This is a story of survival…
It was a typical day in my village…
At the break of dawn, I and my siblings had to wake up and tend to the fields and fetch water from the river. I wasn’t particularly fond of the fields it was hot and humid and I hated the river the most it was filled to the brim with crocodiles and other dangerous animals of the wild, with the sun beating down on my already scorched back. But what we were most afraid of were the pale men that look like the cassava powder we pound every day. We were afraid of them because they seemed like aliens from another world. They always came to our village collecting food and our men. My father told it’s nothing that concerns a woman and I didn’t question it out of respect.
On this day though something was off, rumors were spreading that the war was getting closer and closer to our village and the men that rebelled against the government were taking away girls and little boys in order to fill their ranks. I was not scared after all they said they only went for beautiful girls. I was not beautiful, my mother told me so on countless occasions. Even the men in my village always went for my sisters and never even looked in my direction. I wasn’t worried though, I had the strength of a man and a sharp tongue, I was proud of it. I am my father’s daughter after all.
While his sons were either on the side of the powdered men and the rebels. I became the son he wished he had by his side… it seems sad but I loved it. Anything to keep me out of those godforsaken fields and into the shady shack that is my father’s workshop that created the most basic of furniture. Today I was not so lucky because we needed extra hands on the field due to my sister being sick. I was weeding when the first shot rang out then multiple were heard with men howling, shouting and making war cries. They were merely passing by probably on their way to war again. Young boys from 10 upwards, were equipped with katanas and machine guns howling and doing sexual gestures towards the girls on the field.
It didn’t seem like their purpose was women because they kept driving on. I didn’t bother looking up from my weeding. I stood up and cracked by back in place and I noticed a car stopped abruptly and a man climbed out. He was beautiful, skin a dark nutmeg, sunglasses covering his eyes. His attire completely militant. He looked around the field and started trampling like a giant through the field. I was getting irritated that he was ruining a good harvest. My eyes narrowed further when he stopped a foot away from me and proceeded to piss on my basket of corn. I knew it was suicide to do something so I just kept my eyes narrowed.
By now everyone was huddled together and slowly inching away from him. I stood my ground though. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by someone that threatened our livelihood for his piss break. He looked up directly at me. His eyebrow arched as he looked directly at me. That was when I knew I was in trouble. Fear crept in slowly and I looked towards my mother who was already running towards me. Shouting out my name, I knew and she knew I have caught his interest. I looked towards her again and I mouthed a goodbye. Suddenly I was jerked forward and he told me I would do nicely. And he shouted at his men to take ten of their pick and to leave the rest. It was chaos, girls started screaming and struggling all of them running into the jungle to try and get away from the rebels. I didn’t bother fighting him but I knew I wouldn’t make it easy for him to break him. My mother was too old to take but she begged for my release. She knew my father won’t be able to handle another child being taken whether it is the powdered men or these rebels. Was the no difference between them? Both were men both were savages when taking women for their pleasures…but I was A WOMAN, I will not submit to these oppressors. Whether it be our own brothers, fathers, uncles, and husbands that vowed to protect us that
My name is Magdalena
This is based on a true story on account of a Congolese woman.
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