In this story, a 17-year-old survivor of sexual assault, from a village in the Ségou region, decides to confide, three years after the tragedy. Today, she remembers the attack as if it were yesterday and feels only disgust towards men.
“I am KK (not my real name), Bamanan from a conservative family in Ségou. When I was barely 15, just a year after I started seeing my period, I was raped by my cousin, my mother’s sister’s son, in complicity with his friends. It was three years ago, September 22.
I was back from Mali Independence Day which our village celebrates every year. That day, around 10 p.m., I left the public square of the village, the place where almost all the festivities of the ceremony were held. After hours of dancing to the rhythm of tam-tams and N’Bôlon, I had to go home under the order of my mother, who never sleeps until I come home. So I left with regret my comrades who were still there to attend the festivities.
On my way home, I didn’t meet anyone, that evening everyone was attending the festivities.
While walking on the way to the house, I heard a noise behind me, I turned around, but there was no one. Worried, I continued on my way, walking quickly. It was dark and the moon was clear that evening. Suddenly, my cousin Bakary (not his real name) and his two friends appeared in front of me. Suddenly, without them speaking to me, his friends took me like a bag of millet. And my cousin followed us without saying a word. They took me by force to an abandoned hut nearby. I defended myself by shaking them but they were stronger than me. I couldn’t scream because they put their hands over my mouth.
To my great surprise, they undressed me, despite the attempts to free me and my pleas.
One held my two arms and the other my two legs. My cousin was between my thighs. I was trying to scream and was constantly whining. My cousin Bakary put tape on my mouth. He raped me for half an hour, without thinking that we are from the same family. His two friends held me down and watched the scene. They encouraged him: Get there before the effects of the drugs wear off. »
That day, I lost something very important: my virginity.
According to the “tradition”, the girl must preserve herself until the day of her marriage. She should not have sex before marriage (the woman should only have sex with one man: her husband). Losing her virginity before marriage is a dishonor not only for the young girl but also for her family. If it is known that the young girl is not a virgin, her future is compromised: no family will want her as a daughter-in-law.
After this act, my cousin and his friends abandoned me and left. Despite the pain that weighed on my body, I somehow managed to get back home in the night.
My mother was, as always, sitting under the shed waiting for me. She put her hands over her mouth when she saw me coming, I told her everything. My father was sleeping.
Weeping woman, credit Pablo via Iwaria
The next morning, the news spread through the village like wildfire. My cousin’s two friends have spread the rumor that they saw me last night with a boy from the neighboring village, frolicking in an abandoned house. My mother, to whom I had told everything believed me, we filed a complaint, investigations were carried out by the local authorities on my cousin, in order to shed light on what had happened. It took time. Also, the village doctors refused to consult me, so the intervention of the local authorities was necessary. Eventually, it was officially established that my genitalia had been affected. After the consultation, the health personnel revealed that I had become pregnant. You cannot imagine how I felt at that moment. I was in the hospital, I fainted.
The problem is that I was already promised to another cousin who lived in the capital. Following the investigations, my cousin from the village was accused of being the aggressor, the author of the rape that I suffered.
But just like me, you know what family relationships are…. in the village the parents value their fraternity, they do not want a split or scandal in the family. The watchword in these cases: the case must not go to court before a judge, dirty laundry should be washed as a family.
I was sent in a state of unwanted pregnancy to my aunt (my father’s older sister), who lives in Bamako. The goal was that over time, the villagers would forget. Without thinking about what I might be feeling at that moment, without thinking about my pain, without considering my personal distress. In Mali, what “one will say” counts more than the distress of the assaulted women.
Nine months later, I gave birth to a baby girl, named Mata (name of my late paternal grandmother). Today I am 20 years old and Mata is 2 years old. She looks like her father. When I see her, I can’t help but think of the night of the rape. My cousin in the capital, the one to whom I was promised, has given up on our future union. While my cousin from the village, the one who raped me, got married, he had children. Me, the only time I had sex was the night of my attack, with my cousin Bakary. I remember the rape perfectly, it’s very painful to think about.
At this time, when a man says a simple “hello” to me, I don’t want to answer, men seem monstrous to me, I feel disgust, I don’t want privacy. I concentrate on my work. I am involved in an NGO that deals with the holistic care of survivors of violence. It is useful and important work, there is a lot to do among women in Mali. »
This post was produced as part of the project “ She Leads » of the AJCAD-Mali.