Are we becoming desensitised to brutality? Moreover to murder?
A story still lingers in my head.
Quite recently, a son murdered his mother, because she plead with him not to hit his girlfriend.
Now his girlfriend ran and hid after he had assaulted her, but eventually went home because the baby was crying most night.
According the reports he didn’t continue hitting her, in fact he put ointment on her wounds.
The dual side of an abuser, a monster and very caring too.
He locked the doors and they stayed in there all night.
In the morning his mother comes to plead with him about beating up his girlfriend who is also the mother of his 11 month old baby.
He was said to have stormed out and started hacking her with a panga (machete).
His girlfriend, when he opened the door ran away.
Now I want to redirect the story to his girlfriend.
Upon the slightest opportunity, she ran for her life.
So for an entire night, she must have been violently terrified to even be in the same room as this man.
Could she see the murder weapon in her sight? Was she careful to not say the wrong thing or move the wrong way or she would get chopped?
Think of the horror she endured with this man, not only on this fateful night, but every night when he was angry at her for some perceived wrong.
Imagine how many women are kept hostage every night by their abusers.
How many stories have we heard of women murdered?
What is our reaction now? Anger? Pity?
Here is the thing though, we have become desensitised.
Murder in Namibia, is just part of the day.
Doesn’t shock us anymore.
We are not angry enough to make a difference.
We are more curious in the details of the murder, than we are in justice for the murdered.
Which brings me to the point of accusation.
We, all of us have become accessories in the killing of these women.
We are on-looking murderers.
Because none of us cry no more.
It’s like we are silently condoning crime.
I don’t care what you say in whispers or the prayers you send upwards for victims.
But your silence, our silence has made us passive murderers, we are contributing to the killing of these women.
So for every woman that dies… I declare that her blood just as much lies in your hands as it does in the murderers hands.
Cause we don’t do enough.
We don’t cry enough.
We aren’t angry enough.
We don’t strike enough.
We don’t boycott enough.
We don’t demand for justice enough.
We don’t challenge the status quo enough.
We don’t provide enough counselling for angry men.
We don’t provide enough safe havens for abused women.
We haven’t done enough to safe the next victim.
We wait like hungry vultures for the next corpse.
We just don’t walk in their shoes enough to understand, to understand their fears.
Is this who we’ve become?
Murderers, all of us.
By Elsarien Katiti