things to do but didn’t let me make decisions and when it was time for life to test me, I failed.

Anyway, I said yes, the man paid and I was ready to go but then came fucking Adithya.

He came to our table and said I was not going with my nice man. I told him to get out of my front but he said if I went, he’d tell the school (they knew I was here for my visa application) and my German scholarship will be rescinded. Furthermore, a letter would be sent to my parents.

Side note: A physical letter had already been sent to my parents all the way from India to Nigeria stating that I had faulted the hostel curfew. (Why they chose to be dramatic and send a physical letter, I would never know). Anyway, it was because I got to the hostel at 11am when our curfew was 10. My mum gave me an earful that day and I could not risk another letter being sent home.

So I grudgingly went back with Adithya. He didn’t even let me exchange number with the nice man.

The nice man was angry that I ate his chicken tikka and that I even ordered second plate. Me too I was sorry but there was no way I was going to pay him back. I didn’t have money like that. So I said sorry and left with Adithya.

Please don’t be angry sah

But I hated him. Oh how I hated Adithya. The hate grew exponentially. Adithya stopped making racist comments because of kind of death stares I gave him.

Eventually, all four of us got our visas and left to Germany.

In April, three months into my stay in Germany, a broadcast message was sent to a group I was on. Another woman had been gang-raped in India. I casually browsed through it because at this point, it was a regular occurrence.

I was about to close the message when I stopped dead. There was my nice man. He was one of the rapists.

I sat on my bed, immobile for a few minutes.

The food, the hotel, him telling Adithya to leave us alone, him waiting for me to finish my interview. It all came back.

I stayed in my room all day before I dragged myself to our communal kitchen. Adithya and I exchanged a look. He didn’t say anything but somehow, he knew.

He asked me if I wanted some chicken biryani.

I said yes.

It’s this food sha.

And as he put the plate down in front of me, he said when God was spray painting me black, he told me to hold a bar in front of me and that’s why my palms are not black.

I didn’t give him the usual death stare.

I still hate the motherfucker but in that moment, I was so grateful for him.

The next time, I was almost raped is not as funny as this one and I escape by the skin of my teeth and I didn’t have an Adithya. I don’t think I’d ever talk about that one but I know not every woman is as lucky as I was.

It is estimated that approximately 35% of women worldwide have experienced sexual harassment. The number of rape incidents in India in per 100,000 citizens is 22,172 as of 2020. In Nigeria, it was found that 24.8% of females’ aged 18 to 24 years has experienced sexual abuse of which 5.0% sought help, with only 3.5% receiving any services.

You can increase the number of women who have access to help by donating to foundations like WARIF (Women at Risk International Foundation). Even if it is N500 you can donate, please do.

I don’t know why I chose to tell this story today but anyway, toodles!

Till I write to you again.

Hauwa.

(And no, this post is not sponsored)