It had been months of longing, a persistent goal staring back at her each time she reviewed her 2024 resolutions—Move your body. Every time, it whispered to her, a reminder of a promise unfulfilled. Finally, one Sunday morning, she decided to take the leap. What better way to start than with a morning run? Even God would be proud of her. So, with a big smile, she put on her workout outfit, grabbed her phone, and set out, excited to begin what she had been dreaming of for months.
But then, in an instant, everything changed. A man appeared behind her, dragging her towards the nearest bush, while another man approached from the front. Her heart clung to a fleeting hope—surely, he wouldn’t let this happen. But they were in on it together. They took turns assaulting her, shattering her spirit. When she finally received help and made her way to the police station, the response was cold, “Madam thank God uko alive.” But was she really? A light had been dimmed. Her life would never be the same. She might never truly live again. She might never feel safe or be able to run again.
It’s haunting how, despite our differences—different hair colour, body structure, young or old, living in different cities or countries—many of us share the same story. It was a story where someone stared too long at our bodies, touched us inappropriately, and ignored our pleas to stop. The questions that follow are: What did I do to deserve this? Was my dress too short? Did I smile too much? Did I ask for it?—linger in our minds. We remember every detail: how they smelled, what they wore, where we were, the weather, and how we felt after the ordeal.
Every day, as I take hours to choose an outfit, fearing it might be too revealing, or rush home in the evening, wary of who could be lurking in the dark, I long for the day I will be free. The day I can run in the morning or stay out late without fear of harm.
This incident not only highlights the immediate dangers in certain areas but also underscores the systemic challenges in supporting survivors of sexual violence. The lack of compassionate police response and the insensitivity of emergency services raise serious concerns about the effectiveness of our current support structures.
As I reflect on this tragic event, I dream of a country where every individual feels secure and protected. We envision a Kenya where law enforcement officers are trained to handle survivors with the utmost compassion, ensuring their safety and dignity are prioritized. We need hospitals that provide timely and free medical care to all survivors of sexual violence without additional financial burdens. Our communities must be informed and alert, with public awareness campaigns that inform individuals about potential dangers and encourage vigilance.
While we work towards these goals, it’s crucial for the public to stay informed and cautious. This incident serves as a powerful reminder of the need for vigilance and proactive safety measures. Let us come together to advocate for a more responsive and supportive system for all survivors. The journey towards a safer, more just society requires collective effort and unwavering commitment. By addressing these gaps and pushing for systemic changes, we can work towards a future where everyone, regardless of gender or circumstances, can live without fear.
Judy Nganga is Amnesty International Kenya Public Communications and Engagement Officer and writes in her personal capacity. Email: [email protected]