{"id":696,"date":"2017-05-04T16:57:00","date_gmt":"2017-05-04T16:57:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/?p=696"},"modified":"2017-05-04T16:57:00","modified_gmt":"2017-05-04T16:57:00","slug":"ugandas-punishment-island-i-was-left-to-die-on-an-island-for-getting-pregnant","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/2017\/05\/04\/ugandas-punishment-island-i-was-left-to-die-on-an-island-for-getting-pregnant\/","title":{"rendered":"Uganda&#8217;s punishment island: &#8216;I was left to die on an island for getting pregnant&#8217;"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Unmarried girls who got pregnant used to be seen as bringing shame to their families in parts of Uganda, so they were taken to a tiny island and left to die. The lucky ones were rescued, and one of them is still alive. The BBC&#8217;s Patience Atuhaire tracked her down.<!--more--><\/p>\n<p>&#8220;When my family discovered that I was pregnant, they put me in a canoe and took me to Akampene [Punishment Island]. I stayed there without food or water for four nights,&#8221; says Mauda Kyitaragabirwe, who was aged just 12 at the time.<br \/>\n&#8220;I remember being very hungry and cold. I was almost dying.&#8221;<br \/>\nOn the fifth day a fisherman came along and said he would take her home with him.<br \/>\n&#8220;I was a bit sceptical. I asked him whether he was tricking me and wanted to throw me into the water.<br \/>\n&#8220;But he said: &#8216;No. I am taking you to be my wife.&#8217; So he brought me here,&#8221; she reflects fondly, seated on a simple chair on the veranda of the house she shared with her husband.<\/p>\n<p>She lives in the village of Kashungyera, just a 10-minute boat trip across Lake Bunyonyi from Punishment Island, which is actually just a patch of waterlogged grass.<\/p>\n<p>At first, Ms Kyitaragabirwe was unsure how to greet me until Tyson Ndamwesiga, her grandson and a tour guide, told her that I spoke the local Rukiga language.<br \/>\nHer face cracked into a nearly toothless smile. She held my arm from the elbow, in the tight grip that the Bakiga people usually reserve for long-lost relatives.<br \/>\nThe slender-built Ms Kyitaragabirwe walks with steady steps and estimates that she is in her eighties, but her family believes she is much older.<br \/>\nShe was born before birth certificates were common in this part of Uganda so it is impossible to be sure.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;She used to have a voter&#8217;s registration card from just before Uganda&#8217;s independence [in 1962]. That is what we used to count backwards. We think she&#8217;s around 106,&#8221; says Mr Ndamwesiga.<br \/>\nIn traditional Bakiga society, a young woman could only get pregnant after marriage. Marrying off a virgin daughter meant receiving a bride price, mostly paid with livestock.<br \/>\nAn unmarried pregnant girl was seen as not only bringing shame to the family, but robbing it of much-needed wealth. Families used to rid themselves of the &#8220;shame&#8221; by dumping pregnant girls on Punishment Island, leaving them to die.<br \/>\nBecause of the remoteness of the area, the practice continued even after missionaries and colonialists arrived in Uganda in the 19th Century and outlawed it.<br \/>\nMost people at the time &#8211; especially girls &#8211; did not know how to swim. So if a young woman was dumped on the island, she had two options &#8211; jump into the water and drown, or wait to die from the cold and hunger.<br \/>\nI asked Ms Kyitaragabirwe if she was scared. She tilts her head to one side, frowning, and fires back:<br \/>\n&#8220;I must have been about 12 years old. If you&#8217;re taken from your home to an island where no-one else lives, in the middle of the lake, wouldn&#8217;t you be scared?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>In another part of the region, present-day Rukungiri District, pregnant girls would be thrown off a cliff at Kisiizi Falls.<br \/>\nLegend has it that it was not until one of them dragged her brother down with her that families stopped pushing their daughters to their deaths.<br \/>\nNo-one ever survived Kisiizi Falls. But a number of girls are said to have survived Punishment Island, thanks to young men who could not afford to pay a bride price.<br \/>\nMarrying girls from the island meant a dowry-free wife.<br \/>\nAfter her husband took her to his home in the village of Kashungyera, Ms Kyitaragabirwe became a subject of curiosity and gossip.<br \/>\nOver the decades, she has become a tourist attraction &#8211; her home a regular stop for tourists on the trail of the history of the area.<\/p>\n<p>While discussing her life story, she often stopped talking and stared at her hands contemplatively.<br \/>\nAt other times, like when I asked how she lost her eye, she was quite evasive, instinctively raising her hand to touch it.<br \/>\nThe touchiest subject seemed to be the fate of the baby she was pregnant with when she was left to die.<br \/>\n&#8220;The pregnancy was still quite young. I never had the baby. Back then you could not fight back to defend yourself. If you did, they would beat you up,&#8221; she says, lifting her head-wrap from her lap to wipe her face.<br \/>\nEven though she did not say it outright, I understood what she meant &#8211; she was beaten up and had a miscarriage.<\/p>\n<p>Punishing girls &#8211; known in the local language as Okuhena, from which the island draws its local name Akampene &#8211; was an age-old practice. And Ms Kyitaragabirwe would have known about the consequences of a pregnancy.<br \/>\n&#8220;I had heard about other girls that had been taken to Punishment Island, although not anyone close to me. So, it seems I was also tempted by Satan,&#8221; she chuckles.<br \/>\nShe never saw or heard from the man who led her down &#8220;Satan&#8217;s path&#8221;. However, she had heard, many years ago, that he had died.<br \/>\nOf her husband, James Kigandeire, who died in 2001, she said: &#8220;Oh, he loved me! He really looked after me.<br \/>\n&#8220;He said: &#8216;I picked you up from the wilderness, and I am not going to make you suffer&#8217;.<br \/>\n&#8220;We had six children together. We stayed in this home together until he died.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>And while it took decades, she was finally reconciled with her family.<br \/>\nShe smiled and said: &#8220;After I became a Christian I forgave everyone, even my brother who had rowed me in the canoe. I would go home to visit my family, and if I met any of them I would greet them.&#8221;<br \/>\nMs Kyitaragabirwe is believed to be the last woman who was dumped on the island, with the practice having died out after Christianity and government became stronger in the region.<br \/>\nStill, unmarried pregnant women were frowned upon for many years.<br \/>\nCondemning this attitude, Ms Kyitaragabirwe said: &#8220;I have three daughters. If any of them had got pregnant before they were married, I wouldn&#8217;t blame them or punish them.<br \/>\n&#8220;I know it can happen to any woman. If a young woman got pregnant today, she would come to her father&#8217;s house and be taken care of. The people who carried out such practices were blind.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Unmarried girls who got pregnant used to be seen as bringing shame to their families in parts of Uganda, so they were taken to a tiny island and left to die. The lucky ones were rescued, and one of them is still alive. The BBC&#8217;s Patience Atuhaire tracked her down.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":15,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-696","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-article"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/696","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/15"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=696"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/696\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":697,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/696\/revisions\/697"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=696"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=696"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/baileyonlineclassroom.com\/subsaharanafricablog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=696"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}