UNDYING VOICES
By the time the placards went up and the chants filled the streets from Notwane grounds to Parliament, it was no longer just about Tshepi. The country was being forced to look at itself.
The gripe - who protects the girl child when the system meant to protect her fails? Tshepi was 13.
Those pushing for justice say her death has been marked by delays, unanswered questions, and a growing sense that urgency has been replaced by silence.
As the case gained attention, so did frustration. And then, slowly at first, people began to speak.
Among them was Kemmy Mpinang. She is the founder of Re A Bua Foundation, an organisation working with gender based violence (GBV) cases, creating safe spaces for survivors, and advocating for justice and prevention.
But she does not begin her story with titles.
“Beyond the work I do, I am just a person shaped by my community,” she said. “You see both the beauty of our people and the pain that many silently carry.”
It is that duality, strength and silence that sits at the heart of her work. Mpinang did not arrive at advocacy by chance. She speaks about it as something that was built over time, through what she witnessed, what she heard, and what she experienced herself.
She is a survivor of GBV. Her ex-husband once assaulted her. She reported the case to the police while injured. “I was bruised and bleeding,” she said. “My case was never attended to until court day.”
For her, that moment did not end when the injuries healed. It stayed, shaping how she sees every other story that sounds too familiar.
So when Tshepi’s case emerged, Mpinang did not first process it as an activist. “As a person, it broke me,” she said.
She speaks of thinking about the fear, the loneliness, and the possibility that a child could suffer while systems meant to protect her stood still. It was not just anger.
It was something heavier, something that made silence feel like complicity.
“When I saw the pain of the family and the lack of cooperation, I knew I could not stay quiet,” she said.
And she didn’t. Through Re A Bua Foundation, Mpinang began raising awareness, pushing conversations into the open, and mobilising people who were already carrying their own frustrations.
What started as conversations became action. A march was organised. People showed up. Some carried placards. Others carried grief. Many carried both.
From there, the movement grew into something more structured. A petition was drafted and submitted to Parliament, calling for what supporters describe as basic demands: a transparent and urgent investigation, accountability from the police, the release and testing of Tshepi’s swabs, interviews with those close to her, and the involvement of an independent investigative team.
Mpinang describes that moment not as procedural, but symbolic. “It was not just about handing over a document,” she said. “It was about carrying the voices of people who are tired of being ignored.”
Across communities and online platforms, those voices have been loud. “The support has been overwhelming,” she said. “Batswana are the real heroes... they gave me strength.”
Yet alongside the support, there has also been frustration. Mpinang claims that engagement from authorities has been limited.
“There has been little to no response,” she said, adding that there have been instances where efforts appear to be blocked.
Authorities have not publicly responded in detail to these claims.
As the movement gained visibility, it also began attracting scrutiny. A Facebook account identified as Happy Omang accused Mpinang of being linked to a political agenda aimed at destabilising the government, suggesting
she was associated with a broader alliance and had prior knowledge of national incidents.
Mpinang rejects those claims. “I am not politically affiliated with any party,” she said. “When I see wrong, I talk about it without any hesitation.”
She explained that in trying to get the petition to the President, she approached the ruling party first and was redirected elsewhere. “It was never about a party,” she said. “We just needed someone who could assist us.”
But as the movement grew louder, so did the risks. In a statement that marked a turning point, Oemelenna Tshedu, a relative of Tshepi and one of the early leaders of the movement, announced that she would be stepping back.
Her reason was personal. “The death threats against me have increased drastically,” she said.
She revealed that the threats had extended beyond her, targeting her daughter and other family members, including Onkemetse Tshedu and Karabo Tshedu.
“My safety is no longer guaranteed,” she said. She stepped away from social media, withdrew from public engagement, and chose to work directly with the police moving forward.
“As a mother, the safety of my children must come first,” she said.
Even so, she expressed gratitude to those who had stood with the cause, noting that their voices had helped bring attention to the case. She also expressed hope that justice would continue through official channels.
For Mpinang, the developments only deepened what she believes the case represents. “It exposes the failure of systems meant to protect vulnerable people, especially children,” she said.
She also pointed to cultural challenges: how abuse is often hidden, how conversations are avoided, how silence becomes normalised.
When asked what justice for Tshepi would look like, “Truth. Accountability,” she said. “And making sure no other child goes through the same.”
But even as those words are spoken, the reality remains uncertain. The investigation continues. The questions remain. The voices persist.
For now, the petition has formally reached the highest levels of government. It was handed over to the Vice President last Thursday, and he is expected to respond or take action within two weeks.