Solomon's Wisdom

 

A centre with a Kiwi connection provides a lifeline to girls and women who have suffered severe physical, sexual and emotional abuse.

Words: Lorna Thornber

Under the relative cover of tangled tropical rainforest on the Solomon island of Guadalcanal, a centre with a special Kiwi connection provides a lifeline to girls and women who have suffered severe physical, sexual and emotional abuse.

The Christian Care Centre is its sole refuge for victims of the so-called ‘Pacific’ island nation’s appalling rate of gender-based violence (reportedly one of the highest in the world). Run by a small team of Anglican nuns, the centre offers accommodation, counselling and support to more than 100 girls and women each year. ‘Clients’, as the sisters call them, come from throughout the almost 1,000 island archipelago – at enormous personal risk. In a deeply patriarchal society ruled by male politicians and religious leaders (97.5 percent of the population of about half a million identify as Christian), and many of whom consider violence against women and children justified, those who summon the courage to travel to the centre face condemnation and retribution on their inevitable return to their communities. Traditional customs dictate many must pay compensation for the shame they are deemed to have brought upon their families before they are allowed to do so.

Understandably, the sisters try to keep the Centre’s profile as low as possible. Still, it’s always filled to capacity with clients, who arrive either of their own accord or via police referral with their typically large broods. Knowing this, we are surprised to find the front section deserted when we arrive at the tall, metal gates after a long, bumpy taxi ride through an overgrown cacao plantation. Appearing a few moments later, Sister Doreen Awaiasi – the centre’s small, feisty and charismatic leader – tells us they generally avoid lingering in open spaces, fearful of who might spot them.
She and the other sisters and volunteers are regularly threatened by men demanding the return of “their” female relatives. Just a few minutes before our arrival, Sister Doreen says the husband of a severely-beaten client appeared at the gate, ranting, raving and brandishing a large stick. He disappeared when she told him a policeman was on his way, but she’s sure he’ll be back.
“It’s hard sometimes standing up to these big men,” she admits. “But, because I’m a nun, they usually won’t touch me.”
Ever alert to intruders, the sisters take turns acting as security guard, monitoring the gates and fenced perimeter (both of which look easy enough to scale). The self-appointed night watchwoman, Sister Doreen sleeps in a small compartment by the gates – presumably not very soundly.

Despite the pervasive threat of violence, the Centre exudes a powerful sense of serenity. While Wellington-based Family Planning International had a tough time securing our meeting with the sisters, they greet us like we are long lost friends. Welcoming us inside, they proudly point out the new, traditional-style meeting house funded by the Australian-led Regional Assistance Mission to the Solomon Islands (RAMSI). The force – which includes many Kiwi and Pacific Island soldiers, police and civilians – arrived in mid-2003 when a violent conflict between rebel militia threatened to erupt into civil war (known locally as ‘the tensions’). Called upon to help restore law and order, RAMSI’s mandate has expanded to include rebuilding the nation’s social and economic infrastructure. Now in a ‘transition phase’, RAMSI is working with the Solomon Islands Government to shape the nation’s future.
While RAMSI’s continued presence is controversial, many (the sisters of the Centre included) will be sorry to see it go, believing its mission to restore peace and stability is far from over.

Our unofficial RAMSI police escort, a fellow Kiwi, tells us the force has long supported the Centre as the sole “safe haven” for the nation’s innumerable female abuse victims. Like many we speak with, he describes gender-based violence as “absolutely rife”.

