Fear of Experiencing Violent Retribution

My quest to change the world was unsuccessful that year. Armed with a better understanding of my community, I returned in 2021. Again, I pulled into the only fuel station after exiting the Kafue National Park, and this time, I wasn’t alone. Accompanying me were the once-considered irritating ‘security’ personnel. My determination to make a difference remained, but my experiences from 2016 had stripped away my fear of the lone elephant, replacing it with the hundreds of possibilities of physical attacks while on the campaign trail. This time, the violence wasn’t just stories I’d heard; it was the firsthand accounts of victims who’d lived through it and my very own near-misses. The horrific experiences shattered any remaining naivety I had about digging wells and changing the world – a world that no longer felt like a warm cup of hot chocolate filled with marshmallows.

My world was suddenly filled with both paranoia and fear, and what I hated the most was that much of this violence had been perpetuated by my own party. When the party lost in 2021, I was abruptly awakened by the ‘onalebo this’ and ‘onalebo that’ team at 2am. Their message was clear: ‘They are coming.’ I needed no further explanation as to who ‘they’ were.

Ten minutes later, I found myself in a Land Rover Defender, driving like Evel Knievel across the sandy plains – silently praying that the pontoon would be on our side of the crossing as we headed for the Luanginga river. I know am not alone when I say this: the fear of violence, encompassing both physical and psychological harm, hinders most women from exercising their political rights.

Gender-based attacks are not only daunting but they also violate an individual’s personal peace of mind.