Faces of WAR and works of God

I never expected I would be sitting in a courtroom on a Friday morning. I arrived with Mpho, my new counterpart and supervisor at WAR (Women Against Rape). We accompanied one of their clients to the magistrate. This client has been the plaintiff in this case against her husband for over a year and a half now. I sat in court, watching as this case that seems so simple to me was extended and delayed yet again. Her battle began started two years ago.

Her husband is the manager of a bank, and he had been beating her at home for several months. One day, they got into an argument at his place of work, and he attacked her in front of everyone, hands around her throat, choking her. There were several witnesses, including the security guards that pulled him off of her. Since the guards are friends of his, and his employees are afraid of him, they all gave false statements when she pressed charges. It was her word against 6 others who wouldn’t stand up for her or stand up against him.

Weeks later, at home, he strangled her until she lost consciousness. The case was re-opened, but due to a corrupt system, she’s still fighting a year and a half later.

We talked to her after the session adjourned.

“I feel at peace and optimistic,” she told us,” I’m not letting him get away with this. Mpho, I know that I survived this for a reason. There are too many women who are going through this with their husbands or boyfriends, but they don’t have the strength to speak out. Please use me in any way that you can. I want to speak to people.”

WAR has been with her every step of the way, and has helped her remain strong throughout the process. She is so grateful, and I’m inspired by her optimism. I was also inspired by her friend who came with her. Also a domestic violence survivor, Alice almost died in the trauma unit of Maun hospital after her husband beat her up. Today, she’s supporting others going through what she did.

Later that same day, I would encounter someone who wasn’t quite as strong, by struggling to get out of her situation.

As I sat in the WAR office, early in the afternoon, I heard voices shouting over the police radio in the office.

“… emergency call… *static*… attempted rape… *static*… victim in site… *staic*… We got a call about a disturbance by the Old Maun bridge, a rape in progress, we’re pursuing them now… the perpetrator is wearing red pants…”

Was this really happening? It’s the middle of the day. Is this a drill? I was in partial disbelief. Mpho quickly walked out of her office, grabbed the walkie-talkie, locked her door and told me to come with her. Is this part of the job? I couldn’t believe I was actually going to the scene with her. “You have to see all aspects of our work. Let’s go.”

“…*static*… by the bridge… *static*… we have the victim and perpetrator in custody…”

“Women Against Rape is on the way.”

“Danki, Mma.”

We arrived at the police post in the neighborhood where the incident occurred. I was confused by the snippets of the story vocalized from the room beside me. A police officer telling her she shouldn’t be playing games, and two witnesses saying she better not ask for help next time. “He couldn’t have been throwing it at her playfully. Look at her shorts.”

What’s going on? Why’s the door open? Should I be privy to this information? What happened?

This 20-year-old woman and her boyfriend, also the father of her child, were walking along the river near the old bridge. She received a text message that upset him. After asking questions about it, and not happy with the answers, he pushed her to the ground, tugging at her shorts and hitting her. The evidence of the situation is clear with cow dung and mud all over the back of her clothes and handprints on his shoulders as she tried to push him off. He continued hitting her and screamed for help. Three witnesses both heard her and saw what was going on. They called the police.

Once it custody, she didn’t want to make a case of it. She claimed they were just playing a game. Even after some nudging and probing from Mpho and the police, she stuck to her story, despite the witnesses, the screams and clear evidence. The cops, Mpho and the witnesses were not too happy that they were all trying to help her and now she didn’t want it, claiming they were just playing. They were both charged a fine of P50 for causing a disturbance.

She’s unemployed, they’re a couple, and he’s the father of her child. Who knows what the situation is. She could be afraid to lose her child, to lose her boyfriend’s financial support for the child, afraid of a court case, weary of the public attention. For perhaps the first time in her situation, she screamed for help, but she didn’t feel empowered enough to follow through.

Mpho encouraged both of them to come to counseling. She said she would come by on Monday, but her boyfriend claimed to be too busy. He also seemed drunk or perhaps high as he waltzed out of the place, pulling her by the wrist as she smiled complacently.

Her struggle has only begun, and if she comes on Monday, perhaps WAR can help her.

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When we got back to the office, there were two young men waiting to meet with Mpho. After they met, the two of them waited outside for a ride as I was loading up some things in the truck. “Ke bidiwa Kabo,” I said, introducing myself to one of them.

He looked at me with a face full of both surprise and delight, not only because I was speaking to him in Setswana, but also because I claimed to have a Setswana name. I told them where I was from, why I’m here, etc., and I learned a little about them. The boy I was first talking to just took his high school exams and failed, so he’s taking some extra classes to make up for that. I commended him on sticking with it and working hard, instead of giving up like many students do. The other has just started school at Maun tech. He’s studying secretarial work, but when I asked him to tell me his dreams, he told me he wants to run his own business someday.

