Photo by Elizabeth Atalay
It was too hot for October as I pushed the baby’s stroller towards the busy intersection, nervous about navigating the after school traffic.
As I approached the T junction, I could see a woman striking her arms out wildly from the driver’s seat of her car, stopped at the red light. She looked as though she was battling someone in the passenger seat with all the strength the confined space would allow.
I had been reading and thinking a lot about women and women’s rights in Morocco since my arrival a couple of weeks prior and in the split second it took me to walk from the trunk to beside the window, I had concluded she was an abused wife, fighting back.
Prone as I am to flights of fancy, I had her whole heroic back story firm in my mind as I walked level to the front window and realized that she was in fact landing punches on a boy; about 12 or 13 and looking utterly deflated as he half-heartedly held his arms up against his mother’s blows.
He looked at me out the window, weary and sullen, as though the shame of the situation was nothing new to him. And I stared back. Brazenly and stupidly, gaping at the whole depressing scene.
Had I been in the US, I flatter myself that I would have known exactly what to do…take down the license plate, approach the window with cell phone in hand and inform the woman with all the authority vested in me by the state of motherhood I was going to call the police! Social services! She should be ashamed of herself!
But I did none of this. I just stared some more. I stared as the boy finally opened the door and got out of the car, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye and walking towards me and another bystander at the crosswalk, an elderly man.
Still dumbstruck, I watched as the man murmured what sounded like words of comfort to the boy, put a hand on the small of his back and guided him to the back seat of the car. He bent, said a few words to the mother through the open window. Then the light turned green and they pulled away.
Finally finding my tongue, all I could think to say as the elderly gentleman moved back to the sidewalk was, “poor boy”. “Just badly brought up”, the man replied.
However I consider the old man’s statement in retrospect, as a condemnation of the boy’s or the mother’s behavior, the fact remains that my reaction to the situation troubles me almost as much as the incident itself.
Several things stopped me from interfering….my shock, my diplomatic status and concern for not getting involved, my inability to speak the language. But mostly, I remember thinking at the time that I didn’t know what was culturally appropriate. In hindsight however, I now have to ask myself whether child abuse isn’t inappropriate no matter the circumstance, no matter the culture.
According to Save the Children, corporal punishment either at home or school is still a socially acceptable form of discipline in Morocco.
So, perhaps the mother would have been mystified, or insulted by my interference. Perhaps to her I would have been just some nosy, arrogant Westerner. But I can’t escape the fact that I felt that boy needed me. Or at least needed to hear that what was happening to him wasn’t right.
Do you think child abuse can be defined culture by culture, and what would you do if you witnessed a similar scenario?
This is an original Wold Moms Blog post by Natalia Rankine-Galloway
That’s a really tough question!
I remember something similar happened to me … I was 16 years old and my mom was driving. I was just sitting quietly and she suddenly started hitting me for being “sullen” and “sulking”! As I fended off her blows, all I could think was that “this woman is totally mad and I must get away from her!” We stopped in front of my aunt’s house and my mom yelled at my sister and I to stay put while she went to fetch something from our aunt. As soon as mom stepped away from the vehicle, I tried to make a run for it but my sister held me back (probably from fear that my mom would turn on her if I ran off!) My story had a “happy” ending in that my aunt stepped in and offered me “asylum” (I moved in with her and didn’t return home for 6 months!) I wonder what would have happened if my aunty wasn’t there for me, though! 🙁
As an adult, would I step in if I saw a child being hit like that? To be brutally honest, I’m not sure! I know for a fact that abusers will retaliate even worse if someone “interferes” but leaves the child in the home. Why do you think I didn’t go home for 6 months?! If you DO interfere, you’d better have a place of safety lined up for the child … that’s all I’m saying!
Yes, Simona you are right. If a 3rd Party interferes, he/she must be ready to take that child in to protect from further abuse when left alone with the abuser (whether is verbal/physical or emotional).
That is a tough one. I remember when I was a child we used to go to France in the summer and it was not an uncommon site to see mothers slapping their children if they misbehaved. It always used to shock my sisters and I and we always wanted to say something but never had the courage. Being a child and hearing the slap and then seeing the children’s red faces was something that really made us feel like there must be something we have to do! If I saw it now would I say something? I don’t know!
reading Simona’s comment worries me even more! I’d like to think I would say something though or do something. Here is Saudi it is law (relatively recent law though) to inform the police if anyone came into the hospital with suspicious injuries but it’s still very difficult to get past the sanctity of the family and the culture of not getting involved in other peoples business sometimes.
I don’t really know what to comment on this – I have lots of maghreb friends – Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria – and it’s true, the culture is wildly, wildly different. However, family dysfunction remains painful no matter what country it’s in.
Mistreatment is happening everywhere. Not all MOMMY loves their offsprings tenderly, sad to say. Abusive husband or work pressure or lifestyle would also lead to abusiveness.
It may be a taboo or a cultural practice since existence of mankind that women are always to be blamed. Husband or in-laws will point their fingers to moms when offspring are not in good health, kids misbehave, not succeeding in life and many more excuses. This has indeed contributed high amount of unseen pressure on world moms.
Not only that kid needed help, his mother is also crying for help, just expressed in the wrong way.
What a thought provoking post. It is my opinion that child abuse or any physical abuse is wrong. I don’t care what culture you live in. Now there is a difference between a slap or light spank but beating a helpless child is wrong. It is a violation of a basic human right. You were in an awkward situation and yes you probably did the right thing. I think awareness needs to be raised on a cultural level that this kind of behavior is not acceptable.
Thank you for the comments ladies. I’m glad the post was thought provoking. It was generous of you to share memories, good and bad, about this issue. The event and your thoughts have certainly kept the issue at the forefront of my mind. I had not considered consequences much past just interfering but you are right when you say that getting involved means taking a certain degree of responsability.
The retaliation on the child if someone intervenes breaks my heart further. I agree with Nicole — abuse is a violation of a human right, no matter where that human lives on the planet.
I can see how one can be easily stunned and paralyzed in your situation, Natalia. I really don’t know what I would have done if in your situation. I think I would have been compelled to do something. I just don’t know what…
This will be something I know I will find myself thinking about again and again. Thank you for sharing your experience!
Jen 🙂