CAMEROON: The Gavel: A Lawyer’s Confession
- rasika773
- Mar 26
- 3 min read
About this Story
This story was first published on the World Pulse platform and is shared here through a collaboration between World Pulse and Imaara Survivor Support Foundation. As part of Imaara’s Project Tell-Tale initiative, selected stories from World Pulse are being cross-posted to amplify survivor voices and strengthen conversations around gender-based violence.
The story was submitted in response to a call for stories connected to the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence (2025), inviting survivors, advocates, and allies to share lived experiences, reflections, and pathways toward justice and healing.
By: Enoh
(The author has chosen to be identified in this publication)
As a lawyer focused on gender-based violence (GBV) cases, I often feel like I am fighting two battles: the one against the perpetrator, and the one against the system itself. Enangha’s case is the one that forces me to admit where the law ends and where true justice begins.
Enangha came to me seeking freedom from years of calculated economic abuse. Her husband's control over every Franc cfa and opportunity was a silent form of violence, a form that traps millions of women globally.
The Hardship: The System That Sabotages Survival
My job was to secure her divorce, but what unfolded was a painful lesson in institutional failure. Enangha’s personal trauma was magnified by the judiciary's indifference:
The Humiliation as Strategy: We spent eighteen months battling relentless delays and malicious accusations. Enangha was forced to confront her abuser repeatedly, listening as his lawyer weaponized her poverty, arguing she was unfit to manage the assets he deliberately withheld. Every court appearance was an act of profound courage that resulted only in crushing exhaustion.
The Economic Drain: The process itself became an act of economic sabotage. Enangha sold her few valuables to pay fees. Every mandated court day was a day she couldn't earn, deepening the poverty she was fighting to escape. The legal system, meant to liberate her, became another obstacle in her path to self-sufficiency.
The Hollow Victory: When the final decree arrived, I felt professional relief. Enangha felt despair. I handed her a court order a piece of paper that gave her freedom but no foundation. She had endured years of personal terror and almost two years of systemic stress, only to be released into destitution.
“Where is the justice, madam?" she asked me. Her question indicted my entire profession. I realized then: For countless women, the legal victory is a hollow trap, exchanging personal bondage for structural poverty.
The Triumph: The Universal Thread of Resilience
Enangha’s story, which mirrors the reality of survivors everywhere, shows us that we must look beyond the verdict. Her salvation was found outside my courtroom.
A small loan from a local women's cooperative a supportive, non-judgmental entity was the turning point. It was a vote of confidence that bypassed the judges and the banks, going straight to her inherent skill: weaving.
She started Ngand'a Nuru("strength of Light"). The rhythm of the loom became her therapy; the profit became her freedom.
Reclaiming Agency: The scarves she weaves are designed by her, priced by her, and the income belongs solely to her. This control over her labor and her livelihood is the true, lasting form of justice that no court order could ever mandate.
The Shared Victory: Enangha’s triumph is the triumph of all survivors who choose to define their worth by their own hands and minds. She escaped one form of violence only to be thrown into scarcity, but her resilience, coupled with community support, allowed her to weave a new, self-sufficient life.
As a lawyer, I learned this truth from Enangha: While my job is to fight for legal orders, the most powerful instrument of justice for survivors is economic empowerment giving them the tools to build a future the system failed to deliver.
Her loom is her light. What is yours?
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