Busia women, girls dancing their way into sexual abuse

Makhoha, a bodaboda rider and trader of chicken, goats and fish, was the victim of a grisly murder on Tuesday night. He was on his way home when he was attacked at 10pm. The assailants beat him, and then drilled seven six-inch nails into his head. The motorcycle was stolen.

Loud music greets us as our vehicle turns off the main road. The DJ is in his stride, shouting whatever comes to his mind. The older people try to find seats in the tents – which are bursting at the seams, literally. They come armed with blankets and sweaters. The younger, more vibrant crowd, which includes children as young as five years, hangs about in groups, laughing and dancing the night away.

The lone chapatti vendor is working overtime but cannot satisfy the steady stream of hungry revelers. Those selling alcoholic drinks are also raking it in. The music is lively. The crowd is upbeat. It is a pitch-black night. 

A group of world-weary youths squat in front of our vehicle and take turns smoking a joint of marijuana before melting back into the darkness.

It is hard to believe that there is a bereaved family lurking somewhere in the background, crying for their lost son. There are no tears here. This is Disco Matanga, where a community gathers to fundraise for the burial expenses of the deceased, and then, party them into their graves.

The music and dancing usually start at 10pm and go on until the wee hours of the morning. Men drink local brew and smoke marijuana or chew miraa. As they get more intoxicated they pay for girls to be their ‘dance partners,’ who later in the night, graduate into sex partners.

The origins of the phenomenon

Such are the nature of activities that take place during the wake that in February, Christine Nasisamba, the vice chairperson of Busia district, tabled a bill in the council seeking the abolition of Disco Matanga.

Eric Wabwire, a well-known DJ who has presided over many Disco Matangas, says the concept was imported from western Kenya in 2010, when a group of Kenyans living in Busia town lost a friend. They held a party to solicit funds to transport the body to Bungoma County.

“At first, we were shocked, thinking they were happy that their colleague had died. But when we attended and studied the concept, we adapted it. Previously, when someone died, the elders instructed every family in the village to contribute posho and firewood for the funeral. Every house also contributed chairs or mats,” he says.

Nowadays, while the women lament and wail for the deceased during the day, the menfolk negotiate with an events company to hire tents, chairs, a DJ and a sound system on credit.

“Matanga is a Swahili word that means a funeral. This is not a party; it is about giving people an opportunity to contribute towards a decent sendoff of their colleague. It is not about having fun and dancing. It’s about looking for money. The disco helps us amplify the purpose and attract people to come to the funeral,” Wabwire adds.

At Makhoka’s wake, a black plastic basin stands on a bench in the midst of the tents. Two men are meticulously counting the money dropped in the basin by a steady stream of people. Towards the morning, the money will be divided between the family, the events company, the DJ, and the transport company.

“The amount collected depends on how popular the dead person was. If he or she was not popular or was a child, the collection can amount to Shs1 million and Shs 1.5 million. A popular person will attract people from near and far, which means more money,” Wabwire says.

At Makhoha’s wake, as the DJ lowers the music and calls on different people to contribute, some people are exploring each other in the dark recesses of the compound. A bodaboda rider and a girl of about 16 years romance in the shadows behind our vehicle. A few minutes later, hand-in-hand, they disappear into the eucalyptus trees further away from the house. A group of children – the eldest aged 10 – try to follow them, but they are sternly told to stay back.   

As the DJ increases the music, another couple standing to our right begin gyrating their bodies. The man stands behind the woman and puts his arms around her waist. They execute an obscene dance.

Growing fight against Disco Matanga

Beatrice Ajambo, the female councilor for Busitema sub-county, says Disco Matanga has led to family breakups in her constituency.

“Women go to these night fundraisers and go astray. When their husbands come to know about it, there is domestic violence, and sometimes the family breaks up. That is why we are drafting an ordinance to regulate the time it is supposed to happen and how long it should last, so that the bereaved family benefits and the women are protected,” she says.

Busia residents have adapted the custom of keeping bodies in mortuaries until the day before the burial. The local mortuary – Masafu Mortuary – charges Shs250,000 for a postmortem and a daily embalmment fee of Shs20,000. On the last day, dressing the body and making up its face costs Shs250,000. The prices at Tanaka Mortuary in Kenya are much cheaper, with the entire procedure costing Shs3,000 KES (Shs83,600).

Disco Matanga is held on any day of the week when the body arrives at the ancestral home.

Across the border, Esther Wazige, the director of Children’s Services in Busia County, Kenya, decries the night hours children spend at the party.

“It is all about leisure and happiness and when children and adults are in the spaces all manner of child abuse will happen. In some sub-counties, children are used as bait. They will use young girls of 14 to 15 years to dance in a very provocative manner to attract men to contribute more money,” she says.

Wazige adds that any man who makes a contribution towards the funeral expenses has carte blanche to do as he pleases with the girl he has been given to dance with.

“When he feels he has put down enough money, he will go away with the girl for the night. If the girl refuses, she is forced to submit. The Busia County government is fighting Disco Matanga because it is now a child protection concern. Currently, we have a policy in place, banning children and music at the fundraising,” she says.

In 2019, Busia district had the highest teenage pregnancy rate at 31 percent, compared to the national rate of 25 percent. There are stakeholders who suggest that the high teenage pregnancy rates could be blamed on the night funeral parties.

Michael Wandera, the team leader of Busia Youth Empowerment Centre, says a number of girls are sexually assaulted as the party progresses into the wee hours of the night.

“Some of them are weigh laid and defiled as they walk home. Recently, we interacted with three girls who were defiled at a Disco Matanga and all of them are pregnant. Obviously, they have dropped out of school. Why are young girls allowed to attend this disco yet they do not have the money to contribute to funeral expenses?” he asks.

