This blog offers a series of concise snapshots charting the shifting conceptualisations of rape and sexual violence in Malawi from the pre-colonial era up to 1994. The aim is not to provide an exhaustive account, but rather to illuminate key moments where law, custom, and power converged to shape the lived realities of women and girls.

The timeline begins long before formal colonisation, capturing the ways in which indigenous systems regulated sexuality and women’s bodies. It moves through the arrival of missionaries in the 1860s, the imposition of British colonial rule from 1891, and the introduction of formal legal codes such as the 1930 Penal Code. The narrative continues through Malawi’s independence in 1964 and concludes in 1994—a pivotal year marking the end of President Hastings Kamuzu Banda’s authoritarian regime and the country’s transition to multi-party democracy. 1994 represents a watershed in Malawi’s political and legal history. The end of Banda’s rule and the advent of democratic reforms offered new possibilities for reimagining justice, gender relations, and legal protections.

By stopping here, the blog focuses on the historical foundations and legacies that continue to shape contemporary debates about sexual violence, without venturing into the complex terrain of post-democratic reforms—an area deserving its own dedicated analysis. The blog invites reflection on how the past continues to inform the present—and what it will take to build a future where women’s rights and dignity are truly at the centre.

Custom, Christianity and control (c.1860–1891): Before the law, there was the elders’ word

Long before Malawi was colonised, communities had systems that regulated sex and protected women — or so it seemed. In truth, these customs were more about controlling women and ensuring men’s easy access to women’s bodies than safeguarding them. Sex outside marriage for women? Illegal. Punishment involved cutting off body parts such as ears, eyes, or fingers, and could escalate to selling women or burning them to death. Sex outside marriage for men? Light punishment. Men only had to declare whether they wished to enter into marriage with an additional partner. Marital rape? Didn’t exist.

Husbands could beat, injure and even kill their wives for refusing sex. One man opened his wife’s vagina and pierced it with a knife for refusing sex. Another struck his wife with an axe four times on the head, after she refused to have sex with him and believed he had killed her, but the wife survived. Cases like these were quite common. Many men succeeded in killing their wives with no repercussions, underscoring the perception of women as property belonging to their husbands. The authority of the Chief reinforced the sexual submission of wives, highlighting women’s lack of bodily autonomy.[1]

If a girl was raped, the real concern wasn’t the violation of her body or her trauma — it was the shame her father and family would endure. The usual “solution”? Marry her off to the man who violated her. Compensation followed — not to the victim, but to her male relatives or the chief. This wasn’t justice for the woman — it was a transaction to restore family and community honour.[2]

Then came the missionaries in the 1860s, armed with Bibles, strict morality, and judgmental views of African sexuality—initiation ceremonies, lobola — bride price, adultery, polygamy, and divorce. They condemned local customs, controlled African sexual consent, but often turned a blind eye to sexual abuse happening right under their noses — in their mission schools and orphanages. Worse still, their writings portrayed African women’s sexuality through a lens of moral and racial judgement, interpreting local customs as evidence of sexual immorality and using these perceptions to justify both missionary work and colonial intervention.

 

The birth of a colonial legal culture (1891–1905): The courtroom was never hers

When Britain officially claimed Malawi (then Nyasaland) in 1891, colonialism was far from firmly establishing itself. Until 1897, the political landscape was unstable—British officials struggled with resistant chiefs, slave traders, and government robbers. The legal system was established in 1894, but it was only in 1902 that the first constitution of Nyasaland was adopted, known as the British Central Africa Order in Council. Now, English common law ruled — sort of, because in matters of African sexuality, the British Central Africa Order in Council allowed courts to apply customary law, as long as it was not in conflict with the British common law. The British Central Africa Order in Council, however, did not formalise laws of sexual offenses.[3] British magistrates often resorted to general British legal tenets in the absence of specific statutes tailored for the Malawian context.

During this time, justice largely remained in the hands of traditional courts. British courts only adjudicated mass rape and assaults during war conflicts. Colonial authorities, influenced by missionaries, depicted African women as hypersexual, lacking innocence, and inherently immoral. They described African women as indecent, coarse, impure, and unashamed, often portraying them as openly transgressing European conventions of decency and sexual restraint.[4] As such, sexual complaints of African women were dismissed, especially because perpetrators were African soldiers, police officers, and British officials working for the colonial government. African soldiers were supported by the colonial government because they were employed to fight imperial wars and to finance colonial activities. African police were utilised for maintaining order and control, helping to reinforce colonial authority. Additionally, the protection of British officials was heavily influenced by racial considerations. The experiences of women were overlooked amidst political pursuits.[5]