RAMSI isn’t the Centre’s sole Kiwi connection. The New Zealand Government funded the main building, which houses clients and their children in 20 dorms, as well as a small prayer room and medical clinic (the latter, it should be pointed out, relies on outside help for staff and equipment). Then Governor-General, Dame Silvia Cartwright was the guest of honour at the official opening in 2004 – as the plaque over the door and innumerable photos in the centre album attest.
“We have a good relationship with New Zealand,” says Sister Doreen. “I like to think of the Centre as a big canoe, we each have a paddle to move it forward.”
She is, however, scathing of her own government, saying all it has provided so far is broken promises.
“It won’t support this place,” she says. “It has good programmes for perpetrators [of violent crimes] but nothing for victims. It isn’t fair and sends a terrible message.”
Her frustration is understandable. While gender-based violence has long been a major problem in the Solomons, Sister Doreen believes it has skyrocketed since the tensions, which resulted in close to 200 deaths and left about 35,000 displaced.
“Men fought to kill, children were forced to stand on the front line and a lot of people were raped. Everyone was exposed to extreme violence and many are still traumatised. We do our best to help them work through it.”
Numerous reports by governmental, non-governmental and international agencies have proven how widespread a problem gender-based violence in the Solomons is.

A 2009 report by the Secretariat of the Pacific Community for the Local Ministry of Women, Youth, Children and Family Affairs (MWYCFA) found two in three (64 percent) of girls and women aged 15 to 49 have suffered physical and/or sexual abuse at the hands of a male partner or family member – much of it at the severe end of the spectrum. Thirty-seven percent said they had been sexually abused before the age of 15. According to the report, the vast majority (73 percent) believe men are entitled to beat their wives in certain circumstances (‘disobedience’, in their view, is a fair enough reason). Many also believe it’s wrong for a woman to leave her husband if he has paid a ‘bride price’ to marry her (a common custom in many such communities).
That neither domestic violence nor marital rape is explicitly outlawed is clearly of major concern, as is the complete absence of women in parliament. As then-Minister of Women, Youth and Children’s Affairs, Johnson Koli pointed out in the preface to the above report: “Violence against women is very much inherent in gender-based inequalities in our society”.

The clients we meet provide personal insights into these shocking public statistics. I am first introduced to Mary (not her real name), a small-statured teenager with caramel-coloured hair and dark brown eyes that gaze perpetually into the distance. Clinging tightly to one of the sisters, she smiles shyly, introduces herself and tells me the Centre is “lovely … peaceful” before mentally retreating into what I hope is her inner sanctuary. Sister Rosa, the Centre coordinator, says Mary has been with them for an especially long time. Most clients return home after two to three weeks (ideally after a reconciliation with their families), but Mary’s circumstances are horrific even by Solomons standards. Sexually abused by her father since she was a little girl, she gave birth to his child two years ago, only to see her baby subjected to the same fate. Sister Rosa says Mary is doing well at the Centre, spending her days helping out with cooking and housework, but she is “still very traumatised”. This morning Mary’s little girl shelters from the oppressive heat in an open-walled concrete block. She seems okay, but like the other kids has nothing to occupy her. Time, it seems, is all these kids have in abundance.

Also in the concrete block that morning was Wilhelmina (also not her real name): a pretty, young widow from the Guadalcanal Province heavily pregnant with her third child. Shortly after her husband was hit by a truck and killed Wilhelmina was raped by a neighbor, conceiving the unborn baby whom, she explains in a voice so soft it’s almost a whisper, she will give birth to within the next few days. Before she returns to her village she has been ordered to pay more than $1,000 (NZ$162) in compensation for the shame that she, as a rape victim, is said to have brought upon her family. It’s a huge sum of money for a single mother here with no independent source of income, but luckily for her the sisters have managed to raise the funds. They tell us later they often help out with compensation payments to ensure clients are accepted back into their communities. The police were set to drive Wilhelmina and her two small children home the next day, but with her attacker still at large you can’t help but fear for their safety. 

