It’s three months now since I relocated to Sweden. And a lot has happened to me. So much that I feel like I have lived here for a decade. Infact, these activities are the main reason I began blogging again.
Most of it has been laughable but there are two incidences that have left me in shock.
Towards the end my first month here a man harassed me at the bus stop. I had a meeting that went on to almost 9.30pm and on my way home I decide to pass through a store to get a few supplies. Some guy followed me out and asked if I wanted to go home with him to drink some vodka. I politely declined thinking he was part the notorious A-laget (Swedish alcoholics).
He was persistent and declared he was from Italy. I could clearly see he was an Arab from looks and accent. I’m not sure why he would lie about that either. Not unless it’s cool to be followed home by an Italian. I walked faster towards the bus stop which by now was clearly empty. He followed me, inquiring whether my bum and boobs were real or if it had some silicon in it. Then he declared that he was willing to even pay me to go home with him so that I could ‘please him’.
I was very pissed off and was about to beat the hell out of him then I remembered that I was in Sweden where shouting someone’s name in the streets is already frowned upon (I have been insulted for laughing out loud. Ok, fine! I laughed too much and frankly that could have annoyed even the wildest animal.) Where were we, guy followed me to the bus stop, tried to corner me but I swung my gym bag and walked away very fast to the nearest crowd. He shouted ‘Goodbye Sweetheart. I will call you’.
I had forgotten about that until recently while walking to the bus stop from the gym. It was at 10am, on a public holiday, when a black Mercedes slowed down beside me. A middle-aged Arab guy waves and I look away thinking he was waving at someone else; perhaps two blonde girls walking towards me.
He then sped off and parked right ahead of the store that I was clearly walking towards.
He pulled down his window and shouts: “C’mon sweetheart, let’s come inside. Let’s talk.” 10 am?
Where do people get these guts?
I thought moving to a first world country meant that I was taking a break from sexual harassment. I was like phewks! No more cat calling and risking being undressed for a while but no. It got worse!
And the worst part is that I still don’t know how to deal with this. Normally in Kenya, I would have faced the man and gave him a piece of my mind. But now I’m in a new country dealing with people from different backgrounds. I have to be careful how I address some issues lest I’m tagged racist or violent!
DISCLAIMER: This post is just meant to highlight what happened to me. I mean no harm towards any race. We are all equal!