Missionaries, always calculating, adapted quickly. They were the first to take colonial authorities to court for ignoring mass sexual offences against African women, often asking the colonial government for the commission of inquiries. They started portraying African girls and women as innocent victims — but not for justice’s sake. They needed to protect their moral authority and keep potential converts interested.[6] Settlers, aligned with the position of missionaries, maintained that Africans had strong and unbreakable virtues and demanded justice for women. However, as women were sexually abused, ordinary African men were forced into labour as carriers for African soldiers on their way to war outside the country. Through grievances of sexual atrocities, settlers took the government to court to address a deeper concern, which was the loss of their labour.[7]

 

Custom vs. Christianity vs. Colonialism (1906–1929): A woman’s body in a legal tug-of-war

By the early 20th century (1906-1929), colonialism had become firmly entrenched. Court structures were fully established and operational. The adjudication of sexual offences was employed as a mechanism for exerting control over the African population, solidifying and strengthening colonial power. The battle over African women’s bodies intensified. British magistrates continued to integrate ‘British law’ and ‘Native law’ selectively to reinforce racial, gendered, and patriarchal hierarchies, often dismissing sexual offences.

Rape complaints were dismissed due to a lack of proof of marriage and witnesses, essentially upholding the idea that the rape of unmarried women was insignificant. The courts punished adulterous women and not men and allowed men to have multiple sexual partners through polygamy, but not women. The courts held the belief that women lie and dismissed cases based on a lack of proof of consent.[8] African men primarily viewed sexual relations within marriage, emphasizing communal negotiations over individual consent. African women linked views of rape and consent to personal agency and community expectations, often navigating these challenges to assert their autonomy and claim rights within colonial law.[9] Some women even collaborated with men in perpetrating offences against others. Missionaries largely remained silent on sexual violence but sought to impose a moral order that equated African customs with immorality.  Neither system ever truly protected African women. Justice was not the goal. Control was. This era laid bare how rape laws weren’t designed to support survivors, but were utilised as instruments of power.[10]

 

What started as family-based customs around honour and marriage evolved — under missionaries, settlers, and colonial officials — into a full-blown patriarchal system that criminalised African women’s sexuality, discredited their voices, and denied them justice. Independence didn’t undo that legacy. It simply gave it a new face”.

 

Regulating desire (1930–1963): Law and order, but not for her

Between 1930 and 1963, Malawi’s legal landscape regarding sexual offenses was fundamentally shaped by the enactment and application of the 1930 Penal Code, which introduced a formalised colonial legal framework specifically addressing rape and related sexual crimes.[11] The 1930 Penal Code finally spelled out rape laws in Malawi. Sounds like progress, right? Not quite. The definitions were narrow, requiring victims to prove penetration, coercion, and lack of consent, with corroborative witness testimonies often necessary.[12] The evidentiary burden was heavy and structurally biased against women, reflecting entrenched British patriarchal and racial attitudes.[13]

Consequently, many rape cases were dismissed or had charges reduced, often denying African women access to sexual justice.[14] Colonial magistrates continued to apply ‘native law’ selectively, particularly in matters of adultery and polygamy, reinforcing male authority over women’s sexuality.[15] The 1930 Penal Code notably excluded marital rape, upholding the prevailing belief that wives were legally bound to submit to their husbands’ sexual demands.[16] African men increasingly adapted to colonial legal norms by invoking consent as a defence, signaling a shift from traditional communal regulation of sexual relations toward an emphasis on individual choice, although dissatisfaction remained among men who felt women were insufficiently punished for adultery.[17]

The establishment of traditional courts in 1933 introduced a parallel legal system where sexual offenses were adjudicated according to customary law.[18] Unlike the colonial courts, these courts placed the burden of proof on the accused rather than the victim, presuming women’s testimonies credible. However, customary law framed sexual violence primarily within marital and communal contexts, positioning male figures—husbands, chiefs, fathers—as gatekeepers of women’s sexual consent. This framework rendered marital rape inconceivable[19] and severely restricted women’s sexual autonomy outside marriage, with extramarital sex punished harshly, especially for women.[20] Polygamy was culturally accepted, granting men sexual freedom without comparable consequences.[21] Some marriages were arranged by fathers.[22] Divorce initiated by women was rare and met with resistance.[23] Marriage— not justice —was the goal. Colonial officials and African elites found common ground in controlling women. The law became a double-edged sword — using both British and African customs to keep women’s bodies in check.  Missionaries, while condemning African sexual customs such as initiation rites, lobola, polygamy, adultery, and divorce, largely refrained from directly addressing rape and sexual violence. Instead, they framed sexual transgressions as sins against God, reinforcing a moral order that overlapped with but also conflicted with colonial and customary legal understandings of consent and sexual morality.[24]

By this time, the system was firmly entrenched: women’s pain was secondary to maintaining order — racial, patriarchal, and gendered.

