Pieces of Happiness by Anne Ostby

Author:Anne Ostby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2017-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

29

Lisbeth

“It’s disgusting,” Lisbeth says with a shudder, and lights a cigarette. “Just revolting, plain and simple! What kind of swine would do something like this?”

The headlines appear in the local newspaper almost daily, usually hidden at the bottom of a page toward the back: “Grandfather Sentenced to 18 Months for Raping Grandchild.” “Sexual Abuse of 10-Year-Old Daughter.” “Baby Raped, 39-Year-Old Arrested.”

“I can’t imagine it. But I guess it happens all over the world.” She sighs and blows out a cloud of smoke.

“Mm-hmm.” Kat gives her a long look. “It does. But the statistics here in the South Pacific are worse than the world average. They say that on a global scale, one in three women will experience rape or abuse over the course of her life. In the South Pacific it’s three out of five.”

“Oh dear me, but why?” Lisbeth furrows her eyebrows. “I thought the culture here emphasized…protecting their own, in a way?”

“Yes.” Kat takes a moment to think. “But ‘culture’ is a word that can cover up a lot of crap. It’s part of the ‘culture’ here for men to help themselves to women, even little girls. And the vast majority of rapes and assaults are never reported.”

“Why not?”

“Because the assailant is usually a family member. Kids here are surrounded by big brothers and uncles and cousins and grandfathers who come and go as they please—these are people they grow up with. So if a girl is raped by an uncle she’s known her whole life, how easy is it to then take it to the police? It’ll have consequences for the whole family, the whole village, most likely. So they’d rather keep quiet.”

“Well, this isn’t the only place that happens, goddammit!”

Sina’s voice is hard and jagged. Lisbeth peers at her inquisitively. For the most part, neither of them gets too involved in what she quietly calls the minilectures at Vale nei Kat; it’s usually Kat and Ingrid and sometimes Maya who do the talking. But right now, all eyes are on Sina.

“It’s hardly news that men can’t keep it in their pants. It’s always been that way.”

Something foreign and wounded lies beneath her terse words. Lisbeth stares at her, but Sina doesn’t meet her gaze. A sudden silence sinks over the porch. Sina’s chair creaks as she leans forward and grabs Lisbeth’s cigarette case. “And we trust them too, don’t we? That’s not exactly unique to Fiji?”

Lisbeth leans back, sees that the hand holding the match is quivering slightly.

“What pisses me off”—Sina’s voice is calmer now—“is when they tell us to watch how we dress. How we behave. Us! As if that has anything to do with whose fault it is. And by the way”—she hesitates a moment—“it’s not just women with short skirts and great tits who are exposed to sex.”

Lisbeth stiffens; is Sina hinting at her? What a strange thing to say—exposed to sex? Like a sudden rainstorm or a car accident. She waits for Sina to continue.

But Sina doesn’t, and the surprise over her outburst is tempered by sorrow; it floats out over their heads in the gray cigarette smoke.

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