Rape victims victimized twice over

By Young Hoy Kim Kimaro

Sometime in 2008, it was reported in the papers that a 13 year old girl who had been gang raped was publicly stoned to death in Somalia.

What terror that young child must have felt, facing a gang of youths with no possibility of escape for her. At their hands her inner self died that day.

She died for the second time, a crueler death, when she suffered torrential abuses from her family for bringing dishonor upon it. Nowhere could the wronged child find solace for her bruised body and soul.

Perhaps the barrage of stones that brought her the third and final death was a merciful one. Those stones put an end to the terror of the rape. Those stones obliterated her paralyzing fear of the consequences that awaited her. Those stones silenced her heart that was torn to shreds from her family’s denunciation of her. Yes, death probably was merciful. It freed her from all that. It gave her peace that was denied her in life.

As they wiped the dust off their hands, the men who threw the stones probably felt that they did what had to be done. They had to rid the society of impurity lest it contaminated others. They had to uphold and defend its morals. But did they? Can punishing the victim protect the society from the crime? Would jailing a woman who had her purse snatched from her in crowded market deter further muggings in its streets?

On Mount Kilimanjaro, such honor killings are not practiced. But the stories of rape victims may not differ much from the story of an old Turkish woman as it was reported on Al Jazeera.

When this woman was a young girl, three or four youths sneaked up on her when she was returning home from school. They gagged her, bound her hands and feet and carried her off to their friend who raped her. Fearing ostracization or worse if she returned home, she remained with her rapist and became his wife as he had intended.

That old woman, a mother of grown up children now, confessed on camera that she has been suicidal all her life and indeed had made several attempts to kill herself. She also confessed that to this day she harbors a deep hatred toward her husband who crushed her girlhood dreams.

Social workers familiar with victims of rape agree that suicide attempts and living in hate are typical of women who are forced to marry their violators. A social worker, herself a rape victim, adds “That’s condemning them to a living death.”

What about the children born of such union? Can she truly love them? Will not the hatred that lingers just below the surface taint her relationship with her children too?

On Mount Kilimanjaro, girls walking to and from school along narrow paths that cut through dense vegetation are particularly vulnerable. When girls come of age, their parents prefer them to be boarders at school.

Schools have awakened. They give preference to girl boarders and accept them even if it means one bed has to be shared by two or more girls! Parents are even willing to have their daughters sleep on the dorm room floor.

What if despite the social ostracization the girl returned home to continue with her normal life? Well, as normal as she can make it, that is. The terror of her rape will always haunt her, and every day she has to manufacture a brave face in an effort to pull through despite the odds.

What if, after a few months, she finds herself pregnant from the rape? She will probably be summarily dismissed from school. With that, her determined effort to reconstruct her life and make something of herself will be brought to an abrupt end. That’s a horrendous punishment exacted on a victim!

Shouldn’t every girl and woman who fall victim to rape have a chance to reclaim their lives and to be helped along the path toward healing without blame or shame? Should the quality of our mercy be so strained? Shouldn’t our societies discard its iron mask and take on a human face?

The writer resides on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro

in Tanzania. She worked for the World

Bank for nearly 30 years and her email is yhkimaro@

yahoo.com.