 

Sexual violence in postcolonial Malawi (1964–1994): Banda’s dictatorship and the reinvention of patriarchy

Independence in 1964 brought hope, — but not for Malawi’s women. In the late 1960s, many Malawian men blamed British law for its lenient penalties regarding adultery and sexual abuse, which they felt contributed to the increase in divorce rates, sexual abuse cases, and broken marriages.[25] In 1967, under President Hastings Kamuzu Banda, customary law was put on par with British law, and many sexual abuse cases were handled in customary courts rather than British courts, which still retained white magistrates because of slow Africanization.

These courts continued to adhere to British law that defined rape strictly in terms of penetration, coercion, and force, and sexual abuse cases continued to be dismissed due to the lack of evidence for penetration, force, and consent. Banda’s regime also introduced morality laws, which dictated how women should dress, claiming these measures would reduce incidents of rape, effectively turning women’s bodies into political instruments of control.[26]

During Banda’s political campaigns, women were exploited for the sexual pleasure of Banda and his political leaders without their consent. Political rallies were mandatory, prompting women to devise strategies of resistance, such as cutting themselves and using their blood to simulate menstruation. Men who spoke out against the abuse of their wives faced punishment, while those seeking to divorce were reprimanded by the government. Many women who attended dances during Kamuzu Banda’s era contracted HIV and died, with some marriages collapsing as perpetrators went unpunished. Throughout this period, Christians remained silent in their sermons about rape, continuing to emphasise the values of marriage and female submission without addressing the underlying issues of abuse.

Customary law and British legal codes, acting in par, now fully African-owned, still operated to control the bodies of women. Nothing had changed. The law wasn’t about justice — it was about order.

 

Conclusion

What started as family-based customs around honour and marriage evolved — under missionaries, settlers, and colonial officials — into a full-blown patriarchal system that criminalised African women’s sexuality, discredited their voices, and denied them justice. Independence didn’t undo that legacy. It simply gave it a new face.

In modern Malawi, the ghosts of these histories still linger in courtrooms, in culture, in religions, and in conversations around sexual violence. Until we reckon with this past, the law- British and Customary will continue to be more about controlling women than protecting them, and religions will continue to silence and dismiss the crime of rape.

 

Why this history matters today

The history of sexual regulation and violence in Malawi reflects the ongoing subjugation of women’s bodies to patriarchal, colonial, and political power. Laws have often served to maintain social order at the expense of women’s safety and autonomy. Both customary and colonial legal systems have prioritised communal honour and male authority over women’s needs, raising questions about whose interests these laws actually serve. The silence of religious authorities and the indifference of leaders contribute to a culture that normalises violence against women. When women’s suffering is ignored or obscured, justice is actively denied.

Despite changes, many legal definitions still fail to reflect the realities of sexual violence, perpetuating social norms that blame survivors. Women’s bodies remain a contested terrain in a system that often prioritises order over justice. Key questions arise: What would a justice system that centres survivors look like? How can reforms challenge patriarchal norms in law? What forms of resistance are already emerging, and how can they be supported? A transformative path forward involves listening to women’s stories and ensuring their leadership in legal and policy reforms, challenging historical structures that silence their voices. The struggle for justice in Malawi is about transforming the future. Will the law be an instrument of control or a foundation for justice? These questions are urgent, as their answers will shape the moral and political character of the nation. The work ahead is formidable, but also necessary and long overdue.

References:

[1] MNA, BA 1/5/4, Blantyre District Native Criminal Court, Rex vs. Palula, Case Number 182, 23^rd September 1910; see also MNA, BA 1/5/4, Blantyre District Native Criminal Court. Rex vs laurambt. Case Number 194, Assault. 3 October, 1910; see MNA, BA 1/5/4, Blantyre District Native Criminal Court, Case Number 232. Rex vs Zacharia. 1 November 1910; MNA, BA 1/5/3, Case Number, District Native Court, Blantyre; MNA, BA 1/5/3, Case Number 169, Rex vs Mwali Alias Maloya. Assault. 16 September, 1909. Blantyre.

[2] MNA BC 1/3/2 Central African Archives, Rex vs John of Ndawambi, Attempted Rape and Assault, Case number 3, 8^th January, 1906.

[3] MNA, 1898-1902 Gazettes, Order in Council 1902

[4] Harry Hamilton Johnstone, British Central Africa: Light in darkness, (London: Routledge, 1890)

[5] Central African Times, November 8, 1902, p. 9.

