Double trauma: The rough road rape survivors tread in the search for justice

When Mercy regained consciousness, the last thing she remembered was being at a party. She also remembered going out to get a pack of cigarettes at a nearby kiosk, accompanied by her boyfriend’s friend.

The rest, up until the moment she woke up to a nurse adjusting a drip on her hand, was a blur.

She would later come to learn that, hours after she had left for the shops, one of the revellers had found her sprawled by the fence, unconscious. Her jeans and underwear were pulled down to her knees.

It looked as if she had been drugged and raped. The suspect was not a stranger. “I even knew where he lived. We knew it was him because he never did return to the party,” she says quietly. “Unfortunately, we couldn’t prove it for sure; the medical examination had revealed some trauma but no traces of semen.”

Inept investigation

After leaving hospital, they went to Kilimani Police Station’s gender desk but were directed to record a statement at Kabete Police Station, which was within the jurisdiction of the crime scene. After recording a statement, they were told to go home, put Mercy’s underwear in a paper bag and keep it as evidence.

“My boyfriend gave the cops all the leads on where to find this guy, but the cops told us to alert them when the suspect was seen in the neighbourhood. It’s as if it was our duty to investigate. Two weeks later the suspect resurfaced and we called the police; they later said they’d chased after him but he’d gotten away.”

The weeks that followed were a never-ending nightmare of dealing with police officers, friends and family. “We kept calling the cops and they kept saying they were looking for him.”

The suspect was never arrested. Two months after the incident, Mercy gave up. “I just wanted it to end…” she shrugs.

“For starters, I was taking post-exposure antiretroviral drugs and was worried about the second test’s results. Secondly, everyone looked at me with pity, some with contempt, like it had been my fault.”

Mercy decided to throw away the evidence – the underwear – which she saw as a constant reminder of something she was trying to forget. “I don’t think about it much now, but sometimes, I wonder: is he still out there drugging and raping girls?”

Good idea but…

In 2004, following a sharp rise in sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) cases, activists pushed for the establishment of gender desks at police stations. The government set them up, encouraging women to report the offences and assuring them ‘professional treatment by trained police officers’.

This was a good thought. Sexual violence is the highest reported form of gender based violence, which, according to a 2009 study by The Institute of Economic Affairs, accounts for 49 per cent of SGBV reports.  However, years after the establishment of the gender desks, the study reported that 72.6 per cent of those who visited them were not satisfied with the service in as far as reception, compassion and dignity are concerned.

A random visit to the Kilimani Police Station, where the first gender desk in the country was set up, turns out to be thoroughly revealing. When we  get there, the desk is empty.

Twenty minutes later, I ask some women seated at a bench by the door, “Has anyone been here?” “Alikuwa lakini alitoka saa saba na hajarudi,” One of them says with a sigh, seemingly resigned to the hopelessness of the wait. It’s 3pm. The women, who are from Kibera, have been there since 8.30am, with the rape victim – a 17-year-old girl. Sexually violated the previous night, she has not been to a hospital yet.

They recorded a statement and are now waiting ‘for a car (from the police) to take them to hospital’. The girl’s mother is agitated. It’s going to 5pm. Still we wait. My friend and I eventually give up and leave. The others don’t have the same luxury.

At the Central Police Station, a sign at the door of room 4, where the gender desk is located, indicates that the small room also serves as an office to three other units.

The door is ajar and in the room are about half a dozen men, engrossed in heated deliberation. Assuming it to be a police case that we can’t interrupt, we wait outside.

After an hour, I wonder, if I were here to report a rape, would I have the energy to wait, or the courage to walk into that particular room and state my case? The deliberation in room 4 continues. Exasperated, we leave. 

Nothing will be done

From the bustling activity of a food court in Nairobi, Jacinta narrates her experience. Carjacked and gang raped at gun-point, her first thought was to report at a police station.

“After the gang left, I took a matatu and when I alighted, I saw a police car and approached it. I told them what had happened and they asked me to get into their car so we could go to the station.”

“One officer asked me, ‘do you have a boyfriend?’ I didn’t reply. Then he said, ‘…if you do, don’t tell him you’ve been raped otherwise he will leave you’.”

Still reeling from the trauma of what had just happened, that statement shut Jacinta down. “When we got to the station, the crime was booked as robbery with violence. And that was that.”

For Lucy, it would be six months before she had the courage to tell anyone that on her way from a Bible study group at 7pm, a man had accosted her, and raped and sodomised her.

“In a way I felt that this was my fault for walking in secluded road at night. I also felt that no one was going to believe me.” When she got home, Lucy  threw her soiled clothes away. “Six months later, I confided in a friend. The first and only time I dealt with a police officer, he asked me what I was wearing when I was raped. I told him a short skirt. He said that’s why I’d been raped. With this in mind, when asked if I wanted to pursue justice, I said I just wanted to move on.”

Not a pretty picture

The Nairobi Women’s Gender Violence Recovery Centre (GVRC) receives eight to 10 cases of SGBV every day.

A majority of these are sexual violations, with 57 per cent of these victims being adult women, 36 percent under-age girls, three per cent adult men and four per cent under-age boys.

