When Tradition Dances and a Daughter Screams: A Tragedy at Gonde

When Tradition Dances and a Daughter Screams: A Tragedy at Gonde

“But while the drums pounded and the elders danced, a daughter of the nation was being pounded and violated. Violated in silence. In shadows. In sacrilege………..”

Now before my Tonga cousins reach for their spears or start composing fiery Facebook statuses, allow me your Lozi sister, to speak plainly. After all, tribal teasing is our inheritance, but this week, the only thing worth throwing is shame, and lots of it.

At this year’s Lwiindi Gonde Traditional Ceremony that beautiful showcase of Tonga pride, ancestral prayers, and more chibwantu than the body can handle a female student was raped. Yes. Raped.

In a crowd of thousands. In the glow of celebration. In a space meant to be sacred.

And no, this is not a joke, not some exaggeration. This is the unfiltered truth from Monze the same Monze where spiritual elders gather under ancient trees and invoke ancestral blessings on our rain, harvest, and cattle (especially those majestic beasts you cousins are so attached to you even praise them in your names).

But while the drums pounded and the elders danced, a daughter of the nation was being ponunded and violated. Violated in silence. In shadows. In sacrilege.

Now, I don’t want to hear any “but what was she wearing?” nonsense. This girl wasn’t out there to seduce anyone; she went to learn, to experience her culture, maybe even post a few TikToks. And instead of returning home with memories, she returned home with trauma stitched into her soul.

Let’s be honest here: this isn’t a Tonga problem. It’s a Zambian problem. From the Copperbelt taverns to university hostels to village boreholes, our men yes, our sons, brothers, and even husbands, are failing the basic test of humanity: respecting a woman’s body.

Still, there’s something especially horrifying about this happening at Gonde. Because Gonde isn’t just a party. It’s a ceremony of ancestral reverence. It’s where culture is supposed to uplift, not desecrate. Where girls should feel protected, not preyed upon.

Where were the elders? The marshals? The police? Or were they all too busy taking selfies with politicians?

And speaking of politicians, don’t get me started on the VIP tents. Air-conditioned, champagne-flowing islands of indifference. Where was the leadership? Where was the statement, the emergency response, the collective mourning?

If a girl can be raped at the spiritual heart of a ceremony where no one’s supposed to even chew gum disrespectfully what message are we sending to every other girl, in every other village, street, or university hostel?

Let me say this plainly, my cousins: if our culture does not protect our girls, then it is not worth preserving.

You want to preserve the Gonde ceremony? Wonderful. Then police it. Staff it. Light it. Empower the women around it. Respect the bodies that dance in its dust.

Otherwise, don’t be surprised when next year, the only young women showing up are selling boiled eggs outside the gates, because the brave ones who came to dance were left bleeding in the bushes.

I don’t write this column to shame the Tonga people I write it to shame all of us. Because the silence after this crime is louder than any drumbeat. And unless we speak up, show up, and stand up, the next scream could come from your daughter.

And don’t come crying to me in Bemba, Lozi, Tonga or English. Cry to the ancestors who watched and did nothing. Any Tonga Bull in here should Try me !!… you will regret.