The Silent Shadows

In this fictional tale, the young man who was charged with the brutal rape of his own grandmother was abducted from police custody by what appears to be an all-female vigilante group in the north.

The incident took place on the secluded Omungwelume Road, where a group of seven masked women executed the ambush with military precision.

Both the vigilante group and the accused young man disappeared into thin air – without a trace.

The police pickup rumbled along the empty dirt road to the police station with the shadows of the tall palm trees stretched across the land as the sun set in the west. The two officers were still discussing the shock of the rape among themselves and couldn’t have known what lay ahead.

Without warning, two unmarked cars shot out from the bushes, engines roaring, and closed in on the pickup. The women inside, faces hidden beneath black tactical masks, wasted no time. Before the officers could react, the cars rammed into the pickup, sending it skidding off the road and onto its roof.

Moments later, the masked women emerged from the cars – all armed to the teeth. They moved quickly and in silence, overpowered the stunned officers and bound them to a tree.

The accused man, shackled and terrified, was yanked from the pickup and thrown into one of the waiting cars. Within minutes, the scene was deserted, leaving behind the immobilised police and an overturned pickup – a dark reminder of how swiftly things can change.

Days turned into weeks, and the missing man remained just that: missing.

The investigation hit a wall. No one had seen or heard anything useful, and any trace of the vigilantes had evaporated as quickly as they had appeared.

Bruised and humiliated, the officers had little to offer in terms of leads, and the wrecked pickup stood as the only concrete evidence.

At Oshakati, everybody remained silent and swore they knew nothing of the accused rapist or the vigilantes. If at all they answer you they would say something like oveli momu didimbe (“they are in the shadows”).

Yet some whispered that the attackers were victims themselves, taking revenge on men like the one they had taken. Others spoke in hushed tones about a more sinister force at work seeking its own kind of justice. Then there was the rumour that the Office of the Former First Lady had a hand in financing a secret organisation fighting to root out violence against women.

As public fear and frustration mounted, the government intervened. A task force was formed and granted full authority to track down the vigilantes and resolve the case.

With no expense spared, the team set to work, combing through the scant evidence and chasing any lead. The community remained silent and only spoke out to question why so much was done to save an accused rapist while nothing was done to stop the rape.

But as they dug deeper, the story became even stranger. The abduction wasn’t an isolated incident. Other men accused of sexual crimes had similarly disappeared in mysterious circumstances, while some were found hanged in police holding cells across the country.

The task force quickly realised they were dealing with more than a once-off attack. These women seemed to be methodically targeting rapists, delivering their own brand of punishment.

Despite their best efforts, the task force faced an almost impossible challenge. The vigilantes left no trace, moved swiftly, and seemed to disappear into thin air with each strike.

It was as if they operated on a different plane, but not here.

Present one moment, gone the next.