The GVRC team reveals that of the close to 3, 000 victims they treat every year, only about five per cent choose to and get a chance to go to court, and even less are heard to conclusion in a court.

One of the main reasons that survivors choose not to pursue justice is the insensitivity of law enforcers.

Wangu Kanja, a rape survivor who began The Wangu Kanja Foundation to offer support to SGBV victims, concurs. “You go to the gender desk and they either call the closest police woman, who isn’t necessarily trained to handle such cases. But mostly, the desk is unmanned.” She however does encourage rape survivors to pursue justice, if only to help get statistics that will show the magnitude of the problem.

Asked what emotion working with law enforcers elicits in her, she says, “Anger. For example, I once dealt with this rape case where a police woman at the reporting desk asked for a bribe!”

Kennedy Otina, a programme associate at the African Women’s Development and Communications Network (FEMNET), largely works with men to make them more sensitive to SGBV issues.

He notes that the process is too fragmented. “If the rape occurs in Mathare, then the survivor has to come to the GVRC in Kenyatta or in Hurlingham, and then proceed to a police station, then maybe to an NGO, all this while the trauma is still very fresh. The tedious process makes most of them give up even before a case gets to court.”

In what seems like a direct reply to this statement, Lucy says, “Why don’t people understand that when you have just been raped you don’t want to go anywhere?”

Working with rape survivors since coming to terms with her experience, Lucy has had a chance of accompanying survivors to court.

 “I was once called to help this girl who had been raped in Westlands. After narrating it to the officers, they asked her why she had been walking alone at 9pm. We had to go to the station three more times.

A month later we went to court. During the proceedings, the girl would (understandably) break down. Instead of being understanding, the magistrate kept warning the prosecutor to ‘handle your client!’ Finally, the girl stormed out of court and said she was done with that case.”

Every county hospital is supposed to have a GVRC evidence collection unit, but that is not necessarily the case. “If you go to the well-established GVRC units, you can get the services of forensic nurses,” says Wangu Kanja.

However, sources disclose that most of those evidence packages lie at the government chemist uncollected, mainly owing to storage limitations.

 One of the greatest achievements in the fight against SGBV has been the Sexual Offences Act. Similarly, the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) is now empowered to direct the police to carry out criminal investigations.

“Today cases are going to court quicker because there are many magistrates,”  says Captain (Rtd) Collins Wanderi, an advocate, and a gazzetted special prosecutor under the DPP’s office.

However, many are still of the opinion that laws don’t necessarily translate to justice, that the low rate of prosecutions is playing a huge part in encouraging rape offenders.

But it also seems that the police face credible problems that limit service delivery. The study conducted by the IEA showed that police stations are grossly understaffed and ill-equipped.

For example, gender desks are supposed to be manned by one officer trained in gender issues, but this officer can also be assigned other duties. Poor IT technology, and as such, poor data collection is also a dilemma.

As Mercy aptly concludes: “Somehow, it’s easier for everyone if I don’t make a big deal out of it, forget it and move on. That’s our society’s position on rape.”

How to report a rape

 1. After the rape, don’t take a bath. Don’t change clothes. If you have to change clothes, keep the clothes you’ve just taken off in a non-plastic bag.

2. You don’t have to go to the police station first. You can start by the going to the hospital. All public district hospitals should have a unit to deal with sexual offenses. You should be examined by a nurse, a clinical officer,

 or medical practitioner (responsible for matters relating to reproductive health).

3. If you go to the police station first, the police officer should refer you to a medical practitioner by giving you a written notification to present at the hospital.

4. At the hospital, the medical practitioner should conduct a full medical-forensic examination and prescribe treatment at state expense. He/she should fill out a post-rape care (PRC) form. This form is a more detailed documentation specially introduced for the purposes of rape and other forms of sexual assault. With a well-documented PRC form, the police officer does not even have to ask you ‘awkward’ questions as all the details are recorded, including sketches of a physical examination.

5. Note that the PRC form replaces the P3 form in all sexual offenses. It is a gazetted document and therefore can be used as evidence.

6. Go with a copy of the PRC form to the police station. Some police posts and public hospitals, especially those in far-flung areas may not have the PRC form. In this case, a P3 form, obtained at the police post at no cost, will be used. In the absence of a PRC form, the police officer is to fill out the first part of the P3 form, while the medical practitioner fills out the second part (or alternatively fills out a PRC form). However, always insist on a PRC form, owing to its more detailed nature.

7. With your completed and signed PRC form, record a statement at a gender desk in a police station. The statement should be handwritten by a police officer. The officer can use the PRC form to beef up the statement.

8. The police officer must visit the crime scene to collect more evidence.

9. After this, a charge sheet will be processed and submitted to a court of law, upon which the court determines sufficient evidence to support a case. After this, proceedings will begin in court.

10. A lot of compromises can set in at this stage. For example, there might be pressure to settle the matter out of court, a call for forgiveness and/or compensation by the accused and/or even threats for you to drop the case.

It is at this point that you can call on a special prosecutor. During trial, you have the right to ask for your case to be heard in private.