Operation Gukurahundi victim survived state-sanctioned genocidal rape: “The men did whatever they wanted with my body”
In Siwale Camp, the soldiers dug pits in the ground where they slept. Yet, something more sinister took place in those trenches. That evening, a soldier approached us. He ordered all the young girls to enter the pits. If we did not, they threatened to shoot us.
- 9 months ago
February 18, 2024
Survivors of rape, supported by UNICEF and VDay, offered speeches telling their stories and calling for an end to violence against women. | Representative image shared with permission under the creative commons. Photo by Julien Harneis may be accessed on Flickr.
Trigger Warning: The following story contains a graphic description of sexual abuse and violence. It may not be suitable for some readers.
LUPANE, Zimbabwe ꟷ I went into shock when I heard the news that soldiers from Operation Gukurahundi assaulted my parents in their home, accusing them of sheltering dissidents. From my workplace in Bulawayo, 115 miles away, something felt very wrong.
With no telephones in the villages in the 1980s, word arrived from a friend who lived near my parents. He fled due to the upheaval. The “business as usual” approach by state media and newspapers only worsened my fear and confusion. They reported nothing. With my employer’s permission, I rushed home by bus to check on my mother and father.
[Operation Gukurahundi was launched by the Prime Minister of Zimbabwe in 1983. It sought to turn the country into a one-party state and to pacify the Zimbabwe African People’s Union. Using North-Korean-trained soldiers, the men went on a killing spree, murdering 20,000 people and spurring a genocide. When the United States threatened to stop sending aid if the barbarism continued, they changed tactics. Soldiers turned to detaining, torturing, and raping the people into submission. Today’s interview subject experienced the latter.]
Read more stories out of Zimbabwe at Orato World Media.
The soldiers from Operation Gukurahundi forced all the young girls into pits
When the bus neared my parent’s home, we skipped the first stop. The driver worried that soldiers may be waiting to interrogate people from the cities. At the next stop, I climbed off the bus. I saw Mr. Moyo, a man from our village who worked for the government.
As we began walking to our village, Mr. Moyo approached the trucks of soldiers nearby and asked for a lift. I took a ride with him and when we arrived at village 27, I found my parents. They told me what had befallen the district and advised me not to go anywhere. We were still in danger. At that moment, a local youth arrived with soldiers. They collected my information and required my attendance at “Pungwe” or a night vigil.
In fear, some of the other residents and I escaped to village 3. Yet, when we arrived a patrol of soldiers rounded us up and took me to the vigil anyway. Night vigils had become a common practice during the days of the liberation struggle against colonial rule. This scenario, however, felt different.
For visitors like me, the soldiers confiscated people’s national identity documents. They sought to indoctrinate us into the beliefs of the ruling party. I did not have my documents with me. Watching as they marched men, women, boys, and girls to the camp, I knew something terrible lay in wait.
In Siwale Camp, the soldiers dug pits in the ground where they slept. Yet, something more sinister took place in those trenches. That evening, a soldier approached us. He ordered all the young girls to enter the pits. If we did not, they threatened to shoot us.
After a month of being raped, young villager misses her period
The soldiers’ intent quickly became clear as they ordered us to have sex with them. With no options, I followed instructions. The men did whatever they wanted with my body. During that first rape, I lost my virginity and my innocence.
I could hear the crowd at the vigil still singing and chanting at gun point. Meanwhile, girls cried and bled all around me. They raped us without protection during a time when we knew little about HIV and AIDS. Nevertheless, we knew enough about sexually transmitted diseases [to fear these mass rapes]. The soldiers continued this horror, sleeping with different girls every night and every day. We became sex toys in their plan to repress our village.
No one explained why Operation Gukurahundi targeted our village; no evidence existed that dissidents came into the region. It felt more like a tribal attack powered by arms and the power of the state. When a girl refused sex, the soldiers put a sack over her head. They poured water over her face until she fainted. Once she passed out, the soldiers took turns raping her anyway.
With no option to return to the city, I endured the horror as soldiers threatened our parents with death. After a month passed, I began to feel sick and missed my period. Now pregnant, I had no idea who was the father of my child. Every day, the soldiers continued to sexually exploit us. I dared not point the finger at any of them regarding my pregnancy, lest I die.
The horrors exacerbated into astonishing brutality
I watched as soldiers continued to target teenage girls for sex and sexually exploit mothers with newborn babies. They forced siblings to have sex with each other at open meetings. In some cases, they tore open the tummies of pregnant women to “deal with unborn dissidents.” I watched it all: soldiers beating the private parts of an older woman, killing and dumping the bodies of villagers, and slicing a young girl with a bayonet for refusing to sleep with her brother. Many children were fathered by the soldiers at that time.
[Studies and extensive interviews with survivors have since concluded that the “patterns of rape and other forms of sexual violence… are indicative of a state policy of systematic genocidal rape… deployed with the intent and effect to destroy, in part, a specific ethnic group…”]
Looking back on that time, I remember young perpetrators abusing and harassing women the age of their own mothers. Today, I wish to forget. I do not want to remember this horror. I do, however, need redress. The government should apologize for what was done to my people. They should offer us a way to be employed.
[According to Amnesty International, the mass atrocities carried out upon the Ndebele people of Zimbabwe through Operation Gukurahundi left traumatized survivors grappling with statelessness. By locking many survivors out of citizenship, the victims of Operation Gukurahundi remain on the margins of society to this day. They struggle to access education, healthcare, and housing.]
