An anecdote on the ugliness of our helplessness in dealing with GBV.

The word Sorry has become such a misused and exploited word. You do something knowing very well the consequences and after the deed, you apologise. It is that easy, I guess. Mistakes do happen and apologies are made. But when the same person repeats the same mistake over and over again, it becomes a choice and the apology sounding like a stuck DVD, is insincere. When fully grown adults repeat the same undesirable behaviour and say the word, sorry, one more time, I feel abused, cheated and angry. When is a promise a promise worthy of honoring? 

Five months ago in July 2012, one of the workers, M, who live and work within our compound beat his wife, G, also an employee. We had a meeting with S the Supervisor and we expressed our dislike of one human being battering another, no matter the circumstances. M said he was sorry and promised that he would never do it again. I cautioned him that violence was against my very core as a human being. 

Fast forward to Dec 2012, M, beats again G, who is now 4 months pregnant. G misses four days of work because of the beating and M, tells me that G is sick because of the pregnancy. As we were at a client's place, I advised M, that it was not an issue I wanted to discuss then and we would discuss it at a later, more suitable time.

Meanwhile, I am completely enraged and decide to cool down for some weeks whilst I decide on a plausible course of action besides firing M. 

Eventually, I muster the courage to be 'reasonable' about an unreasonable situation and I call both M and G who are both on leave but present in my quarters to come for a meeting. I ask M what happened and he says it was not a beating. G maintains it was. I remain calm, for a bit. Then all of a sudden I completely loose all my marbles. I find myself outside of my skin looking at the performance of whatever bodily remains represented myself. M realises that this is serious and he says he is Sooooorrry. Again!

I climb back into my body, trying to maintain my composure and ask the perpetrator of the abuse to explain to me what it is that a fully grown adult capable of making a woman pregnant cannot discuss verbally and resolving without resorting violence. M, remains quiet. I ask if I am talking by myself and he mutters a faint and limp no.

I advise G to assess her options as a woman and think hard about the wisdom of choosing a life of violence having made it clear to them earlier that no self respecting person causes grievous bodily harm to another person they refer to as their loved one. G, stares at me. I do not know where it was stare of disbelief or surprise or she had just had her aha moment.

I confirm then, what I have always known, what I always feared, that it is unfair and unjust to impose my will on others, particularly those in a position of less power and influence than myself. G tells me that she is still unwell. I give her money to visit the clinic for a check up. I advise the couple to pack their bags and look for alternative accommodation elsewhere because I never want to have this conversation with them again on my premises. If they still want to work, they are welcome to, but I would be damned if I were to continue to have gender based violence (GBV) taking place within my compound.

They left yesterday and are both due to report to work on the 21st. So why am I still angry and outraged? Why do I feel violated when I am not the survivor of the violence? 

I believe I know the reason. It's my sense of helplessness that ushers in the rage. There was no lasting solution to the GBV. As a person raised by men in my family who admired, cherished, affirmed and dearly and unconditionally loved the girl child, I am at odds to understand GBV. It makes my temper flare up in a manner that scares me. I am, however delighted that I am not a gun totting and panga wielding person, otherwise, I would not have been responsible for my actions, particularly, that time, when I stepped out of my skin for a bit.

I feel helpless because there are no lasting solutions for women who are survivors of GBV. I personally do not believe in half way homes for the women. When they are reintegrated back into society, the societal and familial pressures force them to go back to their abuser. He is your husband, they remind them. To many people in this part of the world, marriage is an accomplishment and an achievement that must be aspired for. Most importantly, when women are poor, vulnerable and not economical empowered enough to be self sustaining for themselves and their children, not only do they make bad decisions, the basket of choices from which they can consider various options is just not available to them. So they stay and the GBV continues unabated.

I believe I made a stand, a selfish stand. I chose not to see and entertain GBV in my compound. That is all I chose to do, for now. I do not want to deal with it. It is time wasting and emotional draining on my part. I do not want to continue footing health bills associated with the GBV including their already compromised health. GBV in my compound is a distraction for me and interrupts my social and business life. I am fully aware that the posture I have taken is as ugly as the GBV itself. I have taken this posture for my personal sanity and self-preservation. In this incident involving M and G, the GBV is likely to worsen because the forced eviction from my free accommodation and other amenities is going to lead to an erosion of their economic circumstances and therefore the fights are going to escalate. I am unable to stop it and I know third time around, the GBV incident will be presented on doorstep of my compound. When that time comes, I will terminate both their employment. I believe it is easier to deal with GBV when the perpetrator and the survivor do not have a connectedness with your social (living in my compound) and business (M works as one of my valued welders/painters and G is a valued cleaner at the lifestyle centre) life.

Yes, GBV is one of the reasons why I find the S word overused, fickle and insincere. The human race has made phenomenal advances in science and technology and yet we still do not know how to live side by side with each other peacefully as human beings. I rest my case.