OPINION: The problem with SA’s never-ending path of violence

The Foundation for Human Rights is concerned about the rising incidents of gender-based violence against women and children during the Covid-19 lockdown. Photo: Supplied

The Foundation for Human Rights is concerned about the rising incidents of gender-based violence against women and children during the Covid-19 lockdown. Photo: Supplied

Published Jul 22, 2020

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By Professor Tshilidzi Marwala

The spike in gender-based violence (GBV) that reached pandemic levels during the Covid-19 period reminds me of one of the books I recently read, Purple Hibiscus, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

It is about a prominent Igbo family in Nigeria during the time of the military dictatorship of Sani Abacha. The patriarch of this family is Eugene Achike, a newspaper and industrial baron who is a strict Catholic and a control freak in his family.

His wife is Beatrice, and they have two children, Kambili the daughter, who is the narrator of the story, and a son, Jaja. The two children are oppressed by the cocktail of a strict religious regime coupled with Eugene’s physical abuse. They are restricted from seeing their paternal grandfather, Papa-Nnukwu, because Eugene deems him to be a pagan.

When an opportunity arises for them to visit their aunt, Ifeoma, a lecturer at the University of Nigeria-Ntsukka, and her three children, Amaka, Obiora and Chima, it opens their eyes to the wider world.

They experience freedom and are, for the first time, encouraged to express themselves. While there, Ifeoma fetches Papa-Nnukwu, who is sick. He dies a few days later.

Kambili meets Father Amadi, with whom she falls in love. But he is a monk, and is ultimately transferred to Germany. Eugene is upset that they spent time with their grandfather and he fetches them. When he finds out Kambili has a drawing from her grandfather, Eugene burns her feet.

Ultimately, Beatrice fatally poisons Eugene. Jaja covers for her and goes to jail but is released through a pardon facilitated by bribery. Ifeoma is dismissed from her job and ends up in the US.

Eugene was a respected family man and churchman, even though he abused his wife and children. They never tell anyone, a trait they share with many abused women and children in South Africa. Beatrice had multiple miscarriages because of the abuse.

Here in South Africa, Naledi Phangindawo, Nompumelelo Tshaka, Nomfazi Gabada, Nwabisa Mgwandela, Altecia Kortjie and Lindelwa Peni are among the women killed in recent weeks.

As South Africans face an invisible threat in the form of the coronavirus, our women face another perennial enemy - violence at the hands of men.

In the aftermath of Uyinene Mrwetyana’s murder last year, the mass call to action seemed to be the moment, but the scourge has continued unabated. That week, other cases surfaced.

Against the backdrop of the World Economic Forum being hosted in Cape Town, there was a glimmer of hope that the voices against violence would be heard. Our president declared femicide a national crisis last year, but we are in the same place as we were then.

This month, the Gender Commission argued for a shift from rhetoric to real action to curb GBV. Despite commitments to transforming legislation and ensuring justice is served, little traction has been gained.

It can be argued that deep-seated structural inequalities in our society, patriarchal dominance and other sociological problems are responsible for this never-ending path of violence.

Our media reports cover GBV stories erratically and with a primarily urban focus; it is clear that GBV knows no geographical boundaries.

Internationally, few countries are exempt from this - it is a global phenomenon, with much lip service paid to it but little success in eradicating it. According to UN co-ordinator Bekele-Thomas, in 2017/18, an average of 110 rapes were recorded daily. In 2017 and 2018, 2930 women were murdered. And this is just what is reported.

The fear of reporting and facing up to a relentless justice system requires courage. We are yet to develop compassionate enabling environments in police stations, in the courts and even wider society.

According to statistics from the Global Peace Index, violence in South Africa is akin to countries at war or in conflict. This is frightening. At times one wonders if it will ever abate.

As the coronavirus pandemic necessitated a national lockdown, the fear was that GBV levels would increase. According to the World Health Organization, 35% of women across the world have experienced some form of GBV. In times of crisis, this number more than doubled to more than 70%.

An anti-domestic violence NGO in Hubei Province in China reported that partner violence had nearly doubled during lockdown. In the UK, it is reported that there has been a 120% increase in domestic violence. British domestic abuse NGO Refuge reports a 700% increase in calls from victims.

With South Africa’s high levels of rape, domestic violence and femicide, there was an expectation that this would rise. It is clear we have not done enough. A few marches, an opinion piece here and there, politicians making the right noises and civil society rising up every now and then.

It is what we do in the next few years that will be critical to ensure that social cohesion, our social fabric, does not collapse in the face of rising unemployment, a sliding economy and poverty.

Professor Marwala is vice-chancellor and principal of the University of Johannesburg.