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The day I was violated

Jul 12, 2009 Features / Columnists, My Column

By Adam Harris
I have never raped and I surely did not know what it was to be a rape victim until person or persons unknown invaded my home on Caricom Day. It was a well deserved holiday and I was feeling a bit under the weather so I stayed at home all day to do what I like best—cooking.
It was not until about eight that evening that I decided to leave my home to go to Kaieteur News to fashion an editorial. I decided to take my grandson with me so that I could give him a bit of an outing.

We had not gone for too long, about two hours or so, and when I returned the absence of a very expensive camera loaned to me by Kaieteur News greeted me. Immediately I knew that something was wrong. The main door was locked so I knew that the point of entry wasn’t there.
A quick walk around my home, my castle, my place of sanctuary from a sometimes hectic world, revealed an open back door. In fact, two doors were open, one of them the door leading to my bedroom. I was stunned. I had been living here for thirty years and at no time was I ever violated. I was violated on Caricom Day.
My grandson spotted the missing DVD player and the car stereo that I had put aside just in case I would ever need it. I walked around and I noticed that my laptop had also gone missing as though it had developed legs.

A few bottles of choice liquor had also disappeared; my wardrobe had been subjected to a cursory search; a cell phone that I had left on my bed had also disappeared.
My shock turned to anger because no one has a right to enter my home without an invitation. Besides, anyone who did this to me had to be from the neighbourhood and the people in the neighbourhood were my responsibility. I would help everyone. There were times when I had to go to the police station to help secure their release because I could have vouched for them.
The person who entered my home had to be someone who at one time enjoyed my largesse. This was a violation of our relationship; it was a violation of trust and above all it was akin to rape because I felt so violated. This person walked all over my bedroom, climbed on my bed to retrieve the cell phone that he did not put there.

It was some time before I discovered that the point of entry was a window in my bedroom. The grill had been prised open after two louvre blades had been removed.
I am still recovering and I have some sleepless nights because I could not understand that at that hour of night my neighbours failed to detect anything. They later told me that with the area being so quiet and with people looking out for each other they never expected the attack.
I have covered stories about similar invasions and I have seen people cry because they never expected the violation. I have covered reports of people being aroused from their slumber by intruders, some bearing guns. That must be a frightening experience.
When my time came I was actually embarrassed to make the report. The fact that the news got out was because I had to tell the people with whom I worked.

There is something about life that never surfaces until one is in the middle of it. We all know that there are poor people but we also know that people try their best to get out of poverty by honest means. We also know that most people rather ask than steal. When someone steals that person’s stock goes down tremendously in people’s esteem. That person is immediately branded and often has a hard time fitting back in society. He is no longer trusted by even his friends and he develops new attitudes.
This is going to be the case of the person who entered my home. There is a suspect in custody. The identity of the suspect has shocked everyone, especially since he was a person who literally grew up in my home.
I hope that if it is him he would just return my property. I will get over the invasion of my privacy and I hope the situation does not make me view people differently.

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