Jabu, ever so hungry - Swazilandby James Hall Her slight build and quiet demeanour belie a quick mind that has been only slightly dulled by the trauma she has undergone. Ten-year-old Jabu speaks with sadness and a touch of shame. This girl exhibits heartbreaking vulnerability. Yet, against all odds, she projects a will to survive. She knows what she has to do – find a safe place where there is enough food to eat. Her frailty is most likely due to lack of food, which has stunted her. Jabu’s story illustrates the effect food shortages have on children in Swaziland. Hunger makes abusive situations worse, nurturing conditions in which abuse can thrive. In dire poverty, the sexual abuse of a little girl, however outrageous, can become secondary to the ever-present danger of starvation. Jabu lives in one of the worst slums on the outskirts of Manzini. “I am ten years old and in grade four. I enjoy school immensely. My favourite subjects are English and Mathematics. I was at the top of my class last year. There is rarely any food in our house and I am often hungry. My father died when I was so young I do not remember him. My mother works at a factory in Mbabane. She brings home money at the end of the month, when they pay her. But she has a boyfriend, and she gives all the money to him. There is none left for food. My mother often goes to our neighbour’s to ask for rice or mealie meal. I never have milk or fruit. Sometimes we have vegetables. Occasionally, on a special day and if my mother has money, she will bring me a piece of Kentucky fried chicken. There is no electricity where we live. We collect water from the tap in our neighbour’s yard. My mother sent me to grandfather’s place in Lobamba to get some mealie meal. I was sleeping with my younger cousin when my uncle came into the hut. It was a dark night. He pulled our blanket off, and this woke me up. He removed my clothes and got on top of me. He put his ‘thing’ in me and I felt the worst pain ever. I screamed. My cousin kept quiet. I could not see her. I shouted. Nobody came to help me. When he was finished, my uncle left. I asked my cousin to go with me to grandfather’s hut. She refused, claiming she was afraid of the dark. I could not sleep because of the pain. There was wetness between my legs and I could smell blood. In the morning I told my grandfather that I had to go to the hospital because I was in a lot of pain. He and grandma asked me what was wrong and I told them what my uncle had done. I heard them talking to him. They were both very angry with him. “You did the same to your sister, and she had to go away. Now you have done this to the little one. This time we must call the police,” they told him. The police came and took me to hospital. I remember it was on a Friday and I had to miss school. The police took me home to my mother. I did not bring the mealie meal she was expecting. My mother was angry. She did not want to hear what had happened to me. She closed her ears. She was more concerned with the fact that I did not bring home the mealie meal. She was so angry she beat me. She did not care about my pain. On Monday I went to school and my teacher could sense something was wrong. She wanted to know where I was on Friday. I told her I went to hospital because of what my uncle had done to me. Even though she said I needed counselling, my teacher was afraid to help me. Once when she had tried to help a girl who had been abused, the girl’s family threatened her. The male nurse would not let me walk. He said it was far. He carried me on his shoulders all the way to the counsellors’ across the river. He was a very kind man. I want to live in a halfway house. Is there one where I can go to and never go home again? I want to live in a place where there is food. At home I go hungry. Where I live, men get drunk and rape people all the time.” Shortly afterwards, Jabu was transferred to a halfway house, where she now eats regularly, receives the medical treatment she needs, and just as important as far as she is concerned, continues with her studies.
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