[6] Central African Times, November 8, 1902, p. 9

[7] Central African Times, 22 November 1902, p. 7

[8] MNA, BA 1/5/4, Blantyre District Native Criminal Court, Case Number 268, Adultery. Lewis vs HaveBoasi and Labecca. 2 December, 1910.

[9] MNA BF 1/1/1, Case Number 38, Adultery, Benis vs Ngoli, 17 November 1913

[10] DRCA, Fourth General Missionary Conference, Fourth Day, Tuesday, 16^th September, 1924, Miss Low, Afternoon Session, p. 91-98, also see Miss I. B Murray, p. 98.

[11] See MNA, The Laws of Malawi, 1930 Penal Code

[12] See MNA, The Laws of Malawi, 1930 Penal Code; see also Joanna Bourke, Rape: A History from 1860 to Present (Virago Press: London, 2007).

[13] Joanna Bourke, Rape: A History from 1860 to Present (Virago Press: London, 2007).

[14] See for instance, MNA, Bf 3/1/2, Dedza District Magistrate, Regina vs Ishmail Kambina, Rape, 1935, January, 1936, Dedza; MNA, Lilongwe Magistrate Court, Criminal Case No. 13, Rex vs Seperato Kachiswe, Indecent Assault, Lilongwe, 1960.

[15] MNA, Rex vs Edison Bvumbwe, Assault Causing actual bodily harm, Dedza, 8 January, 1944, Dedza.

[16] MNA, The Laws of Malawi, 1930 Penal Code, MNA, Central African Archives, Assault, BB 1/2/2, No date, Chikwawa; also see Ngeyi Ruth Kanyongolo and Bernadette Malunga, The Treatment of Consent in Sexual Assaults Law in Malawi, the equality effect, www.theequalityeffect.org May, 2011.

[17] MNA, BR 1/2/8, Thyolo District Magistrate Court, Criminal Case No. 282, Rex vs James, Adultery, 1932, Thyolo

[18] MNA, J 5/2/1, Nyasaland Protectorate, Native Courts in Nyasaland (Chichewa-English), Government Printer, 1954, Zomba.

[19] MNA, Local Courts, Case Record Book, 1954-1961, Box No. 6186, Case No. 6, 10 January, 1961, Kasinje, Ntcheu.

[20] Martin Chanock, “Neo-Traditionalism and the Customary Law in Malawi”, The Journal of Legal Pluralism and Unofficial Law, Vol. 10. No. 16 (1978), pp. 80-91.

[21] MNA, Local Courts, Case Record Book, 1954-1961, Case No. 20, Kasinje, Ntcheu, 20 January, 1961.

[22] MNA, Chief Authority Kyungu, Case Book, Adultery, Jeremiah vs Ejuon Sicali, 6 August, 1936, Karonga; also see Martin Chanock, “Neo-Traditionalism and the Customary Law in Malawi”, The Journal of Legal Pluralism and Unofficial Law, Vol. 10. No. 16 (1978), pp. 80-91

[23] MNA, Local Courts, Case Record Book, 1954-1961, Box No 6186, 3 February, 1961. Kasinje, Ntcheu; also see Martin Chanock, “Neo-Traditionalism and the Customary Law in Malawi”, The Journal of Legal Pluralism and Unofficial Law, Vol. 10. No. 16 (1978), pp. 80-91.

[24] The Dutch reformed Church Archives, (Hereafter DRCA), S/15/6/17, KS 1031, 1927-1971. Malawi Notes, Federated Board, General Administration Commission, Report of the Sixth General Missionary Conference held at Nkhoma, Nyasaland, 28 September to 2^nd October, 1949

[25] Martin Chanock, “Neo-Traditionalism and the Customary Law in Malawi”, The Journal of Legal Pluralism and Unofficial Law, Vol. 10. No. 16 (1978), pp. 80-91

[26] MNA, Acts of Malawi Parliament, The Decency in Dress Act of 1973, Section 2(1 )(a)

 

About the author

Chifundo Terrisa Kamba is a historian, researcher, and gender justice advocate currently completing a PhD in History at Stellenbosch University. Her work focuses on the historical, legal, and religious dimensions of sexual violence in Malawi and broader Southern Africa. She has over 13 years of experience in tertiary education and serves as a Lecturer of History at the University of Malawi. Driven by both academic insight and a deep commitment to social change, Kamba is in the process of establishing a Malawi-based Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) dedicated to research and practical interventions aimed at ending sexual violence against women and children. Her vision is to create a platform that bridges historical research with survivor-centred advocacy, community engagement, and policy reform. Kamba is eager to connect with researchers, practitioners, and organizations across Malawi, Southern Africa, and globally who are working toward similar goals. She believes that through collaborative, historically grounded approaches, it is possible to confront the root causes of sexual violence and build more just and supportive systems for survivors.