Gofhaone spelled his name in the sand for me. Gothusang’s name was easier for me to understand since it means, “to help.” After a bit more small conversation, Gofhaone said, “I want to talk to you about Jesus.” He probably didn’t realize he was talking to a closet Jesus freak, and that he would be surprised with what I’m about to say.

“Jesus ke tsala yame,” I told him. “Jesus is my friend.”

“Jesus is your friend?” he inquired, in his thick Setswana accent.

“Yes. Let’s talk about tsala yame, Jesus. Jesus nna mo pelo yame.”

“Jesus lives in your heart?” he asked me, translating what I had just told him, again both surprised and delighted. “Do you teach others about God? Do you talk about God every day?”

“I do the work of God by working with WAR.”

“I don’t understand. That’s not the same.”

I tried to explain my perspective, as I thought about my morning in court, and my afternoon rushing to the police post. I told him that God created each of us in God’s image, and God has a unique plan for each person. More than anything, I believe God wants us to be ourselves through every trait the Spirit manifests in us, to live as whole human beings like God created us to be and to live to our full potential as people.

Women and children who have been raped, beaten or abused are broken by those who perpetuate violence. They have been robbed of the strength and dignity that would allow them to live to their full potential. The God in them has been suffocated by their perpetrators. WAR empowers these people to live fully and helps them to regain the power that was taken from them.

“WAR empowers people, and that’s the work of God” I told this young man outside of the office. He replied with “I never thought of it that way. Thanks for the new perspective.”

So I finally asked Gofhaose and Gothusang, “if you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here?”

They looked at each other, a bit sheepish, then said to me “A friend of ours was raped… we wanted to know how we could best support her.”

I was so moved that these boys cared enough to seek out WAR. It was also one of many signs of the breadth of their outreach in the community and their presence in the school systems.

We took the boys home, had heartwarming conversations with both of them on the way, and then went to the Shelter where I’ve been staying these past few days during my Site visit. A temporary home for abused women and children, the facility just opened a few months ago. Currently, there are only three people living there, Baboletse, the social worker, and two teenage girls, Koketso and Kedibonye.

Cousins, daughters of single mothers, both of their parents died. In custody with their Uncle, he became abusive, so they ended up at the Shelter. My first day there, they were quite reticent and didn’t speak to me very much. The next day, I thought of trying to break the wall down with music. I opened my laptop, and put on my iTunes as they slowly gathered next to me. I asked them about musicians they like and which American artists they know. They say they like hip hop and R&B, so they started to open up as we listened to Missy Elliot and Lauryn Hill.

We chatted for a bit about school, and they started teaching me some Setswana. Later, we cooked dinner together, continuing the conversation, and I taught them how to make mashed potatoes from scratch, as they listened intently and followed step by step, laughing and smiling throughout the process.

Kedibonye disappeared the next day, ran away. They’ve only been living there for a few weeks, and apparently she’s been a bit of a problem. Last weekend, for example, she lied about having an activity at school, when she was really going to her boyfriend’s place. On the day she disappeared, Mpho and I took her to school for some exams and asked the teacher to call Mpho when they were done. The teacher never called, and by the time we went back to the school, no one was there. A couple days later, no one knows where she is.

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I’m thrilled to be a part of the wide variety of work that WAR does. They provide referrals and financial assistance when a client needs to hire a lawyer, have developed great relationships the police officers and other leaders in the community, are developing systems for their new Shelter, have youth empowerment clubs for HIV and Gender-Based Violence Education all over the country, created Students Against Rape chapters throughout WAR and spreading through Botswana, have great counseling resources and are launching program to better education men in the community on how they can help stop violence against women and children.

My main project is running GLOW (Girls and Guys Leading Our World), the youth empowerment clubs and the annual GLOW camp in December. Beyond that, I have several months to figure out exactly what my numerous projects will be. Mpho seems like a great manager, and has already encouraged me to dig in to any project I would like and find ways to support all of the different programs I can. The rest of the staff are a kind, intelligent, good-hearted and passionate group of people, who I am looking forward to working with.

I cried at the end of the day Friday as I started to write some of these stories. I took in a lot in my few days of a visit to Maun, meeting the staff, hearing countless stories, and experiencing parts of the work. It is, however, this type of emotionally intense work that I’ve been looking for. Yet again, I got exactly what I asked for. I get to work with this incredible organization for the next 2 years.

Life is beautiful.