The walk to
school can be dangerous in Karamoja. In this region of northeastern
Uganda, one of the poorest in the East African country, marriages can
begin with a man abducting a woman, raping her and keeping her captive
at his house until it is unacceptable for her to return to the life she
had.
Girls on their way to school are a target.
“Most children drop out of school when
their mothers cannot always escort them. Other mothers, out of fear,
stop sending their girls to school,” says Christine Akello, from the
Uganda Association of Women Lawyers in Karamoja.
It is why Gloria Nakong became a home-
help when she was seven. Nakong’s sister, her guardian since their
father died, thought such a job would keep her safe. So, she helped
other children get ready for school, babysat, cooked, cleaned and
carried containers of water three times her weight.
Eventually her family raised the money to send her to Kangole Girls’ boarding school.
“Had that not happened, Nakong would
have a different childhood: at 12, she would have worn beads around her
neck and colourful skirts; shaved part of her head and got [tribal
markings on her skin]. She would have learned the songs and dances of
her people in celebration of a ‘beautiful culture’,” says Monica Alany, a
young Karimojong woman.
At 15, she would be expected to move out of her parents’ hut into a communal one for girls.
“We, the Karimojong people, like our
culture – whether good or bad,” Alany says. “It is in these huts that
girls are raided and forced to have sex in the night. If the boys fail,
they wait for the girl on her way to school or the market.”
“Even though the community does not
protect the girls from rape, the boys of the household beat the girls
when they find out that they ‘allowed’ [themselves] to be raped.”
Alany’s mother hid her at a Catholic mission to keep her safe.
“Courtship rape” is commonplace, says Akello.
“Many women who are married are
survivors of courtship rape and believe that men have a right to rape
them as a sign of affection or expression of interest,” she says. In
some cases, family members hold women down or help plot the abduction.
Alice Nakiru was 20 when a friend of the
family broke into her house, dragged her to his home and raped her
repeatedly. He kept her for days. She screamed and begged but no one
came to her rescue.
“That is how I became his wife,” says
Nakiru, now 32, as she stirs porridge at
home in Karamoja. “I moved from looking after my grandmother and uncles
to looking after my husband and these children.”
Nakiru dropped out of school when her
mother died. After the youngest of her uncles got married and no longer
needed Nakiru’s housekeeping, he arranged for her abduction.
“Everyone gets married like that,” she
says. “Even the policeman you would report to also took a woman and made
her his wife by force.”
Nakong says the future must look different and all girls must go to school to avoid “the injustice of rape”.
“School is the only place where, as a girl, you can feel safe,” she says.
For 60 years, Kangole Girls’ boarding school in Moroto, run by Catholic nuns, has been a sanctuary.
“We open our school to the community and
reach those girls who would be left out of school. We talk to their
parents and encourage them to bring the girls to school, where they can
be safe and have food to eat. By talking to parents, we ensure that the
girl who would have stayed home, got married and not received an
education gets an education and a better future,” says headteacher
Sister Emma Wachira.
Former pupil Joyce Namoe works for the
World Food Programme. She escaped a forced marriage at 19, and now
oversees the school meals programme.
A girl would come to the gate with Karimojong warriors and male relatives at her heels, Namoe says.
“The moment the men would see the
headmistress standing at the gate waiting for the girl, they would turn
back, and the girl was safe”. “Today, many girls have gone to school,
but they are still subjected to courtship rape. A girl from Karamoja is
not expected to fall in love. You marry whoever your family chooses.”
Gloria Nakong's school closed
Ugandan law prohibits child marriage,
but more than a third of girls are married before 18. In eastern Uganda,
the rate is more than 50 per cent. Laws upholding customary and
religious marriages for girls under 18 were declared unconstitutional in
February. Covid school closures lasted almost two years in Uganda, a
precarious time for girls who were lured into sex for food or clothing.
“If they refused, they were threatened
with violence and defiled,” Akello says. “Women are regarded as having
low value. Legal provisions are inadequate and do not fully protect
women and girls, and poverty means many of them cannot access legal
services.”
During the pandemic, which began when Nakong was 13, village men saw an opportunity.
“The warriors started coming for me,”
she says. “I stayed at home in fear and never went out. I prayed that
the schools reopen so that I could resume my studies, be sure of school
meals and be safe from the men. I never wanted to be like other girls
who were raped and married off.”
Speaking out against the practice is
taboo and the custom thrives in silence in the sprawling Karamoja hills.
Michael Aboneka, a lawyer who has successfully sued the government for
failing to protect the rights of women, thinks it will take more than
having girls in school to end courtship rape.
“A woman ends up in a forced marriage
with 12 children instead of studying and working to make her life
better,” he says. “The law against such injustices must become more
deterrent because what we have is clearly not enough.”
Nakong wishes never to return to her village.
“There are so many dangers out there,”
she says. “I survived the warriors and now I am working hard to become a
lawyer because I want to give people justice. I want to fight for the
girl child.”
This story was first published by The Guardian, UK.
