Village Justice

I thought I was going to witness a hanging in broad day light.

The day started out like any other Sunday, and by midday I was walking to Ketchyme for mango juice. After making my purchase I decided to walk to the village centre for something to do.  A small child came up to me and touched my hand and turned to give his group of friends a triumphant smile. He had toughed the muzungu and I had not stolen his skin. Sigh...when did I, Kirsten Cotter, become the Boogey-man? So with my entourage of two year olds, we continued walking to the main street.

Surprisingly the trading post was in an uproar, a crowd 10ft deep and equally wide of children, adults and elders had gathered in the middle of the street.  A fight broke out on one side between two men and they fell to the ground amongst laughter and screams as they strangled and fiercely hit each. Unaware of the commotion, the other side of the group forced a man to the ground and the crowd began to kick, hit and whip him with rope.

I  wondered whether I should get in there and help this man or watch what happens.  In Canada we prefer the legal system to vigilante or village justice, but as a Canadian in Uganda, I doubted the people here would care what Canadians thought. I looked for someone I knew and spied a female student I had taught. “What is going on?” I asked. Through a combination of broken English and Lugandan she told me the man had raped someone. “Her,” she said “...the one in the blue t-shirt.”  I looked over and saw a girl, no older than 14 on the outskirts of the enraged crowd, her face still as stone and twice as unreadable.

The man was finally hoisted to his feet by 6 men. He was in his late 20’s and of average height and a slender build. His hands were bound in a yellow rope resembling a noose.  Each of the men took their turn yelling a snippet of  a reprimand at the young man and slapping him, some men were very angry, others seemed almost teasing. With a combination of shaking, dragging and dragging they moved him 10 metres into a nearby house and shoved him inside. No one but the 6 men and the rapist went inside the house and the crowd quickly dispersed. What happened next inside the house is anyone’s guess.  

Rape is common in Uganda; over 50% of women experience some form of sexual violence in their lifetime. One morning at breakfast I was looking at the paper and a picture of an obese woman in an itty bitty bikini caught my attention. There were several young men in the water with her and one was trying to pull her bikini bottoms off.  Turning to Carolyn I said “I am dying to know what is going on in this picture.” She looked at the picture and quickly read the article. “Those men were trying to rape her,” She said. “Why is it is the paper?” I asked.  She told me rapists often went without punishment in Uganda and the only way to get legal intervention by the government was to get publicity from a newspaper.