Protection: The traumas of a six year old by Ruth Ayisi Beira, Sofala Province - When her grandmother tells six-year-old Sara to greet her visitors, she approaches each person individually and shakes their hands, asking sweetly, “Qual é o teu nome?” (what is your name?). Sara has large eyes and when she smiles, she shows off charming dimples. There is little to suggest that she is not just a pretty, friendly, six-year-old with not many worries. Yet, nothing could be further from the truth. Celeste, Sara’s cousin, and a social worker with the Provincial Directorate for Women and the Coordination of Social Action, sends Sara off to fetch her best friend in one of the nearby shanty homes, and then takes the opportunity to tell Sara’s story. (The names of Sara and Celeste are pseudonyms to protect their privacy.) Celeste explains that two weeks ago her grandmother woke Sara, only to find her crying and bleeding. Sara’s grandmother adds, “She was so bad she could not walk. I had to carry her to the hospital. But I couldn’t find any doctors because it was a weekend.” Only three days later did a doctor officially examine Sara. But she had already told her grandmother frankly what their 14-year-old neighbour had done to her. “She is a bright girl and she told exactly how she had been raped,” says Celeste. Despite the fact that the mother of the youth threatens the family and wants the case withdrawn, the grandmother is determined to go through with it. Little research has been done in the area of child abuse, but existing data showed a grim picture of the reality many children are facing. The "Government Report on the implementation of the Convention on the Rights of the Child" cites a survey among minor sex workers in the capital, Maputo, in which 22 percent said their first sexual encounter had been violent and against their will. A close relative or a neighbour had abused them. Before, cases of rape were traditionally dealt within the community, but now after massive awareness campaigns about child abuse, supported by UNICEF, more people are taking such cases to the police. An increasing number of people are coming forward asking for legal and medical assistance following similar kinds of abuse. It has prompted the need to develop more guidance and material support for the authorities, public officials and even for the private institutions in the provinces and in the districts. Under the legal reform currently undertaken clear guidelines are being developed for those working to assist abused children and women at centers for victim assistance (centros de atendimento). UNICEF has assisted in the setting up of 21 of such counselling centers in all provinces, including Sofala, and police have been trained on how to do deal with such cases more sensitively. But Sara’s case will not be easy especially as the medical examination was carried out late and the perpetrator is a minor. The rape was another trauma in young Sara’s life, coming soon after losing her mother to HIV/AIDS last year. “Sara is frightened to venture far these days,” Celeste says. She is yet to receive counselling and her caretaker, the grandmother, is already overwhelmed. Besides Sara, her grandmother looks after an adult son who is deaf and suffers from severe epilepsy, and four other orphaned grandchildren. The grandmother’s five own daughters died, most probably from HIV/AIDS. The orphans live in two neighbouring dilapidated homes set in the midst of Munhava, an overcrowded, haphazardly built, sprawling suburb with problems of drainage, stagnant water and mud, situated in Beira, the provincial capital of the central province of Sofala. Sofala has the highest prevalence rate of HIV infections of all provinces with 26.5 per cent of the population aged 15 to 49 living with HIV/AIDS (latest available data from 2002), compared to the national average which is estimated having reached 14.9 per cent in 2004. When Sara’s mother got sick with HIV/AIDS-related illnesses, her father abandoned them. “The mother had a drinking problem, but she loved Sara so much. She was the only daughter,” says Celeste. “Sara would do everything for her mother. She would cook, clean and fetch water.” “During the last six months of her life, the mother was too sick and too ashamed to go out of the house. It was the problem of stigma,” says Celeste. “So, when she eventually died last November, first nobody knew. Sara was found alone inside the home with her mother’s dead, decomposing body. Sara had been there all day,” says Celeste. Her grandmother adds that Sara changed when her mother died. “She became quiet and would disappear.” Just as the conversation is closing Sara returns with a boy her age. “This is my best friend,” she says. They sit on the ground and start playing a game of tossing and picking up stones. Sara is losing and looking very serious. She concentrates hard to try to copy the boy’s nifty fingers. As she fondly watches Sara, 24-year-old Celeste says the other challenge is to get Sara enrolled into school next year. “I’m trying to help my family as much as I can. It is not easy. Sara is still very traumatized.”
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