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Tawida Ali became a widow at the age of 31, but this would only be the beginning of the nightmare, Her husband's family took away her car, house and money in the name of a tradition that violates the rights of many Mozambican women. [Photo: Luisa Nhantumbo/Lusa]
Tawida Ali became a widow at the age of 31, but this would only be the beginning of the troubles. Her husband’s family took away her car, her house and her money, in the name of a tradition that violates the legally instituted rights of many women in Mozambique and elsewhere in Africa.
“That night, I lost my husband, the person I loved and who loved me. The only person who was my family. I also realise now that I lost everything we achieved,” the widow tells Lusa, between tears and sobs.
Tawida’s story is one of thousands in which Mozambican women, after the death of their husbands, lose all the assets acquired by the couple, especially when the relationship is not official and the couple did not have children, in a flagrant violation of the legislation, which states that a ‘de facto union’ – that is, a legally recognized relationship which is granted similar rights to marriage, without formal registration – is recognised when the couple have lived in the same space for more than three years.
In Tawida’s case, the relationship lasted almost four years, during which time the couple invested in several projects, notably a gym and a microcredit company.
“On the same day he died, they [her husband’s family] took everything from me. The [credit] cards, the car keys and even cash that we had on hand, which they alleged went to cover funeral expenses,” she says.
According to Tawida, in addition to taking away her assets, the family also accused her of being responsible for the death of her husband, an apparently healthy 34-year-old man.
“They were able to hold a meeting to accuse me of being guilty of my husband’s death. They didn’t even let me have the autopsy results. I recently asked his uncle to send me my husband’s identity card, and was ignored,” she adds.
Although memories of “intense love” persisted in the rented house where they lived for four years, Tawida could no longer sleep in the same bed in which her partner died and, therefore, asked to move to another property close to the house, and the gym the couple owned. However, the husband’s family rejected this suggestion.
Deprived of money, Tawida lived at the mercy of the goodwill of her friends, who took her in until she got a job and a new rented house.
“I lost my husband and everything we had. Even the car we had has already been sold. I realized I was alone,” she stresses.
In Mozambique, the rights of Tawida and thousands of women who find themselves in this situation are formally protected by the Family Law and the Law against Domestic Violence, in addition to the Constitution of the Republic itself.
But despite the existence, since the legislative revisions of 2004, of a strong regulatory framework, implementation remains a challenge, especially in rural areas, where the influence of patriarchal habits and customs remains strong.
“The great unseemly and sad situation is, when it is the man who dies, […] the family comes and tries to ‘grab’ the goods. They want to know where the credit cards or car keys are,” Lídia Romão, a lawyer for Fórum Mulher, a coalition of civil society organisations working in the sector, tells Lusa.
The publicisation of legislation continues to be the best strategy to combat similar situations, a solution that requires the involvement of all segments of society, especially in rural areas, she continues.
“The legislation exists, but people ignore it. But there is a specific treatment for all these situations. In addition to the Constitution and other normative instruments, women’s rights are protected by international conventions to which the country is a signatory,” Romao adds.
While solutions are not forthcoming on the ground, Tawida is trying to start over, today with only what remains of the “good memories” of life with her late husband.
Today, she is an announcer on a radio program in the Mozambican capital and, despite the grief and pain she still carries, Tawida strives daily to keep her listeners’ mornings “joyful”.
“I am a Christian and, for a Christian, hope is something unshakable,” Tawida concludes.
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