 Tumi Marek recalls having rifles pointed at her while seven months pregnant. As police brutality continues to hawk international headlines this week, comedian Tumi Marek has reflected on having rifles pointed at her when she was seven months pregnant. There have been widespread protests in America against racism and police brutality towards black people. This has led to many South Africans sharing their tragic stories of suffering at the hands of law enforcement officials. Tumi added her voice to the debate around the violence and reflected on having rifles pointed at her when she was in Cape Town with her hubby Mbou Ose Tudu. Tumi opened about her ordeal after Songstress Simphai Widenna shared her views on Twitter about the psychological effects on a person who's experienced police brutality. The comedian also revealed how even after having rifles pointed at her, she and her hubby never got an apology. However, she felt grateful that her experience with the police didn't result in them being her. Yup. I've had rifles pointed at me, seven months pregnant wondering how threatening I looked. Hubby in his shorts and golf shirt in Cape Town. I see these reports and wonder if I should be grateful we weren't her or pissed off we didn't escalate the matter. No apology. Tumi also opened up about how the killing of George Floyd in America had triggered flashbacks to her own racist experience. In 2017, the then radio host was labeled a racist and allegedly received death threats after she weighed in on a radio show discussion about Steve Hoffmare by comparing apartheid to a bully taking a child's bicycle, and then the child being made to share the bicycle. According to Twitter, Tumi wrote express the trauma that she has to relieve when racial injustice makes headlines. The truth is I am triggered. I know what it's like to speak up and go through a relentless lynching by the right and its minions. Race things erupt and I have heart palpitations, type, and delete because it was traumatic. But my voice stubbornly clings to my throat. At first I think it is trying to stay down then I realize it is trying to claw its way out. The figurative I can't breath, coincidentally also the title of a poem I wrote after the bicycle saga.