Indeed, the ongoing rage about who is harassing who in the Nigerian Senate is an unfortunate drama. I rarely like to get involved in the political dram in Nigeria except for research purpose. My resolve became firmer because I have come to the realisation that Nigerians actually get the type of leaders they have been getting. If a people will not push for good government because they they deserve one but will rather continue to fall for the antics and manipulations of politicians because of primordial sentiments, I do not think such a people deserve the tears and midnight cries we have made for years. It is time to move to more serious things while they stew in what they brought on themselves.
This is March, 2025. This is another month in which women get celebrated or serenaded globally, depending on who is asking! Anyway, we are talking about female harassment in the work place.
One thing I have come to realise is that sexual harassment for an unwilling female is a very scary and demeaning thing. A woman gets very easily scared and even scarred when she is sexually harassed. As a 17 year old, I was asked to go for auditioning at the Mapo studios of Broadcasting Corporation of Oyo State (BCOS) by Mr Sanda. I was introduced to him by the admirer of my friend who worked there as a camera man. His name was Mr Ojo. I think they used to call him Oj something. He finally helped me to get Mr Sanda’s attention. I think he was the one in charge of programming or something. Mr Sanda then sent me to their Mapo studios to audition for a Yoruba programme called Rokeke. At least, that is what the person that auditioned me said as I did not open the letter given to me to give to him. I do not open letters not addressed to me.
The man to audition me took me to the studio and we did the auditioning. We came oout and I was about to leave. The guy walked me to the entrance of the office. Then he stopped me. He looked very serious. This is a famous Yoruba presenter that I guess it was a privilege to have met him in person. I was very expectant. He looked at me for a long time and said: “Do you want to know the truth about your performance today?” I said: “Yes.” I was really interested in knowing how well I did and if there was any hope for me to get appointed by BCOS. I had wanted the job because I felt it would enable me to relieve my parents of needing to sponsor me for my higher education. I felt I should be able to take care of it myself while they could concentrate on my younger siblings. I guess you will consider it a noble idea.
His next words shattered my confidence. “You didn’t do well. You were speaking too fast.” I was dejected. I guess, I had tried. God saw my heart that I really wanted to remove the burden of my higher education from my parents. Then he threw the bombshell. “I can help you. You can retake the audition and do it a bit more slowly.” “Thank you, sir.” My heart leaped for joy at this second chance. As sheltered and innocent as I was, I could only thank that God had sent me another father in BCOS in addition to Mr Sanda. I gladly followed him back into the studio to retake the audition. I tried to calm down and follow his instructions. He played the sample presentations to me over and again. I tried to follow the sample and his instructions. Finally, it appeared that I managed to reach a manageable performance. This should already be going to a bit of late afternoon. I was getting worried at the endless auditions too. I was worried because I also had my curfew hour at home which I must not fun fowl of. I am still not a night person due to this strict upbringing. I sighed with gratitude when he said we were done.
Once again, he walked me out of the studios. He told me I should come back for the tape by Monday. I went their on a Friday. He then added the most uncomfortable part of the conversation. He started hitting on me and told me that he was helping me. It was not as if I did too well but he would work on the production and convince Mr Sanda that I had tried. I told I did not mind coming back to work on the production until I got it right. He said there was no need for that. He knew how to get Mr Sanda to agree and hire me. The only thing was that I should cooperate and he would ensure I was well taken care of.
Understand that as young as I was, this was not the first time a male was hitting on me. However, most times, I was always in a good position. When the discussion started going in this way, my panic mode set in. I cautiously looked around me. I noticed how lonely the top of the Mapo Hill where the studios were situated was. I realised that if this man decided to harm me here, I might find it difficult to escape harm. I just told my inner self to calm down. I reminded myself that I only abuse men hitting on me when I was in a far and safe distance away. This is no place to become an Ibadan girl. I needed to pretend that I understand all he was saying and was in agreement once we were not to commence until after my audition tape was available. The only thought in my head by this time was how to escape. I really did not think I needed that job again if so soon I would be getting undesirable male attention.
He finally let me leave, satisfied that he had gotten another prey. I guess the lonely studio was his lair. I was just thinking in my mind as I was leaving that the man that would be doing the hiring only saw me as a little girl with ambition. This is because Mr Sanda actually interviewed me before he sent me for the auditioning. However, the person who was just to audition me and not make the final decision was the one turning himself to a tin god to decide whether I should even get a foot in the door.
I got home and related everything to my mother. She sighed and just shook her head. Men and their unbridled desires. However, I guess, being already quite elderly, she did not understand how this affected me. I think mothers should give their daughters sexual education in order to understand them. My mom did not because we were not having such conversations. If we had, she would have known that I had mortal fear for men. I am saying this because on the day I was to go and collect the audition tape, she was the one asking why I was not dressed to go pick up the tape. I told her I was not going because I did not know what the man might do to me. She said I should not worry as no man would be crazy enough to attack me in the office. I guess if it were now, she would not be so sure of that. She encouraged me that once I picked up the tape and left for Bashorun, their office, I would not have any business with the man anymore. I told her I was not going because the studio location was very lonely and the Local Government offices located near there were a bit off. She said she was sure the man would not force me against my will. I should just go and pick up the take and leave. I refused. I simply told her that if she thought the job was that important, she could go take it herself. My mother then understood that I was really scared. She told me not to worry. Afterall, they never asked me to look for a job. She thought I was doing it out of interest. “Your father and I could feed you and send you to school. So, forget it.” I heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that she could now see reason with me. That was how my ambition to become a radio/television presenter/staff died a natural death till today. Even when I tried to resuscitate it after getting my degree, the State of Origin malaise had so eaten deep into the fabric of the Nigerian polity that it was a dead on arrival dream. In addition, my link person was already dead by this time, unfortunately.
Why did I tell this long story? If we look at the perspective of the distress a female goes through in such situations and how demeaned she feels, maybe our society will be more sympathetic or even empathic.
Now, this is not to say that there are no randy female that sexually harass the male. A few of my friends have been silent victims. I tried to intervene in my own way to help shield them from such harassment. Nonetheless, the truth is that in terms of social power dynamics, the female are the easier targets. I can tell you this too from personal and work experience. This is to be authentic. I hope to share some of these things within this month so that we can truly celebrate the female in our lives. Objectifying the female is most disrespectful to her dignity and person.
Relating all these to the ongoing national debate is not to take sides or say one person is wrong or right. However, diminishing the experience someone has had at a personal level (and shared publicly) is to be truly anti-heroic. We need to respect others’ feelings and experiences. If they turn out to have lied, then let the law take care of it. If they have experienced these uncomfortable and harrowing things, then let us respect their feelings as we may never know nor understand what they had to go through before sharing many of these deep seated uncomfortable experiences. I know how much of such harassments I never shared with my mom because if she knew some of the people she thought were supposed to be my ‘big bros’ who had spoken to me inappropriately, even though they are our neighbours or her co-workers, she would had been shocked. I was always thinking of not spoiling her relationships with them; but those men were not relenting. I just learnt to keep as much of a distance from them as I could without arousing suspicions. In this generation, I think it is important that we encourage our children to speak up. They should not be bottling up so much. If you do not understand someone’s experiences because you have not been a victim, it is antithetical to diminish and dismiss it.
Do comment on this and give your opinion.
We will continue this discussion. We will also share further tips/experiences for parents to learn from as well as discuss things that are sexual harassment that most men do not understand as such. I think some do those things because they do not understand the gravity of what they were doing or simply imagined that they would never be found out.
Talk to you all later.
IYABODE OMOLARA AKEWO NWABUEZE 