Gender-based violence in the epoch of Covid-19: South Africa’s shadow pandemic

“Over the past few weeks, no fewer than 21 women and children have been murdered”.

ON JUNE 17 the president appeared on our screens from the Union Buildings as usual. We were all waiting to hear what he would say.

Since the national lockdown started on March 26, President Cyril Ramaphosa has been a regular on our screens, updating the nation on the government’s response to the coronavirus pandemic.

Unlike many of his Covid-19 speeches, the June 17 one was different. “Fellow South Africans”, his catchphrase, was missing.

I was one of the millions glued to the screen to listen to the president. Twenty-two minutes into his speech, I saw his face cringe. This was unlike him.

I had, since the lockdown, seen the president as a concerned yet resolute man. I had seen him carry the burden of Covid-19 on his shoulders, yet when speaking, he would speak hope to the nation.

But on June 17 I saw him flinch. How can a man remain resolute when he has two pandemics to talk about in one speech?

The president would dedicate the remaining 13 minutes of his address to talk about an issue he described as another pandemic bedevilling the country: the killing of women and children.

“Over the past few weeks, no fewer than 21 women and children have been murdered,” the president said. Sadly, men of this country continue to wage a war against women and children in the shadows of Covid-19.

Two days before the president’s Covid-19 address, ENCA had carried a headline that read “Gender-based violence on the rise”, with the subtitle, “Femicide nation”.

Since the lockdown, Gauteng province alone, as of mid-june had recorded no fewer than 5 015 gender-based violence (GBV) cases.

GBV is a perennial problem in South Africa. That it is rising under the cover of Covid-19 does not make it a new phenomenon. Covid-19 has only contributed to exposing an otherwise persistent challenge bedevilling our society.

Forbes magazine last year placed South Africa at the top of the Women’s Danger Index. According to reports, one in three women in South Africa is sexually attacked, two in five are beaten by their partners and half are sexually harassed at work. One in 15 is murdered by her partner and femicide is five times higher in South Africa than anywhere else in the world.

Last year, police recorded 443 387 rape cases over the past decade, with the year having the highest number, pegged at 41583, the highest in four years. In a period of 12 months between 2018 and 2019, approximately 2771 women were murdered.

While these statistics are staggering, it is worrisome that the problem might be understated, as cases of GBV are usually not reported.

Given the magnitude of GBV in this country, every concerned and responsible citizen is bound to ask: “Where are we getting it wrong as a country?”

If we are to fight GBV, we have to face some uncomfortable truths as a nation. We may set aside billions of rand, put up infrastructure, but as long as we remain a reactive nation, the scourge will continue. It is time we admit that we are generally a violent and broken society owing to the socio-economic milieu of our country.

Of course, studies have shown that there is a correlation between alcohol abuse and violence and as such we may be tempted to conclude that alcohol is the problem.

At face value, this might seem watertight. However, even alcoholism is not the problem, it is only used to drown a myriad of worries tearing society. The history of apartheid has bred a resentful society. Violent crimes are a product of deep-rooted bitterness and anger where the strong and mighty prey on the weak.

In an angry society, the weak become victims of displacement; this could be the story of our women.

They are not only physically weak, but socially and economically weak. Socio-economic vulnerability makes them dependant on men who can unleash their anger on them with reckless abandon.

GBV has to be understood not as an isolated form of violence, but as a part of the greater scheme of things. It has to be located in the wider context of the violent nature of our society.

It is ironic that in an aggrieved society such as ours where GBV is rife, those in the helping professions, social workers precisely, find themselves jobless.

No wonder they took to Twitter under the #employasocialworker movement, protesting against joblessness.

They lamented the deplorable situation they find themselves in where they are required to register with the SA Council for Social Service Professions, pay for their practising licences, yet they are unemployed.

While the world battles with a health pandemic whose war is won in laboratories, South Africa is under siege from another pandemic that is thriving in the shadow of Covid-19.

It is a pandemic that is everywhere on the social front, in homes and the workplace, in schools and in churches.

Kan Kanjiri is a University of Fort Hare Social Work graduate. He writes in his personal capacity