"I just paid the money," she told me as she twisted her hands and stared down at them. I was immediately flabbergasted and almost shaking with anger, frustration, and sadness.
One of my wonderfully dedicated but extremely timid SOLID members who I began working with last year had been facing trouble at home. Following our graduation from the program in May, she'd been attending meetings less and less. I assumed it was because she lives 2.5 miles away from our meeting place, and that she was probably busy at home. Then one day I ran into her at the health center. She had a large cut on her forehead and was filling a police report. I refrained from snooping in her business.
Then, about 2 weeks ago, she showed up to our weekly training. After we finished, she approached me and apologized for being absent so much. She explained that her husband had been abusive (the gash on her face had been from him) and that she had applied for a separation from him. She didn't ask me for anything, but she explained how he had taken everything from their home and left her in an empty house. He has also taken one of their children-the other remaining with her. He'd even taken her chitenje that I'd given to all of our volunteers at our graduation. But at least he was gone to a different home. The problem now was she was left trying to come up with 20,000 kwacha (the equivalent of about $40) which is about 8-10 weeks worth of pay here. She was supposed to pay this to the Chiefs for some reason unbeknownst to me but something along on the lines of because SHE had wanted a separation from HIM. She had come up with half of the money, but was remaining with 10,000. Sensing that this issue was deeply complex, culturally sensitive, and might involve some corruption, I called over my counterpart and asked for his advice. He advised her to go to the Boma and go to court-that she SHOULD NOT pay the remaining 10,000 kwacha to the Chiefs. When she said she didn't have money for transport to get there, I gladly offered her the $1.50 transport costs. She said she would go the next day. I told her she could come stay with me if she didn't feel safe or if she needed anything. I couldn't believe the situation. Why was she, the one wanting to separate from her abusive husband, being forced to pay a massive fee while he had taken everything from her?!
One week later....
She showed up to another meeting. We asked if she had gone to court. 'No, my brother is coming next week,' was her response. Maybe she was scared. Maybe she was intimidated. But she waited for him despite our encouraging her to go to the court to settle the matter.
Another week later..
This brings us to today. She showed up again to our meeting. At the end, I again asked her if she'd gone to court. Nope. Her brother had arrived yesterday and given her the remaining money, and she had given it to the Chiefs. I felt anger welling up inside me. WHY?! I wanted to shout. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hit something. The injustice in it all! I looked around for my counterpart in hopes that he could help me understand the situation better. I saw him chatting with Chiefs who had just come from a funeral. I asked her who she'd paid the money to. I was going to talk to them, to fix this, to get justice and fairness. I would use my 'mzungu power' to do all I could to right this situation. Then I realized that who she'd paid the money to was standing there talking to my counterpart. I was literally shaking from anger at this point. I took a few deep breaths and said, 'I'm going to talk to the chief, do you want to come?' She shrugged yes.
I fierce-fully strutted over to the Chiefs. Plastering a half smile on my face and kindly greeting them was all I could manage. Trying to limit the anger in my voice, I asked if I could speak to them privately. We convened in the health center and began to unravel the story. I asked the chief was he knew of the situation. He said that her husband had been cruel to her and that they separated the two of them. Not having mentioned the money part of it all, I tried to ask about it in a way that wasn't necessarily attacking the chief with accusations, and I halfway succeeded. Eventually, my counterpart intervened and helped to calm the tension and explain what might have been getting lost in translation. They all discussed in Chichewa for awhile with me understanding about half of what was going on. I sat next to the woman and put my hand in hers. I couldn't tell if she was shaking too.
What came out of it all was that she and her husband had met with the Chiefs as a type of 'village trial.' They were the ones she had paid the money to as some sort of fee for the trial (why it was her and not her former husband, I still don't understand!!) There was some corruption at the police office. Something along the lines of her former husband had probably tipped someone off to destroy the police report she had filed. The Chiefs complained that they hadn't gotten the whole story about what had happened between the two of them. Their solution was that they were going to start the trial over fresh, taking any and all steps to ensure that they followed all protocol and understood everything. If they start anew, everything prior would be invalid, my counterpart explained. So, I pressed them, "so WHEN will she receive her money back?" They assured me that she would receive a refund of her money but that they first needed to discuss things with the group village headman (the top-dog of them all). I assured them that I would be following up with her and them to make sure things were being taken care of fairly and that she got her money back.
Even though I know that these types of gender issues (unfortunately) happen all the time here in rural villages in Malawi, this one was close to me. It involved my colleague and my friend. I watched this lady commit and push through our SOLID training despite her lack of proficiently with English and was so impressed when she passed our final exam. It's so difficult to see these kinds of things happen right beneath your nose and to know that this is not an isolated case. How many women go through this-not just the abusive relationships, but corruption and injustice and complacency about it all because they feel powerless?! It's absolutely heartbreaking. I have to remind myself though that this is why I'm here, but that there's only so much I can do. These are the issues that people face and I can only do MY best to prevent them or empower the people they affect. Though I might not be able to help empower all of the women or push for fairness in all of the situations, I feel lucky that I can use my small amount of power as a foreigner to at least try to help this one.
One at a time, I remind myself.