The Hard Truth

Trigger warning: This post talks about sexual assault and how it affects people in my community, mostly with relevance to children.

Have you ever watched a documentary or heard a random fact about something in your everyday life and suddenly you can’t see anything the same way. Be it from something like how many germs or on the human hand at any given moment, the amount of fecal matter on money (can you tell I work in the health sector?) etc. Anyway, you get my point. Something that opens your eyes, and there is no turning back, and even when you don’t want to see it or think about it, it’s still there, ever present.

That has been this year and my awareness of sexual harassment and assault here in country.

Anyone who has read my blog up until this point is probably aware of the amount of sexual harassment I receive on the daily, as it is one of my chief complaints.  I recently made a facebook status about me creeper school director getting fired. I was so excited! But then the following week I went into the Superintendent’s office where I do a lot of work on random afternoons and there he was. He now works in my office. From the skillet to the fire.  

In a moment or rage and tears I spoke to my host mom about the situation. Feeling completely defeated and deflated. During the course of the conversation she casually mentions that I am not the only girl or woman to feel this way about him. My interest piqued I ask what that means. She then spent the next 45 minutes explaining his transgressions against girls and women in the community. Prior to being the director of the school he was a teacher, and she told me a story where he sexually assaulted his practicante (student teacher) every day after school. The best part, people knew. No one did anything. The girl considered dropping out of the program but her mom wouldn’t let her even though she knew what was happening, insisting that what was happening was only temporary. The girl ended up marrying one of the town drunkards for protection, which host mom says actually worked…the only bad thing being that the girl was 16, a victim of sexual abuse, and now married to a bolo. When I asked my host mom how she knew all about this she explained because the girl is my host cousin. I thought about that quote about everyone fighting a battle no one else knows about. 

The next day I went to one of my favorite teacher’s house to take come coffee and bread. She is a teacher at the (former) creepy director’s school (we will call him FC from now on).  I casually mention FC and not knowing that he was getting kicked out and asked about who his replacement was to be, knowing that the chismosa (gossiper) side would run with it. She tells me about the former student teacher, a physical altercation she had between herself and FC…then she mentions the string of girls he molested. I wish I could explain the way she said it. Like his list of offenses were nothing more than her grocery list. This really struck me, but I later learned it’s because it happens so often here that everyone is desensitized to such an extreme that it’s not worth mentioning.

I also found out that the Padres de Familia (PTA) went to the superintendent demanding that he be kicked out of my town. The CTA (superintendent/my worker partner) decided to fire him as director, but gave him a job in his office. Why you ask? With the mountain of evidence against him, the girls, the fighting, everything. Because he’s his cousin. Fucking. Nepotism. 

After talking with several friends and asking around, I have learned that sexual abuse against children is not just a problem in my community. In a nearby town I recently learned that someone got a young boy drunk, sexually assaulted him and left him on the side or the road. Again, people in the community knows who the perpetrator is and does nothing to bring about justice, but rather protects him.

There also are no NGOs working with sexual abuse victims here, so outside help is not an option. 

So, at the end of the day we are left fighting a broken system in a place who doesn't acknowledge a problem, with our hands tied behind our backs.