EDITORIAL: Complicit in our silence

They say it takes a village to raise a child. Extra fathers and mothers to pick me up when I fall, to correct me when I’m wrong and to help my little feet find the right path.

As I get older, the village thins out.

When I’m caught smoking or drinking or doing other things teenagers shouldn’t be doing, very few speak up.

We call them ‘busy bodies’.

The aunty who “just can’t mind her own business”, the uncle who always has one eye on the street beyond his living room window. Watching, always watching.

By the time I’m an adult, my village has all but disappeared.

When my neighbours hear my husband beating me half to death for the third weekend in a row, they look the other way.

When the entire community knows my father has been molesting me for years, they say it’s a “family matter”.

When I steal from my government job, they pretend not to notice my overnight wealth. That is – until what they know can land them a piece of the pie.

What happened to my village? Where did they all go?

Your silence in the face of wrongdoing won’t save me. And it won’t spare you either.

Angela Davis said it best: “If they come for me in the morning, they will come for you in the night”.