Yesterday, exactly two months before my 23rd birthday, I had the unpleasant task of opening an assault case. This case was made after my person was violated and I was threatened in front of the White River Magistrate’s Court Magistrate’s Court on Monday.
Protests were well underway when I arrived at court that day. It was clear that the protesters had been drinking, proven not only by the broken beer bottles on the ground but also by their aggressive attitudes and the red circles in around their eyes.
Instinctively I pulled out my cell phone and started taking a video. It was then when they charged at me. Two men grabbed me by the wrists. They pushed and shoved me and tried to steal my phone.
My knuckles where white as I refused to let go of it. They’re breath smelt of strong booze and they were dripping with sweat. Two community members helped me to escape their hold after which they threw me with booze.
I was shaking and I was very confused when I entered the court.
“Why were they attacking me,” I thought. “I was just doing my job.”
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Here is what they did not realise: Without the media as their mouthpiece, they would never be heard. And that is the essence of what I always strive to do.
I am back at the court today, exercising my legal right to report on what will be happening. After I made my case, I was once again met with protesters. This time, however, I did not even flinch.
I will still write their stories even though the have done me wrong with as much passion as I will write the stories of their enemies.
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