Where Are The Men? Poem by Khethiwe Ramathuthu

Hee hee nibo yelele kani, where are the men?

Cries a woman lifting her hands to her head, as she walks into her shack to find her two year old daughter whom she left playing outside not far away from where she was hanging her clothes raped.

Where is he, who is he?

Could it be that it is my brother, or maybe my husband?

Was it the neighbour or the gardener, the man walking past who saw her playing in the dirt in her pink dress and thought what, what really does a man think when he goes into the body of a small, young innocent little girl like that?

And where were the men when that happened, Amadoda emadodeni, izinsizwa nsi.

Where were the men when an old women gets raped at 84 years of age, where are her sons, her brothers, and her uncles.

Where are they to protect her then, to speak against this heinous crime and say enough is enough?

Where are the men when day in and day out women walk in fear not knowing if I might be next, if it is going to be my brother, my husband, my father?


Is the neighbour one of them, maybe the pastor?


Were the men not supposed to protect us?

Can they not see us when we cry?

Are we not the ones who carry them for 9 months, do we not breast feed them, care for them that they grow big and strong only for them to become our tormentors.

Where are the men?

Where are you my brother, my father and my lover?