THE FIGHT FOR CASSIE’S LIFE

Jan 24, 2016 AFC Column, Features / Columnists

---

For a bit over two years Cassie, now 20, had been obviously labouring under tremendous pressure.  Her young brows were furrowed all the time; she moved about the office more slowly than a tiny hundred-pound young lady would.  Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and when she was working, her visible jaw bones moved indicating that she was grinding her teeth.
She was a little too pliant and was seen crying more often than not.  If her Supervisor raised his voice to call an employee, she jumped.  He said that she always seemed to be afraid of him, or of something, but he never thought to ask and went on with business as usual.
Everyone else noticed as well, but nobody felt that they should ask her what was eating away at her like this.  They did witness her crying in the bathroom area but instead of showing some concern, comforting her, they chose to speculate and came up with a few scenarios.  Soon enough the gossip mill began to turn.  Unsubstantiated and unfair stories began doing the rounds in the office – Cassie was pregnant; Cassie had the HIV/AIDS virus; Cassie had a boyfriend because she used to tear out of the office at quitting time and dash across the road to catch a bus heading downtown.
No one knew where or how she lived, whether she was Christian, Hindu or Muslim, if she was married or not (she didn’t wear a ring), or had a family with siblings.  There was not a single person in the office she could call a friend, nobody to confide in.
One mid-level manager decided that a few months of watching Cassie mope around was quite enough.  She decided to engage Cassie in real conversation, just to befriend her at first, then learn about the factors and issues that made her so unhappy.  That day her eyes were red and teary like she had just been crying.   Close up, her arms and neck had black-and-blue marks.  Her ears were throbbing red and two fingernails were raw.  It was easy to make assumptions but the manager, let’s call her Joan, decided that the time was long gone for suppositions and what-ifs.  It was obvious that day that Cassie’s troubles were not work-related, the missing fingernail and red ears told their own story.
In the first 10 minutes of the conversation Cassie was like a vault – she wouldn’t say a word.  A few minutes later she was answering with a nod or a shake of the head non-intrusive questions like: were you in a road accident today; were you in a physical fight; did you have a fall; did you have breakfast this morning and do you have lunch for today?
Her clenched jaws gradually relaxed, the tears began to flow and Joan showed her some loving, motherly kindness, perhaps the first that came her way in years.  She asked a colleague to fetch one glass with water, another with plain milk and the packet of cookies in the lunchroom.
She led Cassie to her office where they remained for the rest of the workday.  The Human Resources Manager was called in later and that’s all the observers, those who had previously refused to help, were privy to.
HERE’S CASSIE’S STORY.
Her 18-year-old friend in the quiet West Bank Demerara village where she lived has just had a baby.  Those parents, products of the tiny community that is steeped in Hindu religion and culture, were incensed and embarrassed and often threatened to kill their daughter.  Cassie, from all appearances, was bearing the brunt of her own parents’ fear that she was also sexually active and would ‘shame’ them in the same way.  They reacted by imposing a series of strictures on poor Cassie – that she had to go to Pandit for counseling every day; that she had 30 minutes to reach home from work; and that she was never ever to speak to her pregnant childhood friend again.
Then they began to beat her mercilessly with any weapon at hand for simple infractions like speaking to anyone in the village; or if she arrived home after 5.00 pm.   Something or someone convinced them that since Cassie was working in Georgetown she had a boyfriend and was going to hotels at midday.   Then they decided that they would take her to a doctor to prove their theory that she was sexually active.  I didn’t mention that as soon as this theory surfaced, approximately two months before Joan’s intervention, Cassie was being beaten even more frequently, more cruelly by her parents.
This was enough.  She decided that her life was not worth living.  Her parents would not allow her to speak to anyone, not even her favourite aunt living in Berbice to where she could have escaped if she was allowed to use the telephone at home.  She had no computer and was barred from speaking to her peers in or outside of the village.  Cassie became desperate.  She could see no way out of her prison other than to end her miserable life.
To say that the hand of friendship extended by Joan was timely is putting it mildly.  Cassie had already begun to turn over in her mind the easiest, most effective ways to do this.  She had no access to toxic chemicals or pharmaceuticals, and she was not going to jump off of any high buildings to add to her pain.   What if she survived?
So Joan, who fortunately is a mother of four with a nurturing nature, made Cassie her friend and over the course of three or four days she learnt the story of Cassie’s life.  The company’s HR Manager had the opportunity to put her training in peer counseling and conflict resolution into practice.  Before she admitted it, they both knew that Cassie had made the decision to end her life, so they talked her out of it one at a time.  After Cassie’s initially strong objections to their going to speak with her parents (she had a real fear that her punishment would increase), she agreed.  The officers made contact with the favourite aunt in Berbice and without much encouragement she agreed to join them on their visit Cassie’s parents.
By God’s good grace, it all worked out well.  The parents were very resistant at first but the father’s sister (Cassie’s favourite aunt) forced them to listen.  They were genuinely remorseful when they learnt that the girl was contemplating suicide.  They had never considered that their actions would have such a profound effect on their daughter.
Evening came and Cassie returned home from work at 5.05 pm to be greeted by hugs from her tearful parents.  They promised to end the brutality and Cassie metamorphosed into a brilliant, helpful employee which saw her promoted not so long after the intervention.  Her social life blossomed (still with some restrictions) but she is a happy, grateful 20-year-old.
This story ends well as a few others have, but the AFC is very concerned about another type of abuse – sexual abuse and trafficking of 12-year-olds in a few interior Regions.  It takes no stretch to conclude that the stories recently carried in the media about pubescent girls impregnated by their fathers and close relatives have only now come to the front burner.  We shudder when we imagine that this scourge, this abuse of our future, has been taking place for ages.
We learnt that the rate of suicide among children and women in the hinterland is unacceptably high, a situation that has to be halted right now.  The Public Health Ministry has teamed up with the Ministries of Human and Social Services, Social Cohesion, Indigenous Peoples Affairs, Tourism and others to implement suicide prevention strategies and to address the psychology of it.  Many non-governmental organizations (NGO’s) especially those that promote the rights of women and children have joined this fight to save our future.
(Look out for Part II)
The Hotlines that could give you a tomorrow: 223-0001, 223-0009, 623-4444, 600-7896.

---

---