Three women, three stories

8th March 2016 was the international day for women. Is this a day for celebration or a day to take stock? A day to reflect on how we can change perceptions, attitudes and mentalities in a patriarchal society to make Mauritius a better place for all its citizens. On this special day let us remember all these women who have been through hell in the hands of people close to them. Some are still suffering from psychological, emotional and physical violence while others are in their tombs. As a gender activist I have talked to quite a few victims. Their stories still make me shiver. Stories that keep on reminding me that we are doing too little too late.

“My Nani sold me”

“My Nani (grandmother) sold me.” I believed her as she looked so fragile. Our elders used to symbolically sell sick babies for one rupee to a neighbour or relative thinking that the babies will get back their health. But when Rita* went on with her story, I nearly dropped from my seat. “There was nothing I could do when this old man came to the house and raped me every night. One day I could not bear it anymore and went to see my neighbour. She accompanied me to the police. The police phoned the Child Protection Unit and I was put in a shelter.” This is where I met her. Rita was sent to her Nani as her mother could not feed her. I still cannot comprehend how a grandmother could force her granddaughter to get raped so that she could make money from the flesh of that 11 year old girl. Rita was luckier than Stacey Henrisson as she did not go to the police on her own.

“I was raped by my father”

“I was seven months old when my father went to prison. When he came back home I was over 10 years and excited that he would catch up with all the love that I have missed during his absence. He raped me. I could not bear his continuous rape anymore and at the age of 12, I left the house and took to the streets. I was forced to do the most unimaginable and disgusting sexual acts. I was treated like an animal. The situation was worse when I got my clients through pimps. I got only half of my earnings. The work was even more difficult when clients stayed with me until the early morning. My friends encouraged me to take drugs so that I could cope. I did not even know that sharing needles could be fatal. Look at me! I am only 24 years old and I am HIV positive. I learnt about my HIV status in prison. I was jailed twice. One day I looked at myself in the mirror and could not understand how I could have let so many men used my young and fragile body. I was only 17. I was repelled with my own body. I turned away from the mirror, took a gallon of gasoline and poured it all over my body before lighting a match. I screamed with pain and walked in the street like a living torch. My mother who lived not too far wrapped me in a blanket and took me to hospital. After six months in a hospital bed, the doctor told me I was resurrected. After some time I met the most wonderful man who said he loved me even with all my burning scars.” When I met Mona* she was looking forward to give birth to her baby. But she said “ I do not know if my womb is not a coffin as I am HIV positive.” Mona gave birth to a healthy baby due to the good treatment of mother to child transmission. The last time I looked for Mona she was no more.

“My husband became violent”

“I was only 16 when my world turned upside down with the death of my mother. Soon after the funeral I had to pack all my educational materials and looked for a job. I got a job in a textile factory. I got married at the age of 21 and the place that I thought would be home was worse than a shack of corrugated iron sheets with no water and electricity. We slept on the floor as the furniture which was supposedly bought on hire purchase never arrived. I bought furniture with my own earnings. It did not take long for my husband to become violent. The beating was so bad that I lost my baby girl in hospital. After seven years I gave birth to a boy but the violence did not stop. It was so bad that I went to the police and obtained a protection order. But my husband went to the police too to say that I was beating him. He too got a protection order as well. I left the house with my son and stayed at SOS Femmes where I got all the legal, medical and psychological help. The last time I met Mimta* she was working as a cleaner in a four star hotel. Gender based violence is a complex social problem. Violence against women is pervasive and a widespread plague in Mauritius. If we want to save lives we must look at all aspects of the problems. Putting more severe legislation or more severe punishment without awareness campaigns and proper structures will be futile. On this International Women’s Day let us all make a pledge that we will join hands together to make Mauritius a better place to live.

*Not real names