Don’t Touch Me

Don’t Touch Me

‘I no like this your touching body, coz you know sey my mama no like am’.

Thats one of the dumbest lines I have heard in a song. But it somewhat explains my feelings.

Am I the only one that finds someone touching your body offensive?
Like touching…Just touching.
If you want my attention. Call my name, or you can use ‘lady, girl, woman, heyys,’ whatever.
Just don’t touch me!

Reminds me of my trip to Cotonou, The biggest city in Benin Republic. It was to buy some stuffs for Sallah.
Usually, I would take a taxi from the boader down to the market. But on this day, I was feeling adventurous. I deceided to hop on the public transport.
It was a mini van with about 12 passengers. They took turns to steal glances at me. Yeahh, I looked ‘parfait’.

Ten mintues into the journey, the guy that sat close to me started sawying his hands and tapping his feet while humming some tone. I thought he was pressed or something. Not long, his hand was on my lap, he moved it to & fro for some seconds then he stopped. Adjusted his gaze back to his phone.

My mind was very quick to register the touch as ‘sexual harrassment’ and trust me to be swiftly defensive.
I turned to look at this guy. I wasn’t even pissed at his adject black skin (Thats okay, we are people of colour). But his clothes, his choice of dressing. He had on a native attire, with some red boot that looked like a farm tool. Ohh…I was disgusted. ( This is me feeling better than him or his country).

‘Tuai!’ was the next sound I heard.
Everyone turned to look at us……no, Me!
I felt the muscle in my hands cringe. My left hand was held up close to the man’s cheek.

‘Oh my God!’ I slapped him. ‘Oh my God, I slapped him!’. This was my mind racing, My heart freezing, My bladder filling.

But my mouth…my mouth. With the sassiest smirk on my face, my mouth said…
‘what? he touched me!’

The guy…(still holding his cheeks), told the driver something. Just like everyone in the bus told eachother something.
‘Something’ because I didn’t understand what they were saying. They spoke in French!
Soon after, they were all calm.

I felt relieved that the guy didn’t react. Honestly, It was like everyone forgot about the slap.
Under my breath I praised God.
‘I know this is you, I know you erased this people’s memory, I never believed in miracles but today, I saw it. Thank you Lord’.

My prayer was soon cut short though. When I felt a hand drag me. The bus had stopped now. We were in front of a building…looked like a police station.

The guy I slapped dragged me, I was struggling, kicking, wailing
‘Leave me alone! Leave me alone!
I’m a Nigerian, don’t fuck with me!’

Behind us, all the passengers in the bus followed. Pointing and saying, God knows what.

We got to the counter, they explained what happened (I suppose). They were speaking in French. The Officers, which I later learnt they call ‘Jandanmarines’ would occasionally turn to eye at me. They gave me that ‘you don die today’ look.

‘Scared’ was an understatement of the emotion I felt at that moment.

One of the officers came close to me, he said…
‘What happened?’.

You should have seen the sparkle in my eyes at that moment. I almost hugged him!. Finally….English! English!

‘He touched me, so I slapped him’. I replied.

‘He touched you, so you slapped him’ He repeated.

‘Yeah, thats what happened.

Without another word, he flicked his hands to the junior officer, flucked his head from me to the cell. (That was a message to the officer).

The next thing, the junior officer collected my bag & dragged me into the cell.

I immediately realised it wasn’t a joke anymore. I went on my knees and started begging.
‘Please, I beg you sir, ‘please, I will never try it again. Please I beg you’

They didn’t even move their heads. I sat down to recall all the French Mrs Akeusola had taught me in Junior School. After about an hour, I started again,

‘Monsieur pourqui! Je suis, J’taime, Je tort, je m’appelle Amina, Quelle est la date aujourd’hui,

I didn’t care what they meant, I just needed something to charm them. Something to get out of this mess!.

They all started laughing!

The junior office replied
‘C’est aujourd’hui mercredi le 1 juin, 2009

They all started laughing.

Some minutes before 7pm. They opened the cell…..I walked to the counter & the man was still there. Yes, the one I slapped.

Ugh, I felt like slapping him again. Infact, throwing him inside the cell!

The Officer brought out my purse, opened it, removed 30,000 Franc and handed it to the man.

‘Are you kidding me’ I said in a low voice.

‘Its for damages. The officer replied.
He threw my bag at me & pointed at the door.

I learnt one lesson that day, treat people with respect regardless of race, staus, skin colour.

At the same time, I haven’t stopped thinking. Did I overreact? What extent of touch do you register as sexual harassment?

9 thoughts on “Don’t Touch Me” by AminahBlack (@Amina-Jibril)

  1. I’m just curious, is this really fiction or it actually happened?

    1. Its entirely fiction, Namdi.

  2. Hahahahaha….

    The price for slap in Francophone countries is Cfa10,000 for each finger. They pity you to have collected only Cfa30,000!
    Those people still have human right and they believe that the police is the voice of the downtrodden. Had it been you reported the man to the police for ‘sexual harassment’, he’d be the one to pay you.

    However, I enjoyed this because I’ve seen such a scene played out in Lome.

    The word is ‘Gandanmarines’ for arms men in Togo.

    Nice write

    1. Thats true Chime. Thank you for reading.

  3. Pay for which damages? slap! I guess the man and the other passanger must have passed a wrong message since you dont understand French. Experience is always the best teacher. Once bitten, twice shy!

  4. Lol, I wouldn’t mind a woman touching me though…as long as she isn’t an assassin…lol, jst kidding.
    It’s a pity she wasn’t treated fairly…I do like it that way though, wise men know why they sing always, “Be slow to anger”

    Well done.

  5. This is hilarious, especially the “speaking French part.” I don’t mind being touched, especially in public transport where it is simply inevitable, except the person is obviously dirty or something. Then I would try to move away as subtly as possible. It’s never a good idea to start a quarrel where you don’t speak the language but I’m guessing it won’t happen again. Lol.

  6. He he he he he he he he! Touch of life!

  7. thank God this is fiction. But the truth is that I absolutely hate being touched by someone I don’t know. And here in our Nigeria, people don’t seem to understand the concept of personal space. I was in a bank queue once and kept enough space between me and the person in front of me, but the woman behind me kept bumping into me. I would shift slightly out of line and she would still bump into me. I had to call her out on it and people were aggressive. It’s just a queue, lady and you are not spending the rest of the day here, are you? were the queries I got.
    Still don’t enjoy it, though…

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