The cry of a refugee girl…

When it came to choosing who has to be educated over the other, you said my young brother deserves more education than me. “After all he is a boy anyway and there a lot of house-chores to be done at home…” that’s the excuse you gave under the banner of cultural/tribal values… I was a nice girl, this time around, I will say, a nice sister, “I’ll let him go to school”, I gave in…

When running my home-country you systematically and structurally kicked me out of politics. You love it dirty and you know I’ve always wanted fairness and peace. These qualities aren’t the ones which you want in politics…”Woman, politics wasn’t made for girls!”…I one the other side also kinda felt “It’s dirty anyway, I’d rather get my hands dirty with laundry than this man’s business”

When your dirty politics produces conflicts, I shouted out loud for mediation, but you said you wanted to be a “man” and fight…”Please darling, could you guys resolve this peacefully?”, you responded with a fierce voice “WOMAN get out of this!!!”. I unwillingly got out of it, but when war came you forced me back into it; gang-raped me and infected me with HIV/AIDS in the process…It’s not only gang-raping, you killed me or left me at least without one part of the body…I’m no longer the kind of a girl you desire in a society, now HIV positive, disabled if not infertile, it’s not my rapist, did I say rapist? Oh no I meant rapists, so yeah it’s not my rapists who are going to be blamed, it’s me, it has always been me who get blamed…

Now while bleeding, and no hospital and no doctor to take care of my wounds, I also show the “woman” in me, I ran into the bush, used leaves, you never sent me to school or at least enough school, but remember I can do anything than you think I can, I treated myself in the bush with whatever resources available in there and ran for dear life…

On my way running for refuge I found other little girls, ouch !!! I thought you were doing this only to older women !!! …When you run away from war, you take with you your diplomas, your credit cards, but I’ve always been a mom and I’ll take these ones with me…

Upon entering the refugee camp, your friends of the same sex and sad enough even my friends complain I’m bringing too many with me in the camp…When in the camp, you’re given a big space and I, a woman, is given little space. Whenever you’re bored and want to fight, you walk into my compound and take another piece of my land…When I run to the police before I even reach them “there comes that WOMAN again, they say, what is it again WOMAN?”, the sound of their voice tells me they’re tired of me creating sorrows…Before I finish my case, another woman ran into the office, bleeding, with bruises on her face and a MAN, she calls her husband is after her with an instrument in his hands….My case is too little for that, I give space and go home, and wait until the serious case is dealt with…Something else happens to me, now I’ve two cases to present, so I just drop the first one and let you win that one, it seems like you’re always winning…

It’s very unsafe in this camp mostly for me, I’m always the one suffering the most or you’re always making me suffer the most…This host country doesn’t wanna intergrate me unless I’m to ‘sell’ myself to their men under the banner of mariage…When it comes to resettlement, the resettlement country wants me very educated and preferably HIV-, see what that means? You denied me education and here you are asking it from me...You gang-raped me and left me HIV negative, here you are trying to make me perform a miracle of removing this disease in me…I’ll let you go and will remain in this camp…

The insult becomes you get resettled ahead of me and now want to propose to me for marriage to join you wherever you are...You sound so soft this time, I don’t hear that “man” voice again…And when you say “Would you marry me”, you don’t sound like that ‘man’ you say you are…”Hmmm, I think I’m in love with you and will come join you there, maybe this’ the end of the struggle of a refugee girl…”. Unfortunately not, I come here, eventhough there is a strong insistence on human rights, I continue to silently being the victim…the power of love conquers me and keeps my mouth shut…This isn’t the end of my cry, it will end when you stop and completely STOP…I want this stopped structurally, systematically, politically, socially, economically and stop using the Holy Book to perpetuate this…He, the Husband, died on the cross for His bride, but you’re apparently putting me on the Cross…