Wabwire disagrees with the notion that girls are sexually abused at the alcohol and drug-infused wakes.

“We have raised awareness about what Disco Matanga stands for and parents have agreed with us that girls can get pregnant anywhere. They can be impregnated at the wells, springs and boreholes as they collect water,” he says.

John Wafula Ogumbo, the former district council speaker and former Resident District Commissioner (RDC), decries the rise in new HIV infections in the district.

“The real dancers at Disco Matanga are young girls who are not yet 18. Boys and men engage these girls to dance and then take them home to satisfy their sexual needs. You find a girl being squeezed by an adult who should be acting as a parent. While a lot of money is raised, the biggest percentage is shared by the organisers. The bereaved family takes a very small share which cannot even buy a coffin,” he says.

Wabwire refutes this, saying he is only paid a tip of Shs20,000. “We work for free. I am an established trader, dealing in scrap. Those people should attend Disco Matanga so that the next time they get problems, we can also fundraise for them.”

However, Ogumbo stresses that this is a business organised by specific people to get rich at the expense of bereaved families.

“We have been burying people since time immemorial and we have contributed to those burials without dancing at wild parties. Those DJs will jump on anyone, even if it is the RDC, and give him a young girl to dance with so that they can collect money. As someone who has been an RDC in several districts where these schemes do not exist, I feel the people of Busia have been disadvantaged,” he says.

Although Wabwire is emphatic that children are not allowed to attend the fundraising, and that those who are found are arrested and taken to the nearest police station, we saw a number of children dancing at Makokha’s wake.

Emily Kitabire, the secretary general of Environmental Women in Action for Development (EWAD), an organisation advocating for the banning of Disco Matanga in Busia district, says children who attend Disco Matanga find it hard to concentrate in class the next day. In some instances, this has led them to dropping out of school.

“They find alcohol and marijuana in Disco Matanga and of course, they want to experiment with them. Recently, we met the district council and urged them to find ways to ban or regulate the disco. But as you can see, the councilors are not perturbed. I am shocked that such a thing as Disco Matanga exists. Yes, it is good to fundraise for the dead, but why involve children?” she asks.

Those in support taking the day

When we visited the district headquarters, some councilors were up in arms, arguing that Disco Matanga is part of the Samia culture and should not be regulated or banned.

“There is nothing wrong with Disco Matanga. We do not have big incomes in this community to enable people to take care of their own problems. We have to help each other. I have attended many Disco Matangas and the fact that girls are getting pregnant is not due to the party. There are high levels of teenage pregnancy in Uganda. Do all regions of the country have Disco Matanga?” Moses Kibedi, the district youth councilor inquires.

Steven Wasike Mugeni, the LC5 Chairperson of the district, agrees, saying, “We have always had traditional dances at funerals, even before Disco Matanga was introduced, such as Isukuti. We are happy to fundraise because the alternative is that people will have to sell land to give their loved ones decent burials.”

According to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO), the Isukuti dance is a traditional celebratory performance practiced among the Isukha and Idakho communities of western Kenya. It takes the form of a fast-paced, energetic and passionate dance accompanied by drumming and singing. However, Isukuti dance is disappearing, perhaps giving way to Disco Matanga.

Mugeni cautions the organisers to do it in a way that does not harm children.

“The DJs are careless with their words, calling children to dance for the crowds. We do not want children in that place. They should not play loud music throughout the night or permit the sale of alcohol and drugs to inconvenience others. Criminals use Disco Matanga to steal from others and defile young girls,” he says.

Mugeni adds that the regulation the council proposes to table is intended to protect children and families.

“We cannot stop grown-ups who decide to attend the party. The problem comes when couples attend and end up having sexual relations with different people. That is why the bill will be called the Child and Family Protection Ordinance. It was introduced in the council for the first reading, sponsored by development partners,” he says.

However, residents of Busia town like John Obuli are up in arms, calling out councilors who have supported the regulation bill as not having the interests of their voters at heart.

“Anyone who advocates for banning Disco Matanga is fighting our community. I urge the people of Busia district to turn against any one in the council who comes up with that regulation or supports it. We have councilors who are only after money from development partners. That is why they pass such funny laws. If those councilors want to survive the next election, they should make sure that regulation is not passed into law,” he argues.

Ogumbo condemns this train of thought, saying politicians should not let popularity blind them to the exploitation of women and children during the wakes.

“Many of those young boys and girls participate in the dancing but they do not contribute a single cent. The politicians are seeking cheap popularity at the expense of the wider community. How is it possible that we are experiencing a rise of new HIV infections and other sexually transmitted diseases and someone is clapping and saying Disco Matanga should be retained?” he asks. 

Why at night?

The fact that Disco Matanga happens in the night has been a sticking point with the councilors who support regulation of the activity. However, Wabwire says the night is the only time people have to listen to their leaders. 

“There are government programs that leaders need to tell their voters about. But the public is busy. People leave home for work at 5am and return at 10pm every day. Disco Matanga gives them a chance to meet and interact with the electorate,” he says.

Ogumbo calls on leaders to have a mindset change and look further than the vote. “Because they know the youth form the biggest percentage of people who attend Disco Matanga, they fear losing votes if they ban the party. I would rather lose votes but ensure that the next generation is protected,” he says.

Women and children are not the only vulnerable ones at Disco Matanga. Even boys are victims, especially when they are set on by other boys who use the cover of the alcohol and drug fueled wake to settle long standing scores.

As a leave Makhoka’s wake at 5am, a steady drizzle is beating down on the crowd, which is still reveling. Makhoka will be buried at 4pm by the same crowd, most of whom will be nursing hangovers and perhaps, regrets over the excesses they engaged in the previous night.