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By Daniel Kachere
Chipo Kahuni’s hands tremble as she recalls the years of abuse she endured at the hands of her ex-husband. Each beating drove her deeper into silence, until a client at her hair salon offered an unexpected escape: “Take drugs,” the woman advised.
“You won’t feel the pain anymore.” For Chipo, it became a lifeline. Three bottles of BronCleer syrup and daily marijuana doses numbed her anguish—but at a cost.
Her health deteriorated, her children went unfed, and her dreams of acting faded. It was not until counselors from the Zimbabwe Civil Liberties Drug Network (ZCLDN) intervened that she began clawing her way back.
Chipo’s story is not unique. At a recent Harare workshop co-hosted by ZCLDN and the Women’s Health Issues Trust Zimbabwe (WHITZ), victims of gender-based violence (GBV) shared harrowing accounts of turning to drugs to cope with trauma. Experts revealed a disturbing trend: GBV survivors are increasingly self-medicating with illicit substances, creating a cycle of addiction and vulnerability.
For many women, substance abuse begins as a survival tactic. Chipo, a mother of three, returned to her abusive husband due to economic desperation, only to face escalated violence. Drugs offered fleeting relief. “I thought I had found happiness but I became a shadow of myself,” she confessed.
Her children mimicked the abuse they witnessed, a heartbreaking reflection of normalised violence. Law expert Maxine Chisweto explained the bi-directional relationship.
“Substance abuse can both cause and result from GBV. Perpetrators use drugs to justify violence; victims use them to numb pain. Socio-economic disparities, patriarchal norms, and weak legal frameworks perpetuate the crisis,” she said.
A UNICEF 2023 report underscores that 57 percent of Zimbabwean youths use illicit drugs, often tied to trauma or poverty. Organizations like ZCLDN and WHITZ are fighting an uphill battle.
ZCLDN’s Bestie peer-educator program and national drug observatory aim to curb addiction, but funding gaps stifle progress. “We are making inroads, but our economy is comatose,” said Programmes Officer Seretina Tanyanyiwa.
Meanwhile, WHITZ highlights alarming GBV rates: 1 in 3 Zimbabwean women experience violence, often alongside violations of sexual and reproductive rights. While women bear the brunt, WHITZ’s Penelope Gatsi notes that male victims also suffer in silence.
“Men must speak up,” she urged. Legal reforms, stigma reduction, and robust awareness campaigns are critical. Chisweto stressed: “Society must understand GBV laws and hold perpetrators accountable.”
Today, Chipo is rebuilding her life. Separated from her husband and drug-free, she’s reigniting her acting career while raising her children. “ZCLDN gave me hope,” she said. But her story is a stark reminder that without systemic change, countless others will remain trapped between abuse and addiction.
Workshop participants called for urgent action—deterrent sentencing for perpetrators, expanded rehabilitation services, and economic empowerment for survivors. As Zimbabwe grapples with this dual crisis, Chipo’s resilience offers a blueprint: healing is possible, but it demands more than individual courage. It requires a nation’s resolve. Nhau/Indaba
