By Fatimah Idera and Helen Okechukwu, JKNewsMedia Reporters
— When tradition meets violence, survivors carry lifelong trauma as justice lags behind. . .
A 13-YEAR-old girl once narrated she was repeatedly raped in the place she should have been safest – home. Years later, her name still echoes through Nigeria’s unfinished conversation on Gender-Based Violence (GBV).
JKNewsMedia.com reporters write that across communities, courtrooms, and cultural festivals, a pattern persists: survivors carry lifelong trauma while accountability remains uncertain.
Age-old GBV continues to unfold as both private horror and public crisis, cutting across age, class, and geography.
The World Health Organization (WHO) defines GBV as violence rooted in inequality between men and women, expressed through physical, sexual, and psychological harm.
In Nigeria, where women make up nearly half the population, the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) estimates that one in three women will experience some form of GBV in their lifetime.
Furthermore, official figures released in 2025 suggest more than 10,000 cases were reported within a single year.
Yet experts and advocates insist the real number is far higher, buried beneath silence, stigma, and fear.
A Case That Refuses To Fade
Few cases have shaped national outrage like that of 13-year-old Ochanya Ogbanje from Benue State. Her death in 2018 from complications linked to prolonged sexual abuse became a symbol of institutional failure and delayed justice.
Ochanya had earlier disclosed repeated assaults allegedly involving a relative’s household. Medical records later confirmed severe injuries, including vesicovaginal fistula – a condition causing continuous urine leakage due to abnormal connection between organs.
Despite public attention and court proceedings at the Makurdi High Court, the outcome split public opinion.
The presiding judge discharged and acquitted the accused father and son, while the mother received a short custodial sentence for negligence.
The ruling triggered renewed debate over evidentiary thresholds, institutional accountability, and how Nigerian courts respond to sexual violence cases involving minors.
For many Nigerians, the question lingers far beyond the courtroom: what does justice look like when the victim is no longer alive to see it?
When Culture Becomes Contested Space
Years after Ochanya’s case first dominated headlines, another controversy emerged in Delta State’s Ozoro Kingdom, Isoko North Local Government Area, this time during the Alue-Do fertility festival.
The festival, rooted in longstanding local tradition across five communities in Uruamudhu quarters, is historically associated with rituals believed to promote fertility among married women seeking children.
Community leaders describe it as a cultural practice dating back generations.
During the 2025 edition, however, celebrations were overshadowed by viral videos and survivor accounts alleging harassment and sexual assault by groups of young men in different parts of the community.
The festival, which should have been a communal moment of prayer and symbolism, instead became the centre of national outrage.
One survivor described being dragged and assaulted while on a routine errand.
“I went to buy something,” she said in a video shared on social media. “On my way back, some boys came. They took me to a place I don’t know. I was injured. I had to go to hospital.”
She added that she feared public exposure of the incident, citing stigma and personal safety concerns.
Another account, shared by community commentator Gbari Precious, alleged that a pregnant woman was among those affected and had resorted to traditional treatment before seeking medical attention.
Claims also circulated about injuries severe enough to require dental treatment and hospital care for other victims.
While community leaders maintained that the festival was misunderstood and that no penetrative assault occurred, videos and testimonies continued to circulate online, deepening public concern.
Inside The Silence Of Survivors
For many survivors, the violence does not end with the incident itself. It continues in memory, in fear, and in daily life.
One anonymous survivor described being attacked while unaware of the festival’s restrictions.
“I was going to get food,” she recalled. “They stopped me. I don’t even want my video to go viral because of my future.”
Her account reflects a recurring theme in GBV cases: trauma compounded by fear of social judgement.
Another survivor, identified under a pseudonym, now lives with recurring nightmares and emotional distress. Her case, reported through advocacy channels, highlights how survivors often rely on family support and informal coping mechanisms in the absence of structured psychological care.
Experts warn that such experiences are not isolated. They are part of a wider cycle in which survivors are left to process trauma without adequate protection systems.
Justice Delayed, Justice Questioned
Following the Ozoro incidents, the Delta State Police Command reportedly condemned the attacks and confirmed arrests, including that of a community leader and several others.
The suspects were transferred for further investigation.
However, follow-up attempts by reporters to obtain updates were unsuccessful, raising concerns about transparency and continuity in public communication.
Months later, uncertainty persists around the status of the case.
The Psychology Of Lasting Harm
A clinical psychologist at Elite Life Consulting, Mrs Obiwanne Ogbebor, explains that the impact of sexual violence extends far beyond the physical act.
She said survivors often experience shame, fear, helplessness, and confusion immediately after an assault.
Sleep disturbances, anxiety, and intrusive memories are common.
Many repeatedly replay the incident mentally, questioning their own actions and decisions.
Over time, these effects can develop into post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, or chronic anxiety.
In severe cases, survivors may struggle with suicidal thoughts or self-harm behaviours.
“When trauma is not addressed, it stays with them,” she explained.
“They relive it again and again in their minds.”
She added that public assaults intensify psychological harm due to what she describes as social trauma stemming from the humiliation of being violated in front of others and the lasting impact of perceived judgement or inaction by witnesses.
When Tradition Is Used As Justification
The psychologist raised concerns about the use of cultural or traditional explanations to rationalise harmful behaviour.
“When violence is labelled as tradition, the survivor’s experience is invalidated,” she noted. “That delays healing and deepens silence.”
She argued that cultural framing can reinforce self-blame and discourage reporting, especially in tightly knit communities where reputation and social standing carry weight.
Stigma And The Weight Of Silence
Stigma remains one of the strongest barriers to justice.
Fear of shame, rejection, or blame often prevents survivors from reporting abuse. Many withdraw from social life entirely, choosing silence over exposure.
According to the psychologist, meaningful change requires sustained public education, community engagement, and consistent condemnation of sexual violence by trusted leaders.
Survivors, she added, need safe environments where they can speak without fear of ridicule or retaliation.
Pathways toward recovery
Support systems, even in low-resource settings, can significantly improve outcomes for survivors.
Psychological first aid offers immediate emotional stabilisation after trauma. Longer-term recovery may involve trauma-focused therapy and structured counselling.
Group support systems also provide survivors with shared understanding and reduced isolation, helping rebuild trust and resilience over time, she also submitted.
Why Justice Is Central To Healing
Accountability plays a critical role in psychological recovery.
“When survivors know perpetrators are free, recovery becomes harder,” the psychologist said. “It keeps reopening the wound.”
Delayed justice, she warned, can erode trust in institutions and deepen emotional distress.
Preventing Repetition
In general, other experts advocate a multi-layered prevention approach: education on consent, engagement of men and boys, school-based awareness, and stronger collaboration between security agencies, religious leaders, and traditional institutions.
At the core of prevention, however, lies a simple principle as dignity cannot be optional.
“Any tradition that strips people of dignity should be changed,” the psychologist said. “Tradition is created by people and can be changed by people.”
A Crisis That Continues Beyond The Headlines
Over the years, GBV in Nigeria has been described as not a single story but a collection of unresolved ones.
Reports note that from childhood trauma in Benue to contested cultural festivals in Delta State, the pattern remains painfully consistent: survivors endure, systems struggle, and justice often arrives late or not at all.
For those who survive, the violence rarely ends where it begins.
It follows them home.
It follows them into memory.
It follows them into silence.
And for many, it becomes a lifelong negotiation between pain and survival.
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