My dearest brothers,
I write this letter with a heavy heart, wearing an armour of shame.
There are beasts in our midst hunting down our daughters, sisters, mothers, nieces and aunts — raping, assaulting and killing them. These predators must be identified, arrested and locked away, with the keys thrown away.
Mzwakhe Mbuli once said: ❝Even in the jungle, there are those who hunt the hunters.❞
Now is the time to hunt down these monsters — without fear or favour — and make sure they face the full might of the law.
Some among us know these animals. Some hunt alongside them. And some are protecting them.
Shame on you.
It was American civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. who said: ❝Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.❞
We can no longer remain silent.
Shocking statistics released by the Independent Police Investigative Directorate (IPID) this week paint a deeply disturbing picture. According to the figures, 116 police officers were being investigated for rape during the 2025/26 financial year, with 72 of the alleged rape offences having been committed while the officers were on official duty.
These are men entrusted with protecting the public. Men who wear the uniform of the law. Men who are supposed to make our communities safer.
And then, as if to rub salt into our bleeding wounds, we saw suspended deputy national police commissioner General Shadrack Sibiya appearing in the Randburg Magistrate’s Court, where he is seeking bail following his arrest over allegations involving the rape of an 18-year-old woman at a Sandton strip club and the alleged sexual grooming of a 16-year-old girl.
The investigating officer, Detective Sergeant Nokukhanya Ndlovu, delivered explosive evidence in court while opposing Sibiya’s bail application, referring to eyewitness accounts, WhatsApp messages and video footage.
These are deeply serious allegations, and they must be tested through due process and the courts.
But the wider question remains: What is happening to us as men?
It took the discovery of the body of Kempton Park runner and Festival Mall manager, Elizabeth “Tsontso” Moselakgomo, to bring renewed attention to allegations that rapists were operating around Ekurhuleni — information that, according to reports, had not been made public earlier.
Moselakgomo, 38, went missing while jogging on September 7. Three days later, her partially clothed body was found in the Rhodesfield area of Kempton Park.
She was not the first victim.
And tragically, she may not be the last.
Months before Moselakgomo disappeared, a 23-year-old second-year university student was taking a morning walk in Norkem Park when three men travelling in a black Volkswagen Polo with tinted windows allegedly ambushed and raped her.
She fought back. She kicked one of her attackers and managed to escape.
She reported the rape to the police and was taken to hospital for medical treatment.
And then, according to her account, she saw the investigating officer for the last time.
Weeks later, on August 17, two of her alleged attackers arrived at her home while her parents were at work. She was assaulted, strangled and left for dead.
How did the men allegedly obtain her home address?
Was confidential information leaked?
Who was responsible?
These questions demand answers.
The young woman survived, but only after spending days in intensive care.
And yet, the question of how her alleged attackers obtained her address must not simply disappear into the darkness.
My brothers, is this the world you want to live in?
A world where our women are unsafe on the streets, unsafe while jogging, unsafe walking home and even unsafe inside their own houses?
Is this the kind of environment in which you want to raise your daughters — behind high walls, living in fear and constantly looking over their shoulders because criminals are allowed to roam our communities?
Is this the kind of society we want, where criminals and people entrusted with enforcing the law can allegedly work together to facilitate criminality?
These rapists are not ghosts.
They are not faceless.
They have names. They have families. They live among us.
And where there is credible evidence against them, they must be identified, arrested and prosecuted.
We cannot continue counting victims.
We cannot continue attending funerals.
We cannot continue expressing shock every time another woman becomes a statistic while alleged perpetrators escape accountability.
Where is Crime Intelligence?
Where is the State Security Agency when this country needs its institutions to protect its people?
And, most importantly, where are we as men?
What kind of brother are you if you cannot stand up for your sister?
What kind of father are you if you do not fight for a society in which your daughter can walk freely without fear?
What kind of husband are you if you remain silent when women are being abused?
What kind of uncle are you if you cannot stand up for your niece?
Being a man is not about dominating women.
It is not about intimidating the vulnerable.
It is not about proving how powerful you are.
It is about character. It is about responsibility. It is about protecting the vulnerable and holding fellow men accountable when they cross the line.
Now is the time, brothers, to stand up and be counted.
Now is the time to reclaim our streets and demand law and order in our communities.
Now is the time to clean our closets, confront the skeletons hiding inside them and come clean.
Now is the time to stop sitting comfortably on the fence simply because it has not happened to us.
Because tomorrow, it could be your daughter.
Your sister.
Your mother.
Your wife.
Your niece.
We must join forces and stand together against gender-based violence and the criminals who prey on our women and children.
The future of this country is in our hands.
We either change the tide, or we sink with it.
Your brother from another mother,
Mzilikazi wa Afrika is an award-winning investigative journalist and founder of Unpopular Opinion Pocast.
