I remember it like it was yesterday. The experience was one of the most satisfying I’ve had. My palm connecting to his face; it rang of justice I tell you.
I am one of the thousands of minibus travellers. I’ve got a bit of patience, but when it’s severely tried, I’ve got a terrible temper. Now, I have nothing against minibus drivers – I’ve got friends and relatives in the profession – but some of them have got a few annoying traits.
Now, this incident happened a few years ago. It was August. It was hot. And I was late for class that afternoon. I refused to get in one of those nasty ‘corkballs’ — you know, those slow old buses — so I stopped the next ‘boom-boom’ – the shine buses with loud music.
The ‘boom-boom’ I stopped was packed and I was lucky to get a seat in front right next the driver.
So as we were cruising along I felt it for the first time; a slight pressure against my right thigh. I was wearing my favourite jeans so I wasn’t too sure I’d felt something.
However, the third time I felt that light pressure against my thigh I knew something was up. So I looked down at my thigh and I saw the driver’s hard-looking hand on the gear stick. I watched as he changed gears and as that hand glided closer to my thigh then brushed it.
Initially I was shocked. Then wryly amused at the tactic he was using to cop a feel. I decided to end it without a scene and slid closer to the woman on my other side. She grumbled, shifted her body and the touching stopped — for a bit.
Two minutes later I felt the pressure again and I knew for a fact the man knew exactly what he was doing. I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. So I decided to be bold and I looked at the driver told him he was grazing my thigh and I wasn’t comfortable with it. A few minutes later he did it again, and had the nerve to look over at me and smile.
Should I have made him pull over at the next police station? This is a question I’ve asked myself many times since then.
His smile cut the last string holding my anger in check and that was the end of the road for him. I let out a string of profanities no young woman should know and demanded that he stop the bus. After I shouted clearly to the other passengers what he’d been doing, the driver finally pulled over. And guess what? He denied ever touching my thigh.
Ha! Well that day I was in luck. There were two other women in the back who’d had similar experiences with the same driver and that was the end of him! They promptly called him a liar and every passenger joined me on the road to get another bus.
At that point I was satisfied that his nasty hand would no longer be next to my thigh but he wanted to have the last word. So he – this stranger I’d never seen – called me a “lying tease”, those were his exact words.
Now, despite the fact that I am a young woman who knows all the profanities in this world, I demand the same respect I show most people. This minibus driver had overstepped the line one too many times that afternoon and my temper could take no more.
Without thinking, I swung my hand and give him a good, hard slap then for emphasis I stomped his toes. Thank goodness he was too shocked to retaliate and I had the support of all the other passengers. But I’m sorry now that back then I didn’t fight like I do now. These days I can throw punches and use my knees in a way that can make a man long for unconsciousness – I have learnt self-defence.
I still remember it like it was yesterday. Today, I still travel with minibuses – though not as often and I never sit next to the driver! (srh.midnight@gmail.com)