I don't get blogging time on Saturdays and Sundays so I am bringing a previous blog to the top of the pile. This story haunts every civilised person who reads it and the perpetrators got away scot free. I hope that the groundswell of opinion grows until someone in the muslim community denounces this barbarity.
In a step away from the usual frivolity I am devoting today's blog entirely to the memory of Aisha Ibrahim Duhulow.
I can't tell you much about Aisha other than that she was 13 and Somalian and died after being raped by three men. I can't tell you if she was pretty or she was tall, if she enjoyed singing or perhaps to dance. I don't know if she had a favourite little brother or a big sister that she looked up to but I can tell you that she is dead.
You may wonder why I move away from my usual light heart to write this after months of blogging. Hundreds of people have died in terrible circumstances in that time but Aisha has struck a chord with me. One that has made me ashamed of my gender.
Because although she died after being raped. It was not the rape that killed her. She died because an Islamist court decreed that in going through the ordeal of rape she had committed the sin of ADULTERY. Read it again. Yes that's right. A thirteen year old is raped and then found guilty of adultery.
And what was her punishment for her wickedness in being raped?
To be taken to a football stadium and, in front of 1,000 people buried in a hole up to her neck and then stoned to death by a dozen men. To make matters even worse; half way through her ordeal she was taken out of the pit to check if she was still alive. She was. So she was put back in the hole and the atrocity continued until she expired.
People ask me why I am an atheist. This deed was done in the name of religion. This religion stinks.
Rest in peace Aisha.
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