The Solomon Islands Government has taken steps to address gender-based violence but has made limited progress. Since ratifying the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women in 2002, for example, it has failed to file a single report on its efforts to meet its obligations. That said, certain governmental, non-governmental and international agencies are making headway.
The MWYCFA, for one, has lobbied hard for women’s rights since its reestablishment in 2007 (it was shut down during the tensions). The government formally approved its National Policy on Gender Equality in March 2010, currently in the implementation phase.
The Ministry’s permanent secretary, Ethel Sigimanu promises her team is working hard to ensure “women’s rights are upheld in the legislation”.
Their efforts include pushing for domestic violence and marital rape to be recognised as criminal offences and for sentences for gender-based violent crimes to be increased.
She says they have “strong support” from the Law Reform Commission, currently reviewing the Penal and Criminal Procedure codes, but concedes they still have a long way to go. It seems prudent to point out here that the Commission’s 10-strong membership includes just one woman (an Australian expatriate).
“We are a small ministry with very little resources trying to change deeply-engrained beliefs,” Ethel says. “The power dynamics between men and women in the Solomons are very unbalanced; women’s issues are still on the fringes. We’re doing our best to mainstream them, to prove to other [government] sectors that our issues are their issues. When women are empowered to succeed, the whole country benefits.”

Unlike much of the Solomons’ population, gender-based violence doesn’t discriminate. Sister Doreen is keen to stress that the Centre’s clients have included many well-educated, professionally-successful and affluent women.
Francesca (again not her real name), a 31-year-old high school teacher from the nearby island of Malaita, is a prime example. Ambitious and financially-independent, with her own property, Francesca had decided not to have children, preferring to invest in her continued education. That her husband, a fellow high school teacher whom she admits she never really loved, beats her every payday when he inevitably flies into a drunken rage strengthened her resolve. But like many in the Solomons, the couple didn’t use contraception and – surprise – Francesca wound up pregnant. On her second stay at the Centre, she cuts a forlorn figure: full-bellied with a deep gash on her forehead. She’s fearful for her own and her unborn baby’s safety upon their return home, but is reluctant to press charges against her husband. The compensation he was made to pay the last time she spoke out about the abuse coupled with the $5,000 (NZ$810) he still owes on her bride price have left him in dire financial straits. Convinced he’s a good man at heart, she doesn’t want to cause him any more pain. 

Constable Lawrence Iko, who runs the Royal Solomon Islands Police Force’s Family Violence Unit, confirms it’s an all too common scenario. Meeting with him at the Force’s relatively flash new Honiara headquarters, he tells us perpetrators of domestic violence are notoriously difficult to prosecute. While police can get around the lack of domestic violence legislation by charging them with assault, their victims must be the ones to report them – and most are reluctant to do so.
“Domestic violence is very big here, but most of it goes unreported,” he says. “And a lot of the women who do press charges retract their statements the next day because they don’t want to give evidence against their husbands. Sadly, this means officers are likely to be less helpful if they complain again.”
He says the lack of domestic violence legislation means officers tend to adopt a cultural approach to such cases, with a focus on reconciliation.
“The compensation system can be a real barrier to doing the job at times,” he admits.
While Lawrence is clearly passionate about protecting women against violence, he faces huge challenges. While he says reports of domestic violence are steadily increasing, he is the sole member of a unit with very limited resources.
“It is a very big job for me,” he says. “It’s a new unit and things happen at a very slow pace here. Sometimes, for example, it is difficult to get access to a vehicle. I have put in a request for a fuller-structured unit, but am still waiting for feedback. It will happen maybe two to three years down the track.”
He despairs of what might happen if RAMSI leaves in the near future saying, “they give us the funding and support we need. If they go soon, we will be in big trouble.”
All the same, he says, there’s no job he’d rather do.
“I’ve seen a lot of women abused by their dads and husbands and I want to help. It’s stressful but I think it’s a job where you have to have a heart to help people.”
He admits his own wife wasn’t keen on his appointment at first as he was suddenly inundated with calls from other women. Knowing she’d change her mind if she saw for herself what these women went through, he took her out with him one night on the beat.
“We went to a house where the woman had been beaten so badly her face was covered in blood and her eyes were so black and swollen she couldn’t see. It was then I saw tears come to my own wife’s eyes.”
Then, quite suddenly, his own eyes well up.
“I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing them and turning away slightly. “It’s just very hard sometimes.”