Is it ever right to touch a young girl’s ‘boobs’ Sierra Leone Nov 2011
Recently, whilst in Sierra Leone, I was sheltering under a tin roofed shack with several dozen locals. The car had needed its brakes changing, urgently. Outside, the monsoon rains lashed onto the tin roofs and lightning and thunder reverberated all around. I was irritated, normal in Sierra Leone, this time because the ‘team’ had been using the vehicle as a taxi and had not maintained it so as soon as I arrived it needed repairs. Outside, the car was jacked up on one wheel, the mechanic laying on the ground, what was left of the laterite road now a veritable river. His assistant held a pink frilly umbrella over his head.
Inside, Abdul, our security- 6 ft 6 and mean, no one messes with Abdul, was sitting next to me and Kofi, an affable Ghanaiain, and head man of the village from which we operate, was sitting across the way from me. Next to him a couple of young girls, 12 maybe 13 years old were selling cakes from a tray on top of their heads. Kofi was seemingly chatting one of them up- he I about 50 yrs old and has, as far as we can ascertain, a number of wives. In my irritation, I was supposed to be somewhere ‘important’, I shouted out to Kofi as he was trying with a smile to extract the girls phone number, above the crashing thunder, ‘what are you doing Kofi, she is a child!’ he came back unperturbed that she was at least 17 years old and that this was how things are ‘done’ ‘in Africa’. But she is only 12 years old!, I said
Abdul, next to me, laughed. It is the way things work here, he said. Young girls prefer older men to ‘boys’ because they offer more security. In the dimness of the far corner was an old man with an austere expression, something like Khomeni might wear. Abdul shouted over to him. There is an old man from the country. Tell him what it’s like up country with the young girls. Instantly the old man’s countenance relaxed and he broke into a broad smile, everyone in the room laughed aloud, girls included.
At this point, and presumably to make the point, Abdul leaned over, cupped the young girls left boob into his large hand, squeezed and then announced to the whole room that she was at least 17 years old. The room again exploded into laughter, the young girl included. I moved subconsciously a few inches from Abdul lest the lightening flashing outside were to strike him down.
I bought cakes, shared them around and went outside to inspect the work. Miraculously the mechanic had not drowned and was on his third wheel. An older girl walked by, she could have been Naomi Campbell’s sister, with an even bigger tray on her head crammed with dried fish. She wore a flowing black wrap from her waist and the skimpiest of white tops which, she being drenched, hugged her body. From her top is was quite obvious that her body felt the monsoon rain to be very cold. As she walked by she smiled the smile that girls smile at men and that haunt them, men, all of their lives. The two little girls went by giggling and Kofi appeared looking very pleased with himself having secured the prized telephone number.
Is it ever right to squeeze a young girl’s breasts!?
