The entire nation, from Prime Minister to pavement dweller, has been plunged into deep anguish and sorrow over the awful tragedy that befell Andrea Bharatt, 23, on January 29. Just two months earlier on November 29, Ashanti Riley, 18, suffered a similar fate.
Other victims come readily to mind: pupil Rachael Ramkissoon, 16; bank employee Shannon Banfield, 20; pannist Asami Nagakiya, 30.
I remember the death of a schoolgirl on her way home from lessons in the remote rural community of Flanagin Town, and the disappearance of three attractive young ladies in Central. These tragedies occurred within the last decade or so. I distinctly recall their faces, but not their names. And the Sunday Express (February 14) reminded us of Rhada Pixie Lakan, 16, who went missing in 2005 on her way home from school, only to be found decomposed one month later.
I am cursed with a morbid memory, and the name of yet another schoolgirl comes to mind: Savitri Ramgolam, whose corpse was discovered in the canefields of Caroni several decades ago, in the 70s, I believe.
I am also in deep anguish and I have pondered on the cruel fate that befell Andrea, as well as all the victims of rape and cold-blooded murder.
Nature’s first law is survival. Women must fight back by any means necessary.
I recommend that they consider the water gun option. Water guns that fit into the palm of the hand were selling a dime a dozen last Christmas. Instead of water, fill it with bleach. It is a potent weapon and extremely cheap.
A back-up is necessary. A miniature steel cross sharpened at one end can be worn either as a brooch hidden in the hair, or attached to a necklace. My advice to women is simple. As the assailant unzips, seize the cross and aim for the jugular.
Kernahan Village, Mayaro