‘Don’t dream big. Dream bigger.’ – Bonnie Edwina Currie-Gamwo, 41, State prosecutions deputy director
In a field still dominated by men, State prosecutor Edwina Currie-Gamwo is not deterred from seeing justice prevail after witnessing the “inexplicable inequality” of apartheid. And today she helps put child rapists, murderers, child pornographers and traffickers behind bars.
Born in District Six, her family were forcibly removed from their home under the Group Areas Act.
But she excelled at school, and during her matric year won a scholarship from the Mount Nelson 100 Club to study law at the University of the Western Cape, graduating BA cum laude. This was followed by an LLB degree.
Later she was selected to join the NPA as part of the Aspirant Prosecutors Programme. After two years at the Western Cape High Court, she was promoted to senior State advocate and later deputy director, a position she has held for the past 17 years.
“As a young child I saw inexplicable inequality, which propelled me to want to study and understand the laws which I felt caused the inequality,” she says.
She currently has no aspirations to be on the Bench, believing that as a prosecutor she is making the “greatest impact”.
“Prosecutors fulfil the important role of ensuring that criminals are convicted for their crimes, and that they are sent to prison for a long time. They guide the police to ensure that the investigations into crimes such as murder, rape, robbery, etc are done. One of the slogans used by the NPA is ‘the people’s lawyer’.
“As a prosecutor I have been able to get justice for the poorest, most destitute people in our society. In my small way I believe I am giving back some dignity to the victims of crime, particularly the murdered child, the raped child and woman. This gives what I do purpose, and ensures that I remain committed and passionate about my work.”
Currie-Gamwo says women need to assert themselves to gain the respect of others, especially in a male-dominated arena. But she adds that while women need to be “bold”, they should remain “humble and always lift other women up as you move up”.
‘There is never a time to stop learning.’ – Galiema Fish, 55, Groote Schuur Breast Clinic co-ordinator
At the age of 50, Galiema Fish decided to go back to her studies to complete a degree in oncology.
“They say the older you get the less brain matter you have,” she jokes, but adds seriously that it’s never too late to learn new things.
Fish believes that in any profession, one needs to keep up and, however difficult, adapt to the changing times. Describing herself as a “born nurse”, Fish first became fascinated by medicine when she joined the Red Cross Society in high school.
She grew up with a sense of wanting to care for others. After becoming a registered nurse she later became hugely interested in the field of oncology or cancer medicine.
Fish also discovered a lack of awareness in the area of breast health, and has since developed what she describes as “patient-friendly” booklets as a step-by-step guide when women enter the breast clinic.
“I tried to make the patients’ journey less intimidating. There is no word that can describe someone’s anguish when the doctor tells them they are positive for breast cancer, and have to go for chemotherapy.”
The co-ordinator has no problem getting the police to collect a patient who fails to turn up for their test results. “I will do my utmost to get a patient here so they can know what’s wrong with them, and get the medical attention they need.”
Some of the toughest cases are women who undergo a mastectomy, often losing both breasts.
Fish encourages the use of “softies” which can be fitted into a bra. “Breasts are part of a woman’s persona, but without them it doesn’t mean you’re no longer a women or that you can’t be a mother.
“If you can ensure that you preserve someone else’s dignity, that warms my heart.”
‘Shout and scream out against violence against women and children.’ - Myrtle Witbooi, 67, general secretary of the SA Domestic Services and Allied Workers Union and president of the International Domestic Workers Federation
From the back yard of her employers’ home, Myrtle Witbooi waved goodbye to her month-old baby girl.
It was one of the most painful experiences Witbooi recalls from her more than 10 years service as a domestic worker during apartheid.
But it was from the same back yard, and with the assistance of her employers, that she began the fight for the rights of domestic workers, a fight she has now taken global.
This week she heads to Indonesia to help a domestic worker jailed for killing her boss after he burnt her breasts with cigarette.
“There’s still so much to do for domestic workers. We’ve won labour laws and minimum wages, but there is still such a backlog in terms of education. Many women are still illiterate. We don’t want to be vulnerable anymore, but we need to educate ourselves and use the law to free ourselves.”
She believes that women need to rally together and challenge the Justice Department and Social Services.
“Just like we struck a rock at the Union Buildings to get rid of pass laws, we need to strike a new rock and claim our Freedom Charter and make South Africa safe for women.”
While Witbooi questions why women remain silent on critical issues affecting them, she is still hopeful that if a stand is taken by a large majority, positive change can prevail.
“We as women are so strong. If we could outlive the oppressive laws of apartheid, we can take back our streets. But we need to make our voices heard.”
‘You can do the same as men, if that is where you heart lies.’ - Barbara Lessing, 44, Emergency Medical Services paramedic.
AFTER 10 years as a midwife in various labour wards, Barbara Lessing decided to challenge herself.
She became a paramedic, a job which formerly saw men in the majority.
“I always admired the people on the road because you have to think on your feet, and it’s stimulating because you use a variety of clinical skills from paediatrics to trauma.” says Lessing.
Ironically, the former midwife has delivered more babies as a paramedic than when she was based in hospitals.
She recently helped deliver twins at the side of the N1 highway.
Lessing also uses her expertise in the area of obstetrics to give lectures.
But she has had to get used to entering dangerous areas where running gun battles are a daily occurrence. “Once we got stuck in Lavender Hill in the middle of the night and there was shooting. We couldn’t get out because there was nowhere to run or hide, so we just had to wait for a rescue service.”
More horrific to her is when she encounters scenes of mass murder. “That’s when you just think, this is a really sick person.”
She stresses that the job is definitely not for every woman. Men are generally tougher and are also physically stronger.
“There’s no light duty and females often struggle to lift stretchers with the patients. We have to prove to ourselves that we can do it.”
But women, she believes, have a special intuition and sense of compassion which men often lack.
“I still believe this job is a calling, and if you don’t have compassion for people, don’t do it. Don’t do it for the show.”
Lessing says you also have to learn quickly and avoid making judgements about people, as they treat people who have attacked women and children the same as if they were any other patient.
“When he’s in the ambulance, I just think at least you have a few minutes to show him a bit of humanity.”
‘If we live our lives in fear, there’s no way of prospering.’ – Funeka Soldaat, 52, lesbian rights and community activist
Seated in Khayelitsha’s wetlands play park with sunlight on her face, Funeka Soldaat’s warm smile quickly fades as she tells how she, along with many other survivors of what has been dubbed “corrective rape”, come from “a very dark place”.
But today she believes her journey to fight against violent hate crimes and homophobia has yielded some positive change.
“Things are not as harsh as they were before,” she says.
Soldaat started the NGO Free Gender when she realised the community stigmatised and lacked an understanding of LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) individuals.
“In the beginning of 2005, with the first killing of a lesbian in the township, I started to panic. That’s why I decided to start a group with activists, regardless of sexual orientation, to push the issue of hate crime and homophobia.”
She believes one of their biggest achievements is the open relationship they now have with the local police, so they feel they have access to report any violations they may encounter.
Soldaat says even churches are starting to engage with them around LGBT issues.
But in spite of the great strides they’ve made, she warns that crimes against not only lesbians, but all women, hamper their path to success.
“The issue of crime jeopardises the empowerment and development of women.”
Women have to educate themselves, and gain information about issues so they are not afraid to address and challenge them.
“The only way to survive is to go to school,” she says, adding that women also need to “have a thick skin”.
She says she will continue leading the “struggle” on any issue affecting her community, as she believes she has gained their respect and trust.
“They see me as a leader, not just as a lesbian.”
**Janis Kinnear is a Weekend Argus reporter
Saturday Argus