Modupe in 1978

Defend Yourself; It is not a Crime

I entered puberty, much faster than the girls in my age range. This early development also meant that I was very aware of what could happen if I allowed certain alliances, so I kept my circle small and minded my business where I was. I had adequately dealt with the boys on my level, and they no longer posed a threat. But sometimes, randy men would try to take advantage of me in the community.

One day, I was on my way back from fetching water when I was waylaid by an older man who in the guise of teasing and playing with me, stood in my path. This was just a few metres from my father’s house
My hands were holding on to the metal bowl on my head so I could only try to walk around him. He kept teasing and laughing, but I was tired and really wanted to get home. I successfully side-stepped him, balancing the water on my head. He seemed angry, but I really could care less, so I attempted to press on.
Enraged, he grabbed me by the chest and asked what I was going to do now.

This was an older, more respected and well-to-do man in the town. If anything happened, it would be his word against mine. But I was so furious I did not think. Neither did I remember that he was not as young as the other men I had put in their place. I furiously flung my metal bowl from my head towards him, injuring and drenching him with all the water in my bowl. He was shocked.

He had tried to harass me because he thought I would be immobilized from carrying the water! This was completely unacceptable to me. Why should I have been treated like that?!

His shocked expression was priceless and in retrospect, hilarious. His shock also gave me an advantage over him as I began to wallop him with my bowl. I dragged him with my other hand and gave him a sound beating as though he were a child. He was still dazed from the first hit and so his attempts to dodge my blows were not effective. I beat him to my hearts content and when I was done, I picked up my balancing cloth (osuka) and walked home without my water.

The following morning, I spotted a delegation of himself and a few of his friends walking to our house to report me to my father. He had a huge bump on his forehead, small, bloody scratches on his body, and a large cut on his lip. He looked thoroughly beaten.

I do not know what they told my father but a few minutes later, I was summoned by my father to the front of the house. In my father’s hand was a cane swinging threateningly.

Just before my father could start administering my punishment for hitting him, the elderly man whose house was beside ours strolled into our front yard and told my father not to beat me. He explained that he had been sitting up on the balcony of his one-storey building when he witnessed the altercation between me and the fully chastised man. He told my father exactly what happened and that saved me from an unfair punishment.

The randy man and his friends?

They were booed out of our compound.

I learnt a lesson that day, ‘There is no crime in defending yourself.’