Aissata was minding her own business cooking dinner, when her housemate flipped... By Aissata Keita, 29, Newport
I tucked my two-year-old son into bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead.
‘Goodnight, Mummy,’
he said.
‘Night, baby,’ I smiled.
Then, I went downstairs for
a cup of tea and bumped into
my housemate Mariama in the kitchen.
I’d just moved in with her and hoped we could be friends.
Both our families were originally from Guinea and we liked cooking traditional food.
‘I’ll take you to the local African shops tomorrow,’ I said.
‘OK,’ she replied.
Next day, we made small talk as we wandered around the shops looking for the best meat and spices.
She wasn’t the chattiest, but we were still getting to know each other.
But when we got talking that evening, she said something odd.
‘I like arguing and fighting,’ she said.
‘But that’s wrong, it goes against our Islamic faith,’ I told her.
Her face fell.
From then on, she never had a kind word to say to me.
Every day, she either ignored me or gave me a dirty look.
Then, she started being aggressive towards my little boy.
If he touched anything of hers, she’d burst into a rage.
‘Get off! You’ll break it,’ she’d shout.
After that, I made sure to keep him away from her.
It saddened me that my son and I weren’t welcome in our own home and I had to tread on eggshells around her.
Being a full-time mum meant
I was home a lot, but thankfully Mariama was often away visiting family.
Having the house to myself was bliss.
But when she’d come back, the whole atmosphere would change.
No matter how friendly I was, she treated me with contempt.
I’d never met someone
so rude.
How can she hate me when she doesn’t even know me?
I thought.
As we shared the bathroom and kitchen, it was hard not to bump into her.
One evening while she was in her bedroom, I decided to start making dinner.
Walking into the kitchen, I spotted the door to the garden was open.
‘It’s freezing,’ I muttered as I closed it.
I got out a chopping board and started cutting up chicken and onions for my favourite stew.
Then, I set them aside and poured oil into a pan.
It was just starting to sizzle when Mariama walked in.
Oh no, I thought.
Without saying a word, she went over to the back door and opened it.
‘Please keep it closed, it’s too cold,’ I said as I closed it again.
Mariama’s face was like thunder.
She opened it again.
What on earth is she doing?
I wondered.
Once again, I walked over to the door and closed it.
While we had our tug-of-war,
I tried to keep an eye on the pan of boiling hot oil.
After opening it for the fourth time, she stormed over to the pan.
Exasperated, I closed the door again.
'What on earth is she doing?'
As I turned around, she was reaching for the pan.
I assumed she was going to move it, but suddenly she
picked it up and threw the oil over me.
As it splashed on to my stomach, I was in agony.
‘Why? Why?’ I screamed.
‘You stopped me going to the toilet!’ she shouted angrily.
But it didn’t make sense.
I hadn’t been blocking her way to the bathroom at all.
I quickly ran out of the house and my screams attracted the attention of the neighbours.
‘Please help!’ I yelled.
After calling for an ambulance, a neighbour went to get my son from inside.
I was relieved, because I was worried that Mariama would harm him too.
With every second that ticked by, the pain only seemed to get worse.
I was hysterical.
Thankfully, the ambulance arrived minutes later with police following closely behind.
Mariama was arrested and
I was rushed to hospital.
Then I was quickly transferred to one that had a specialist burns unit.
When the doctor lifted my T-shirt to check the damage,
big painful blisters had already formed on my stomach and groin.
‘We’re going to give you an anaesthetic so we can pop
those and cut off any loose skin,’ he said.
I was terrified.
When I came round from the procedure, the areas were covered in bandages and it was too painful to move.
‘You suffered burns to four per cent of your body,’ the doctor said.
‘You’re likely to have lifelong scars,’ he added.
I burst into tears.
Then, I found out my son had been placed in emergency foster care, because I had no family nearby.
‘He’s never been away from me,’ I sobbed.
I was furious with Mariama.
Not only had she hurt me, but she was affecting my son too.
The next day, I was discharged from hospital.
I was given strong pain medication and special moisturiser to put on my burns twice a day.
With help, I was able to move straight into a new home.
Then, I got my son back but
I couldn’t be the mother I was before.
I couldn’t play with him or pick him up because moving was agony.
Even normal daily tasks like getting out of bed or going upstairs were excruciating.
I hated Mariama for what she’d done to me.
Every week for two months, I had to get
my bandages changed at hospital.
Seeing how horrific the scars looked was distressing and I’d break down crying.
I can’t believe I’ll never look the same again, I thought.
'I'll never look the same again'
Soon, Mariama
was charged with wounding with intent.
A year later, the case went to trial.
I went to court but asked to sit where I couldn’t see Mariama.
I told the jury how her attack had impacted my life.
Mariama Bah, 30, was found guilty and given eight years in prison at Cardiff Crown Court.
Then, the judge addressed her.
‘You walked over to the cooker and picked up the pan of hot oil on the hob and flung it at her. This was a deliberate act in a moment of anger,’ he said. ‘Your victim has been left with permanent and irreversible injuries.’
Mariama will only have to serve two-thirds of her sentence before being released on licence.
It’s no justice for the mental and physical trauma I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life.
It took six months to get most of my mobility back and I recently got an infection in one of my scars.
It was agony and thanks to Mariama, I could have problems like that for years to come.
I used to be a confident, happy person who was proud of the way she looked.
Now, my scars make me feel ugly and unconfident.
I’ve had to get rid of some of my clothes because I can’t wear anything that shows my stomach.
Even fitted tops are out of the question as they show the shape of my scars.
For some reason I now get a burning sensation when eating spicy foods that I love, so I’ve had to cut them out too.
I’ll never be the same person
I was before Mariama’s attack, but I hope one day I can gain some confidence back.
I’m just glad she’s behind
bars so she can’t ruin anyone else’s life.
By Aissata Keita, 29, Newport