The violence pandemic 

Violence against women and girls in Nigeria is a pandemic sized problem. Millions of Nigerians girls live in fear of being assaulted or raped. Almost a third of the states in the country have failed to ratify the Child Rights Act, allowing men to abuse girls with near total impunity. Even in the states that have promised robust protection for girls, the crisis continues to escalate and survivors struggle without enough support. 

Frontline heroes like the doctors, lawyers and counsellors who deal with the daily casualties of this child rape crisis describe the heartbreak of handling cases of girls who have been defiled. These protectors of children’s rights persevere in their efforts, even though they know most cases will not get justice. Entrenched cultural barriers, systemic limitations and inadequate resources mean that most rape cases get dropped or the rapist never gets the maximum sentence he deserves. 

Even more infuriating, the cases we know about are only the small tip of a colossal iceberg. Most girls suffer in silence and shame when they are raped because they are worried about their family’s reaction and social stigma. While there are promising signs of more families speaking out, it’s estimated that a small fraction of rape cases are reported. 

For years Nigerian leaders have been talking about this problem. If the promises at conferences are to be believed, leaders are offering unlimited support and stamping out violence against girls is a top priority. The reality is that there is a yawning gap between the words of Nigeria’s leaders and the actions and resources needed to protect children. 

The family of a girl who has been raped is asked to navigate an opaque system of police and medical reports and they are forced to pay fees to authorities every step of the way. Some of the fees are legitimate and some are bribes they must pay to move their case forward.  All these efforts only get them into the judicial system which can take years to bring a case to trial. Many families can barely afford the transport fees to get to court and so as the process drags on and the costs mount, it’s not surprising that most cases are dropped. 

Evidence of the gulf between promises and realities can be seen with the police and child protection teams across the country. Even with special training on how to handle rape survivors and begin the reporting process, these frontline workers are often without the necessary resources to get to the scene of the crime. Without vehicles or budget for fuel, well-trained police and child protection teams are forced to beg colleagues for a ride or wait until they can get there. In rape cases, getting evidence and a medical report done immediately are key steps in prosecuting the rapist. 

While Nigeria was applauded for creating a register of sex offenders late last year, the project has languished without regular updates and the usefulness of the tool is in doubt. Only two of Nigeria's 36 states, Lagos and Ekiti, keep databases of those convicted of sexual offences.

It’s clear there is a long way to go before the rhetoric about ending rape matches the reality. Efforts at encouraging girls to speak up has created momentum and lifted the lid on the toxic culture of rape in Nigeria. If these cases from courageous Nigerian girls do not get justice, we risk squandering this moment to make a lasting change.

Ending the pandemic of violence in Nigeria begins with encouraging more reporting, but that is only the first step. It must also include a comprehensive review of the systems from the girls point of view. Resources and training are needed to improve services so girls can get free medical certificates, legal support and long term counselling. Without these crucial interventions , the promises of leaders will remain empty and Nigerian girls will continue to endure the rape crisis that shows no sign of abating.