I thought a lot about this post, mostly about the language I’m about to use. I can tell you that because this is a public blog and because it has the potential to be viewed by future employers, that is the only reason the language in this post isn’t filled with more “colorful” words, which, I believe, would be a much more useful demonstration of last night.
Yesterday was a mess of activity and events, all of which were unplanned. My intent was to return home early, enjoy a dinner prior to the 10 o’clock time that seems to have somehow manifested itself as my dining hour and enjoy a nice quiet night with a book (and I may have smuggled in some wine, which I planned on drinking).
Due to a few unscheduled events, I made it back to my house just before dark, when the sun was setting, somewhere around 8:58 (nothing like specificity). I mentioned earlier that I’m still new to my neighborhood, which means I don’t yet know my neighbors. I think this is problematic as it hinders others from worrying about me (pros and cons to that). I approached my apartment and lingering at the base of the stairwell was a young man in his late teens or early twenties. I had stopped at the store close to my house and was walking with groceries. I had my headphones on. (I used to be opposed to people wearing headphones, thinking that it cuts out the opportunity to talk to members of the community, but sometimes they’re needed because they also cut out the sounds of people yelling inappropriate things at you. It was that kind of day.) This young man motioned for me to enter the stairwell before him. I declined. Whatever it was, intuition I suppose, I did not want this guy behind me on the stairs. He motioned again for me to go ahead; I declined and said in Azeri, “I don’t want to.” He laughed and said to his friend who is lounging in this gazebo structure nearby, “She doesn’t want to.” He then asks me, what I think is, “Are you a prostitute?” I say, “I don’t understand.” (He is currently blocking the stairwell as I didn’t want him behind me and he wouldn’t go first.) He then says it again. I shake my head and say “I don’t understand.” I also have an expression on my face which I hope is conveying “You’re an idiot, move.” He says it again and then makes a hand gesture which unmistakably states what he’s asking. I finally brush past him and make it upstairs to my apartment. I am a little nervous and fumble with my keys as I try to get them into the lock. As I’m doing so, I keep an eye on the stairwell. It is now dark and my stairwell has no other light aside from the flashlight I use on my PC issued cell phone.
I get in my apartment and lock the door; both the deadbolt and a lock which uses a key. I close all the curtains before turning on the lights. I turn on the lights and take a deep breath. The guy had given me the creeps. I start to thinking about dinner. I put the kibosh on the wine and start making some tea. I go and sit on the chair in my living room for a second and text one of my sitemates about how some guy had just asked me if I was a prostitute. While she and I were in the midst of a text conversation, someone, a few “someones,” begin to knock on my door. There is a group of them; I hear loud talking and laughter. I don’t move. I don’t need to look through the peek-hole; I know who it is and why they’re there. They don’t go away. I ignore the knocking, expecting them to leave. The knocking continues for a solid two minutes. I have about 3 lights on in my apartment (kitchen, living room, hallway). They continue knocking. One says something to the other and immediately after the lights in my apartment go out. They start laughing. In the hallway outside my apartment is the fusebox to all the apartments, they flipped the switch and turned off the electricity to my apartment in hopes to coax me out into the hallway. I am now terrified. I am not going out there. It’s pitch black in my apartment; in the hallway. I call our Peace Corps Security Officer. I am trying to be calm and explain the problem, but really I’m hysterical and I start crying a little. He calmly starts asking me questions; I can’t understand why he’s so calm. I am still sitting in the dark. Are they still out there? I still hear voices, I can’t tell if they’re coming from outside or the hallway.
The Security Officer tells me he can call the police, I now realize I don’t want to be talking to him, I want to be talking to my counter-part who I know will come over immediately (and bring a few friends) to have a “chat” with these guys. I then tell him I want to call my counter-part who I know will come over. I have to admit, I haven’t had to use the police here. I don’t know if they would have taken their time to appear or if would have come immediately, I needed immediately. I remember calling the police in America once and they took an hour and a half to show up.
I was a sitting duck; a duck in the deepest dark.
I ended up calling my counter-part, who immediately came over with friends. He didn’t completely understand me on the phone, I think he just thought my electricity had gone out (I was crying and wasn’t entirely articulate). Finally, he understood what had happened and was extremely angry and started asking questions, “Who were they? Have you seen them before? What did they look like?” I only saw the one guy when I entered the building.
My initial reaction last night was, I’m moving out of this building. I’m getting out of this area. I don’t think I can change anyone’s opinion of me. Today, in the light of day, I’m wondering if that’s what I should be doing or not. Today the Peace Corps Security Officer is contacting the police and I’ll file a report. I’m hoping they’ll come over here and check things out, talk to my neighbors. I want these guys to know they can’t come to my door and they can't act that way towards me.
The thing is, one of the guys, if not all, must live in my building. They would have to know which fuse switch was mine because they're not labeled according to apartments, you just have to know the number. They knew my number.
I don’t want to move, but I don’t want to deal with incessant harassment either. I haven’t even been here a month yet. It’s only been a few weeks and I’ve had two separate incidences where I’ve had to call our Security Officer. I can’t decide if this is “make a stand” worthy, but I’ll be considering it all weekend.
P.S. I really talk a lot about crying in this blog, I don’t really consider myself a “crier” although I’ll concede I’ve become more emotional as I’ve gotten older. Additionally, I think this was a warranted instance.
0 comments:
Post a Comment