Of Robbers and Rapists

The agency I work for offered to provide bicycles to volunteers in remote locations (such as mine) to make transportation easier to outlying areas.  I was very much looking forward to receiving my bike because I prepare my own meals and there is no market in my town.  The closest market is a 15 minute ride in a mototaxi that costs 3 soles roundtrip (about $1).  When you factor in very short shelf life of food, requiring frequent visits to the market, having a bicycle is a huge cost savings to me – and great exercise, too.

 

While I waited for the several weeks it took for the bike to be delivered, I went on a low-key campaign to prepare my host family and neighbors.  The key ingredients of the campaign were to let them know that I did not pay for the bicycle myself (reinforcing the fact that I do not have the money to buy a bicycle), and because the bicycle does not belong to me I have to follow the rules of the owner who has lent it to me (which means I cannot lend the bike to anyone else).

 

Another important factor in my campaign to prepare people for the impending delivery of my bike was to reassure them that nothing bad is going to happen to me when I’m riding it.  The initial reaction of my host dad was that he believes it is dangerous to ride a bike on the country roads and that I should restrict myself to only riding it in front of the house.  I explained that I am accustomed to riding my bike in New York City, and that I think I can handle the country roads.  And, of course, I promised not to ride my bike on the Panamerican Highway.

 

I wanted to make sure that people who are concerned about me would have an opportunity to voice their concerns and then eventually they’d get over it when they realized that I am going to ride my bike wherever I choose.

 

And then I had a disturbing conversation with a woman who told me that I shouldn’t ride my bike into the farmland areas because there are robbers out there who will steal my bike.  I half-joked that I can ride my bike faster than robbers can run, so that won’t be a problem.  “No, you don’t understand,” she said.  “They will ride up on horseback and steal your bike and then rape you.”  It was such a horrifying scenario that I couldn’t even imagine.

 

But guess what?  That doesn’t happen around here.  And I’m not sure that it ever has, as I cannot get anyone else to validate her story.  And I have spent plenty of time in the farmland, among the lovely older farmers (with their even older donkeys) who clearly enjoy saying “good afternoon” to the resident gringa.  So, why would she give me such a horrible scenario?

 

I have realized that there is a tradition of telling women and girls stories that will strike paralyzing fear in them as a way to control their behavior and movements.  I imagine that the woman who told me about the rapist robbers was told the exact same story the first time she expressed interest in venturing beyond the town’s borders.  And I have heard other women and girls express concern for whatever plan I have declared to do is just plain “dangerous.”  Are they able to explain why it’s dangerous?  No. 

 

I think that it must be highly unusual for a woman to make decisions for herself because of the constant fear of being maimed or killed.  Hopefully I can serve as a role model and show women and girls here that we are capable of making decisions for ourselves and it's okay to take calculated risks to do things that will improve our lives.