Picture this: Two children in Nairobi die in a fire, with their mother sustaining severe burn injuries, after a domestic quarrel. In Mombasa, a mother dies after sustaining serious bodily injuries following a fight with her husband. The next day, it may be both mother and children. And so, the vicious cycle of domestic violence continues.
While Kenya has made notable progress in the fight against Gender-Based Violence (GBV), the crisis continues to claim lives. It will persist until we understand GBV as a cultural and psychological problem.
The Nairobi and Mombasa incidents, which happened on March 17 and April 14 this year, respectively, are a sample of many GBV cases that ended fatally, but announced their coming. For instance, in the Mombasa case, the victim, a mother of two, allegedly made several distress calls and even reported the violent threats by her husband to the authorities before the fatal incident.
At one point, the conflict led to the arrest of her husband, who was later freed without any charges.
This was more than just an institutional failure. After all, institutions are a reflection of the society in which they exist. And underlying ours is a long-held culture that trivialises and normalises domestic conflicts.
It’s no surprise to hear of victims who reported threats or violence at a police station, only to be told to go and solve the family issues at home. The same happens in our homes, where even severe domestic conflicts are treated as an ordinary part of a relationship.
By now, you may be accustomed to the phrase "mambo ya watu wawili usiingilie" (loosely meaning you should not interfere in a couple’s matters). But what is disguised as respect for privacy is actually a cultural shield protecting GBV from early scrutiny and intervention.
In almost every GBV tragedy, the script is the same: Neighbours who heard midnight screams, police who dismissed a distress call, and relatives who encouraged the couple to "work out" their issues under the guise of "ndoa ni kuvumiliana" (marriage is perseverance).
What is lost on us is that violence does not begin when someone dies. It is the culmination of violent motives quietly brewing from within but visible through threats, emotional abuse, possessive behaviours, repeated conflict, and more. More than that, violent tendencies have psychological roots reinforced by accepted cultural norms.
The 2022 Kenya Demographic and Health Survey reports that 43 per cent of women believe that a husband is justified in beating his wife under certain circumstances, evidence of ingrained beliefs catalysing violence. These beliefs run deep, anchoring the victims to abusive relationships.
Many GBV victims experience trauma bonding and learned helplessness, which Dr Sarah Alsawy-Davies, a psychologist and relationship expert, describes as repeated cycles of kindness and attack and/or neglect by the abuser that keep the victim emotionally invested, hoping for the return of positive behaviour.
Further, common psychological patterns are observed in victims and abusers who breed a toxic co-dependent (shared dysfunction) relationship.
Abusers often harbour unresolved traumas, deep-seated insecurities, and learned patterns of aggression. Victims are often so psychologically worn down by fear, shame, and prolonged abuse that leaving feels impossible. And the glue binding them together is a culture that continues to normalise dysfunction in homes.
In environments where shouting, threats, and intimidation are seen as culturally ordinary, lurking danger loses urgency. Abuse is not recognised until tragedy happens. And worse, we pass on the baton of regressive cultures to the next generation, as children growing up in such environments inherit similar attitudes.
To be sure, some may feel like this view psychologises criminality or softens accountability. After all, many abusers have escaped accountability by blaming it on alcohol, stress, childhood trauma, “anger issues” and more.
However, understanding the psychological and cultural drivers of GBV does not excuse violence. Explaining how escalation happens does not absolve responsibility.
To win the war on GBV, we should invest in cultural re-education in communities to encourage safe intervention and early reporting, preventative mental health support, and trauma-informed policing that trains officers to recognise escalation patterns, assess threat levels, and act swiftly.
Let us not only act when tragedy happens. Because while justice after violence matters, real progress comes from arresting the violent attitudes and motives before another family becomes a headline.
