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01 December 2020 | Story Bonolo Mahlatsi | Photo Supplied
Bonolo Mahlatsi is a master’s student in Sociology at the University of the Free State.

South Africa finds itself dealing with a pandemic within a pandemic. On 11 November, President Cyril Ramaphosa declared five days of mourning for victims of COVID-19 and gender-based violence, from 25 to 29 November 2020. Many see it as a bold move and as a win for efforts to address gender-based violence, but it is rather disappointing. Ironically, the mourning period falls within the 16 days of activism against GBV. 

Almost daily we mourn the lives of women lost at the hands of men. However, now that we are living in unfamiliar territory, we also mourn the lives lost due to COVID-19. Both are pandemics with different characteristics facing the country. The major difference is that COVID-19 is new and in some ways beyond our control. GBV, on the other hand, did not just emerge overnight. It is the symptom of patriarchy that is intentionally designed and reinforced by systems and people to preserve the dominance of men at the expense of women and gender non-conforming people. 

The President’s announcement makes GBV a shadow pandemic compared to COVID-19, even though GBV has claimed more lives, created more disruption, and lasted much longer. 

South African culture allows GBV and often encourages it

We need to unmask the fact that GBV exists as a pandemic because South African culture allows it and often encourages it. A recent case in the Free State shows this. A police captain at the Mafube police station was recently arrested for revictimising a rape survivor while he was conducting his ‘investigation’. He further manipulated the perpetrator’s girlfriend into having sex with him by promising to release her boyfriend on bail. This officer was still allowed to work in the Family Violence, Child Protection and Sexual Offences (FCS) Unit, despite having a trail of rape accusations against him. It further shows the indifference of the police and systems that should be enforcing law and order, not violating it. Mourning GBV alongside COVID-19 sends a message to the captain in Mafube police station and many other perpetrators that GBV will always be secondary and not important enough to have special impactful efforts directed at it.

Can’t treat them the same 

We can’t treat the two pandemics in the same way – one noticeable difference is how we have treated them in terms of reporting and response time. The COVID-19 response was fast, awareness was created quickly and effectively, government accountability has improved. More active and robust digital and media strategies are also being used to keep the public informed and to fight the spread of COVID-19. All these are strategies that should have been adopted long ago in the fight against GBV, particularly the sensitisation and awareness strategies. 

My concern is that, after the GBV mourning period, it will be back to business as usual. Women will still be violated and live in fear. Furthermore, the mourning period takes five days away from the activism period, which I find to be a way of shifting the focus away from GBV. We have also seen from previous years that the situation on the ground still remains unchanged after the activism period. For instance, statistics revealed by the South African Police Service (SAPS) showed that a woman is murdered every three hours in South Africa; an alarming rate, which is higher than the global average.

COVID-19 presented an opportunity

Fortunately, or unfortunately, COVID-19 has presented us with an opportunity to reconfigure and redesign our society to be safe for everyone. It is time that we address the lack of sensitivity towards GBV, especially because there is no society free of it. Interventions are needed to ensure that women do not return to the ‘normal’ of being violated. The underlying causes of GBV need to be addressed through response efforts supported by policy development. Most importantly, men’s attitudes towards women and girls need to transform, which will assist in stopping the perpetuating violence against women. If GBV was treated as the pandemic it is, women would not have to live in fear. If efforts could be put together to fight COVID-19, the same should apply to GBV. 

 

Opinion article by Bonolo Mahlatsi, master’s student in Sociology, University of the Free State.

News Archive

But do you forgive yourself, Eugene de Kock? asks Candice Mama
2015-03-16

From the left are: Prof Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, Candice Mama and Prof André Keet, Director of the UFS Institute for Reconciliation and Social Justice.
Photo: O'Ryan Heideman

 

Candice Mama: Audio

Candice Mama and her family met with her father’s assassin. Eugene de Kock. Prime Evil. Commander of the apartheid government’s covert Vlakplaas police unit. And what followed from this meeting was one of our country’s most poignant gestures of reconciliation. One by one, each family member expressed their forgiveness of De Kock, and soon afterwards, he was granted parole.

Candice recently visited the Bloemfontein Campus to talk about ‘An Unexpected Encounter with Eugene de Kock: A Journey of Transformation’. The event was a collaborative effort between the Institute for Reconciliation and Social Justice and Trauma, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation Studies.

“What makes it possible to cross the boundary from loss and pain to bond with the person who hurt you?” Prof Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, asked Candice. “I had to educate myself about the when, where, and how, to get a context for Eugene de Kock,” she answered. With the encouragement of her mother, Candice became an avid reader from an early age. She devoured information, so that she could build a picture of this man within a specific historical and political context. What also contributed to this moment of reconciliation for her was De Kock humbling himself and taking full responsibility for his actions.

This meeting was not without inner conflict for Candice, though. “Why am I crying for hím?” she asked herself as she listened to him speak. “Why am I laughing?” she chastised herself as De Kock preened shyly for a group photograph with the family. “Is there something wrong with me to connect with him?” She questioned her values and beliefs. But instead of a monster, Candice saw the true essence of a repentant human being.

But how do you know he didn’t fake it, many people asked. Because it was “one of the most sincere and honest encounters I’ve experienced,” she said. During their meeting, Candice saw a man “crushed by the world”. Everything he believed as a young man, he realised, was a lie.

“Do you forgive yourself?” Candice asked the one question De Kock feared most. And in that moment, he was humanised for her. “When you’ve done the things I’ve done,” De Kock replied, “how do you forgive yourself?”
It remains an open question. But this act of forgiveness gives an entire country hope.

 

For more information or enquiries contact news@ufs.ac.za.

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