The Longest 10 Minutes of my Life

After I graduated from university in early 2021, I was excited to start my life as an independent woman — a big part of which, I thought, was getting an apartment of my own. I was still living in student housing with friends, but I started to make a decent salary and was confident that I could find and furnish an apartment of my own.

In Kigali, it’s not uncommon for apartment-seekers to meet dodgy housing agents who charge a fee to look at falsely advertised houses. It can be a stressful and expensive experience, so I worked with a real estate agent and also took my best guy friend up on his offer to help. My friend, however, eventually got tired of going to see so many places; I had specific requirements none of the places we saw were meeting. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever find a house I wanted to live in, or if I’d end up homeless at the beginning of the following month.

Finally, the agent I had been working with sent me a house that looked close to what I wanted. I was running out of time, so after taking a tour of the place I decided to compromise and try to secure the place.

What happened next was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. I contacted the house’s landlord, who did not live at the apartment complex, to let him know I was interested. The man I spoke to on the phone sounded respectful, if fast-mannered, though that’s nothing out of the ordinary in Kigali. He proposed we meet immediately so I could hand over the deposit and show him the things I wanted to be fixed in the house. We arranged to meet a few minutes away from the house; I didn’t think much of it and agreed for him to pick me up at the corner.

Once the landlord pulled up and I entered his car, I immediately felt uncomfortable. The landlord was scanning me up and down, his eyes constantly on my thighs. It’s something I have experienced before — I have found that men’s eyes often wander when they talk to women, but I had previously always been able to keep a safe distance from them when that happened. Now I was stuck in a car with a strange man. I realized he could do anything he wanted to.

He proceeded to ask me a few questions about myself, and I responded as politely as possible. After a few exchanges, he rested his hand on my thigh, close to my vagina, and kept it there.

It took me a moment to process what was happening. My heart felt like it was in my throat. Although I knew he wanted to take it further to feel up my vagina, I didn’t push his hand away; I was numb. I mustered the courage to firmly tell him not to touch me like that, and audaciously, he asked me why I didn’t want him to. He did, however, remove his hand and didn’t attempt to touch me again. I didn’t get angry outwardly, since we still had a few minutes in the car before we reached the house. As we pulled up, all I could think was, “I have no more options for housing and now I have to deal with a pervert for a landlord.”

Despite this scary experience, I still felt I had no option but to pay for the house. Since the landlord didn’t live at the complex and I wouldn’t have to see him often, I hoped it would be fine. I paid the deposit and went home. When I was alone, though, I began to think about having to communicate with this man every month and whenever else I had a problem, and that frightened me. What if he would rape me one day, and he had all the power he now had to make my life miserable. It gave me so many sleepless nights.

I continued to look for apartments and, five days before I had to move, I found another place. I decided to take it.

Unsurprisingly, it was difficult to get my deposit back from the landlord, who made me jump through hoops like telling me to look for another tenant or he wouldn’t give me my deposit. Ultimately, he agreed to give me half of my money back. I asked my friend to accompany me to retrieve this money because I was so afraid of being alone with that man again.

I’ve felt powerless before, but never as much as I did in those few minutes in that car. That experience opened my eyes to how vulnerable young women are in so many situations. I could have been more careful, and I regret that, but I also don’t want to sit on that regret for too long because ultimately this man made a decision to violate me.