so I slapped him.

There are few days that go by that I do not get marriage proposals. Usually they come in the form of the men who work at the construction shop near my house yell “Hello, girl. I am fine. Take me home with you.” So romantic.

Usually I can shrug these things off. Its easy when its an annoying man yelling at me from a bar. I can yell something equally ridiculous and the whole bar will laugh. Sometimes when people “estou a pedir” (translates to “I am asking”) my telephone number, I respond I am estou a pedir-ing a hippopotamus before I give my number. Usually the man is so surprised he lets me leave.

Sometimes though, you get trapped. The worst is being stuck on a chapa with a man who thinks it is his right to hit on you for the duration of the ride. Because the bus is cramped anyway, there is little you can do.

A couple of weeks ago, I was heading back from Xai Xai after picking up a few things for my office. It had been a long day and I was not in the mood to deal with anyone. As I arrived at the chapa stop, a bus for Manjacaze was just pulling away. Just my luck. I had to wait for the next one to fill up, which often takes over an hour.

Silver lining, I got to pick my seat first. I am partial to the front seat. You only have to talk to one other person, you have a window, and you are guaranteed no chickens on your lap. I put my bag on the seat and went to get a coke.

When I returned a man, who smelled like his afternoon had been spent at a bar, told me he was going to sit by me. Just the way the man spoke should have been a red flag to me, but I said okay and continued drinking my cold beverage. A younger guy came by and we joked about how this older guy was annoying and I asked if he wanted to sit in front and switch seats with me. He laughed, but told me to keep my seat, I had been there first and I should have a good seat.

He was right. When the bus finally pulled away, the drunk man expected that I was going to sit in the middle. This is a common problem. For whatever reason, Mozambican men think the middle seat is no place for a man. Always trying to break gender barriers, I always argue this point and explain that since I was there first, the man can sit in the middle or wherever he wants, but I am sitting by the window. Usually the driver will support me on this, but on this particular day, the driver just laughed and let me deal with it.

Eventually the man got in the middle seat. He started talking to me about how beautiful my hair was (mind you I had been shopping in 90 degree heat, my hair was lots of things at this moment, but beautiful was not one of them). I told the man I was tired and that I just wanted to rest. He responded (in English now) that we were fine, friends and he was not going to give me stress. I put in my headphones.

This is when things started to really turn. This guy put his arm around me and I told him he could not do that. He continued to do it and I continued to move out of the way. Then he had the audacity to put his hand on my leg. I was furious. I moved his hand and told him if he touched me again that I would slap him.

Now, I should add here that this tactic of warning someone about what is to come I learned from my brother. I think the man, like me as a kid, thought the warning was empty. When he put his hand back on my leg, I turned around and slapped him across the face.

The entire chapa laughed. I should add here that I had not kept my feelings about this man to myself. I had been vocalizing my frustrations and the full chapa had failed to help me out. When they all laughed I realized no one was going to help me. I had an hour left on this bus next to this annoying man and I had nowhere to go.

The man turned to me after I slapped him and asked if I was playing with him. He had not taken my assault seriously. To prove I had not offended him, he told me “we are fine, you are testing me” and put his hand back on my leg. At this point, I turned to the driver and asked for his help. The driver said it was not his problem, that he was just a driver. The rest of the bus, now completely engaged in my battle, continued to watch and not help me.

Finally, I turned around to the bus. “God knows.” I said. “No one here is innocent. I am battling this man and no one is helping, and God knows you are not helping me.”

The bus fell silent. The man laughed and put his arm around me. Finally, the young man, from the bus stop, said, “leave this girl alone.” The man, though dejected, gave me a little space and did not speak to me the rest of the ride.