The Unspoken Failure of Protection Systems
The
news reports have documented that women in Bungoma County and around Mount
Elgon are being coerced into exchanging sex for firewood. The Kenya Forest
Service has responded that no cases have been formally reported to them. But
this tells us nothing about whether the abuse is happening, and everything
about whether anyone has created a pathway for survivors to speak. Consider
what a woman or girl carries home from that forest. She carries firewood. She
carries shame. And if she has been raped, she carries bleeding that is not her
period but looks exactly like it to anyone who does not ask. Where does she go?
To the local chief who drinks with the men controlling the forest? To a police
station hours away that requires transport money and a written statement taken
by a male officer who will ask why she was in the forest alone? To a health
clinic that demands a fee for a post-rape exam and offers no clean cloth or pad
to manage the aftermath? The deep-lying issue is not that women are silent. It
is that the silence has been designed. For a widow or a thirteen-year-old girl
with no male protector, speaking means answering questions no one should have
to answer while bleeding through her only skirt in a public waiting room. Until
there are anonymous, community-based, woman-led reporting structures, and until
those structures include the simple dignity of a private space and basic
sanitary materials, the only thing women will carry home from the forest is
firewood, shame, and untreated wounds.
The logging bans and forest
access restrictions around Mount Elgon were created with a noble goal:
protecting Kenya's water towers. But policy made without asking who it hurts
can become a weapon. When you criminalize a poor woman for gathering fallen
sticks, something her mother and grandmother did without fear, you do not stop
her from entering the forest. You drive her into the black market of the
forest, where the currency is her body. But here is what the conservation
reports miss. Firewood is not only for cooking the evening meal. Firewood is
for boiling water. And boiled water is what turns a reused piece of cloth into
something clean enough to manage a period safely. Without firewood, a girl
cannot wash her rags. Without washing, she gets infections that keep her out of
school for a week every month. Without school, she falls further behind. And
without any legal way to access fuel, she returns to the same forest and the
same men. The deep-lying issue is that no one conducted a gendered impact
assessment before closing the forests. No one asked: When we take away access
to fuel, how will women boil water for menstrual hygiene? Who will control that
scarcity? What happens to a girl who cannot keep herself clean? Until
every environmental policy in Kenya includes these questions, we are not
protecting the environment. We are creating the conditions for exploitation.
The women of Chepkurkur are not collateral damage. They are the predictable
outcome of policy written in rooms where no one has ever had to boil water on a
fire they were afraid to gather.
The humanitarian response has
focused on distributing alternative energy sources, efficient cook-stoves, bio-gas, solar, and on economic empowerment programs like microloans and pad
distribution. These are not bad things. But they are not enough, and pretending
they are is its own kind of harm. A woman who receives a free cook-stove but
still has no legal right to the land she lives on, no private space to change
or wash reusable materials, no safe water source near her home, and no way to
say no to the man who controls the last remaining forest access point, that
woman is not empowered. She is a woman who will still bleed into a rag, still
need to wash that rag with boiled water, still need fuel to boil that water,
and still be sent back into the forest. The documented 62% lifetime physical
violence rate in Bungoma tells us this is not simply poverty. It is a system
that has normalized male control over land, resources, and women's bodies, including
control over whether a woman can manage her most basic biological process with
dignity. The men demanding sex for firewood are not desperate. They have power.
And that power will not be broken by a microloan or a pad distribution. What is
required is land rights reform that puts titles in women's names. Community
accountability mechanisms that name and exclude perpetrators. Free,
confidential post-assault care that includes sanitary materials and a private
place to recover. And a recognition that some women will never be able to refuse
until the men who exploit them face real consequences. That is the conversation
no one wants to have. But until we have it, the forests of Mount Elgon will continue
to claim a price in flesh, month after month, in blood that is not always
menstrual but no one has ever been trained to ask the difference.
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