Gender-based violence in Chad: “It is always the girl’s fault”

Hadja’s ‘Fault’: Samira by Her Side

Hadja’s pregnancy was the result of a horrific assault. A man who frequented her school lured her with food and money before sexually assaulting her. Hadja was only 14 and a 5^th grader. Too young and fragile for vaginal birth, Hadja had a C-section at the beginning of 2024.

Her baby didn’t survive. “The water entered the baby’s lungs, and Hadja was too weak to push,” Samira says.

The surgery and subsequent medical care cost over $250. Samira had to sell off some household items to cover the expenses.

“No one else will take care of her,” Samira says.

Hadja has not heard from her family since they left.

“We knit and sell, so we can eat.”

Hadja had nowhere to turn, with no roof over her head. But Samira took her in.

 Hadja’s life has since still been a struggle. She dropped out of school.

“I cannot afford my education. The fee is 30,000 CFA (around $45). And I need my parents,” she says.

Instead, she spends her days learning to knit and sew under Samira’s guidance.

“Samira showed me how to do it,” Hajda says. “That is what we do now. We knit and sell, so we can eat.”

Samira: Bridging Community with CARE

As a CARE staff member, Samira works with many gender-based violence (GBV) survivors like Hadja.

Her role is multifaceted.

“I am CARE’s ears. When I hear something, I inform CARE for necessary measures,” she says.

The first thing Samira does when she hears something is to bring GBV survivors to the hospital for medical screenings, including checks for infections and HIV/AIDS. Then she refers the survivors to CARE for medical care and assistance kits (soap, mat, and cooking supplies).

The initiative is funded by the European Union.

“I’ve earned a reputation in town, and people bring the survivors to me,” Samira says.

“I am here at this health center every day. I talk to women and girls, help pregnant women. I advise about vaccinations.

“I help with small things like how to prepare food for babies and mothers or to maintain proper hygiene and taking care of their bodies,” she says.

“I am often the whole support system for girls like Hadja.

“And that makes me feel very bad and sad. I feel sad as a mother, because it could happen to my own daughters. I do it with my full heart but also with a lot of pain.”

Coming Back to Life

Despite the challenges she faces, Samira finds fulfillment in her work.

“When I see them receive the help they need, it brings me joy,” she says. “I feel happy when I spot them walking down the street, living their lives again after experiencing something so terrible. That makes me smile.”

Yet, the rise in GBV cases weighs heavily on her heart, particularly as insecurity escalates due to the ongoing conflict in Sudan, just miles from her town.

“Just recently, an 18-year-old girl went to the field with her younger sister and was raped by a stranger,” she says. “Another young girl was attacked with a knife on the street only a week ago.”

Samira’s discretion is vital in helping survivors reintegrate into society.

“Once labeled as a survivor, a girl faces immense challenges—finding a husband, securing employment, or even just going to the market for food becomes daunting,“ she adds. “They trust that if they come to me, they will receive support without fear of gossip spreading through the town.”

The societal stigma surrounding GBV survivors makes Samira’s role even more crucial.

“It’s always seen as girls’ or women’s fault. This infuriates me, but I understand that I must navigate within this system to help them reclaim their dignity and enjoy fulfilling lives,” she concludes.

*Name changed.