I am an Angry Woman!

• Sirka AmaamboI am an angry black woman because now I will hold onto my handbag much tighter every time a young black man walks near me. Now, I will look over my shoulder every time a black man is close by to make sure I can still get away if he attacks me. It has nothing to do with race, so please don’t get it twisted.

I am angry because when I was attacked in public, slammed onto a pavement and had a thief sitting on top of me, fighting for my phone. Apart from my friend, those around me didn’t come to my aid.

“We thought it was a guy beating up his girlfriend,” they said. Is that reason enough to watch someone being attacked on the street and do nothing? I am angry because a car packed with fellow women watched me being attacked on the pavement next to their car and they didn’t even hoot or get out to scream for help.

“You are really brave,” they said after I fought and screamed my lungs out. What does that even mean? I am angry!

It was Saturday, 25 January, like any other when I decided to go out with friends. It started pretty slow with not much to do around town. After watching the movie ‘Of Good Report’ at the Goethe Centre, my friends and I decided to go out for dinner.

Throughout the evening, at no point did I stop to think that I might get mugged. When in the company of men, I think many of us find ourselves feeling safe. On our way out of the establishment, we each walked to our cars. As is custom among the group, you wait until the person parked the furthest gets into their vehicle and starts it before you proceed.

While waiting, there are usually car guards around trying to squeeze the last few coins out of you, to pay them for standing 100 metres away from your car for the most part of the evening and swearing their lives on having kept your car safe.

A young man on his phone walked passed us and all I heard was “hulle is al weg” – (they are already gone) in Afrikaans. He looked clean enough in his khaki shorts and blue shirt. He walked ahead and disappeared and my companion and I paid him no attention. My phone made a sound and I took it out to read the message. With my handbag in my left hand and phone in the right, I stopped at the car.

I opened the passenger door and was about to climb in when I suddenly felt a nudge behind me. A second later, the person started tugging at my phone in my hand. I pulled back and he pulled the phone and my hand towards him. The only question on my mind was ‘what the hell is happening?’

My companion, who was already halfway in the car didn’t see that there was something wrong at the time. The young man in the khaki shorts and blue shirt, realising that he has met a tough cookie decided to be a wrestler and slam dunk my body onto the hard concrete pavement.

I fell with a thud while still holding onto my phone. Still, fear was the furthest thing from my mind and like Optimus in ‘Transformers’, I went into defence mode. I started screaming for what felt like eternity.

While this guy sat on my chest holding onto my phone as if he was part owner and me screaming my lungs out under him, I could see from the corner of my eye as people watched in awe, perhaps, or entertainment.

I was not afraid of him and we continued fighting for what felt like an eternity. My companion somehow made his way around the vehicle and pushed or punched the attacker from behind. He lost his grip on my phone and during that split second, I took the decision to throw the phone in the air and over the vehicle. The phone landed in the road. On the left, I could see young men standing watching me scream. For the life of me I couldn’t get myself to scream any words.

The idea was just to make noise and attract attention. My companion got in a scuffle with the assailant and they both stumbled. The thief, realising that I didn’t have the phone anymore, decided to come for my handbag which now lay under my body.

As if hesitating slightly, he reached for my handbag and I kicked out at him. My companion was also back on his feet again and on him. At that point, the assailant threw in the towel and took off and went to stand in the middle of the road.

I thought to myself ‘what the hell just happened?’ My companion started chasing after him and to fend him off, the assailant took out his knife to let him know that he is willing to draw blood.

People still stood in awe and at a safe distance. When they realised what was happening, they started coming closer.

I asked why they didn’t rush to my aid and they said, “we thought it was your boyfriend beating you.”

What? Are you serious? I thought if you come across a woman being attacked by a man in public anywhere, it is common practice to come to her aid. Apparently that is not the case.

After realising that more and more people were gathering around us, and having lost hope of getting his hands on any of my belongings, he took off into the dark. The car guard and security guard from a club nearby took chase but they lost him. Surely he went into one of the bars we thought.

How many barefoot young men in shorts will be in those establishments?

We tried calling the City Police number 061 302302 but payday plus alcohol equals a busy City Police phone line and we couldn’t get through. We then decided to drive to the police station head office to report the matter. The police informed us that all the police officers were out in the field and those at the station did not have access to a car. They are also not allowed to get into civilian cars.

This is less than three months after I sang Namibian Police’s praise for tracking down the thief who stole my phone from my office. We drove back to the scene to buy a bag of ice for my companion who, during the fight, scraped his arm and had swollen fingers.

You always hear advice that if someone attacks you for your phone or handbag, you are supposed to give it and not fight for it. Easier said than done. There is no saying how you will react once in the situation.

I’m still seeing images of myself lying under the thief screaming. Maybe I should’ve just let him take the phone. But I don’t go to a 09h00 to 17h00 job just for someone to feel I owe them a cut of my earnings. Maybe I should’ve tried to punch him in the nose as he sat on me but what if I would’ve missed? He also could’ve stabbed me but he didn’t.

The men who watched because they thought it was a domestic tussle leave me feeling sad. Someone could potentially attack and kill you in public and people will just watch.

So a little advice to the men out there. If I look great, got my hair and nails done and put on my best heels and outfit, and then you see someone slamming me on the ground on a pavement in public, and I’m screaming, chances are I’m not having fun so come and help!

And to the ladies, always be alert. Put that phone in your bra, in your pocket and hold on tight to your bag.

Wear your heels, imagine being on a runway, but when someone attacks you, be prepared to scream, run in heels like Usain Bolt and fight for your life if you have to because chances are, the strangers around you will just watch and do nothing! We don’t want a nation full of angry women but it might be just be what we need.

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