“I endured in silence”: Deaf women in Uganda and their struggle with abusive relationships - Minority Africa
Susan Ananda Mujjawa
February 21, 2024
As they navigate through marriage, Sarah and Betty, two Ugandan women who are deaf, share their experiences on the challenges of communication, cultural expectations and the negative perceptions from society.
According to a report by the Uganda Bureau of Statistics, 2018, 47% of people with disabilities are more likely to experience violence compared to 39% of people without disabilities. The report further states that 36% of female children between five to 17 years with disabilities experienced physical or sexual violence and 58% of female adults experienced physical or sexual violence.
When I was thirteen years old I lost my hearing due to a case of mumps. The complications and mishandled treatment, I lost my ability to hear.
After meeting and falling in love with Geoffrey*, a man who was also deaf, in 2019, we got married in a ceremony in Kampala filled with hope and anticipation for our future together.
After our wedding I wholeheartedly embraced change by moving to Western Uganda to support Geoffreys job. Although our initial months as newlyweds were joyful, we faced challenges relying solely on Geoffreys income. The pressure increased when we discovered that we were expecting a baby girl.
Gradually the man I loved transformed before my eyes. His actions became colored with disdain. He became violent with me. At night his touch felt forceful than loving leaving me feeling more isolated than before. Our marriage was supposed to be a haven. Instead it became a battlefield where my cries for help went unheard.
Armed with a masters degree in Special needs education, I made a decision to find a job in 2022 determined to improve our situation and pave the way for better times ahead. Fortunately, my efforts paid off. I landed a position at a government institute affiliated with the Ministry of Health.
Instead of feeling proud of my accomplishments, they triggered insecurities in Geoffrey. He spiraled out of control, succumbing to the allure of gambling and trading our possessions for chances at wealth.
Desperate for solutions I turned to counseling. The counselor assigned to me struggled with sign language, which dashed my hopes for understanding and progress. The thought of hiring an interpreter weighed heavily on me—both the risk of exposure and the associated costs seemed overwhelming.
I endured in silence, silently bearing the burden of violence and oppression that remains unseen and unheard by those around us.
Unable to tolerate the abuse I confided in my mother about the dark reality of my home life. Geoffrey had transformed into someone, a stranger fueled by anger and recklessness—slowly dismantling the family that I tirelessly supported.
In December 2023 I found myself standing at a crossroads.
Leaving behind my marriage with Geoffrey was a decision, driven by the need to prioritize mine and my daughters safety. Despite the pain in my heart I gathered our belongings and left the home we once shared. A home, from the last time I heard, he now shares with another woman who is also deaf.
I was born deaf. I thought that by marrying a man who could hear, my life would become smoother and more harmonious. However, I soon realized that this union came with its challenges. My husband’s temper often flared up whenever we hit a hurdle in our ways of communicating.
Throughout our marriage, my attempts to express myself through sign language often ended in frustration. This frustration created a divide between us.
One particular memory stands out. One evening, I inquired about the money we had got after a bountiful harvest. Instead of offering a straightforward explanation, my husband erupted in anger—a tempest fueled by his frustration with our disjointed communication.
When we got married, I held onto the hope that his ability to hear would bridge the gap between my world of silence and his realm of sound fostering a partnership built on understanding.
Looking back, this incident taught me lessons. It shattered the misconception that having someone who can hear automatically guarantees a connection between minds. Now with an understanding I embrace a viewpoint; communication is not solely dependent on hearing or speaking but also on the genuine willingness to understand and be understood and to appreciate the profound significance of unspoken interactions as much as verbal communication.
*Names changed to protect identity.
Edited/Reviewed by: Patricia Kisesi and Caleb Okereke.
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