The Teddy Bear Clinic for abused children opened its doors in 1986, in response to the urgent need for medical examinations for sexually abused children. Since then, it has evolved into an organisation that offers a comprehensive array of victim support services.
From therapeutic counselling to court preparation, and even a diversion programme for children who are themselves guilty of initiating abuse, the Teddy Bear Foundation (TBF) is dedicated to restoring hope and empowering young survivors.
When we visit its premises in Parktown, Johannesburg, child protection week has ended but abuse against children has not. The foundation's founder and clinical director, Shaheda Omar, along with her team, have witnessed little change over the years that they’ve been working with abused children.
“We’re in 2023 and we’re still seeing brutalisation, violation, murders, abductions, kidnapping, online exploitation, child trafficking and muti murders with children being chopped into pieces. How gruesome is that, and it's often people known to the child,” says Omar.
A cold drink, a soccer match, and then a brutal act of rape. A high-school teacher, entrusted with the wellbeing of a 16-year-old pupil, lures her to his home where he rapes her. Overwhelmed by shame and fear, the now-pregnant teenager finds herself trapped in silence, too afraid to share her harrowing experience or testify against her teacher in court.
In another incident, a mother discovers her six-year-old daughter's bloodstained underwear.
This, together with the awkward way the girl is walking, reveals that a horrifying incident of sexual abuse took place in the school toilets. The culprit is a nine-year-old boy.
In another case involving a nine-year-old boy, the child harms his own little sister, perpetuating a cycle of pain within their home.
These stories represent a glimpse into the thousands of cases of abuse that the TBF has encountered in just the past four months.
The foundation’s mission is to help to achieve a world free from abuse, where its support is no longer needed.
However, the workload has only grown, both in number and severity, reflecting the rise in food insecurity, unemployment and poverty that contribute to abuse.
Omar reflects on the past 30 years and highlights a concerning trend — the increasing sophistication of abuse. The advance of technology means that in some cases abuse has become more difficult to detect, with online exploitation playing a significant role.
With children gaining access to the internet, they are exposed to online predators who operate under false identities. They can be lured into deceptive advertisements or manipulated into compromising situations for financial gain.
A case that comes to mind is that of massage parlour owner Gerhard Ackerman. In April the Gauteng high court found him guilty of running a child sex abuse ring between 2019 and 2021. He was convicted of more than 700 charges related to rape, human trafficking, sexual grooming of children, attempted murder and sexual exploitation of minors.
Ackerman targeted vulnerable boys between 14 and 16, and lured them using social media. He then groomed the boys and sold them for sexual services to clients at his massage parlour in Johannesburg.
“The Ackerman case is a typical example of how abuse is getting more covert,” says Omar.
“The nature of abuse is becoming more and more sophisticated. It's becoming more difficult to detect. Previously, our focus was on physical abuse, corporal punishment, the non-accidental injuries, sexual abuse was high on the radar.
“But now with the advent of technology, we are finding that it's becoming more subtle, more hidden. It's not as visible to the naked eye because of the online exploitation, where more and more children have access to the internet,” she says.
Another concerning case that the foundation is dealing with is in an informal settlement on the East Rand.
A group of mothers in the settlement are prostituting their daughters in exchange for money to buy food, pay for shelter and, in some cases, school fees. These girls, aged 12 to 15, are forced to go out at night and sell their bodies. For Omar these cases speak to the dire socioeconomic challenges.
“Poverty, instead of declining, has grown, unemployment is on the increase, especially among youth. The financial circumstances affect the psychosocial ills that confront us. This is a high risk factor, which propels people to move towards survival,” she says.
The correlations prompted the TBF to extend its reach beyond the immediate impact of abuse by providing essential support such as food parcels and vouchers to families in need.
Poverty, instead of declining, has grown, unemployment is on the increase, especially among youth. The financial circumstances affect the psychosocial ills that confront us. This is a high risk factor, which propels people to move towards survival
The organisation became particularly aware of this need during the pandemic.
Already providing therapy, court preparation, medical, psychological and forensic assessments for abused children, during the pandemic the organisation had to change its approach.
When international funding was slashed, it had to work harder with fewer resources. Despite this, at the height of the pandemic in 2020 it was able to provide more than 5,000 food parcels to families in need.
It also donated masks to underprivileged communities and data to parents, enabling them to call for therapy.
Omar says the climate of economic uncertainty and job security fears have a ripple effect that can lead to domestic violence. Her team knows food insecurity in a home should be addressed quickly to try to prevent it causing domestic violence and child abuse.
This pattern was evident in a story I reported on three years ago in Vlakfontein, south of Johannesburg. A boy of 16 and his 14-year-old twin siblings told me their father had locked the twins in their shack, closed the windows and tried to gas them.
They and their mother, 53, endured frequent physical abuse. The mother finally got a protection order against her husband and the TBF provided therapy for the children.
Hunger was part of their ordeal — when the pandemic hit, the mother was in KwaZulu-Natal and, because of travel bans, could not rejoin the children, who were left to fend for themselves for eight weeks.
Their food ran out and they turned to neighbours for help. But soon the neighbours could no longer help because they too were struggling.
“I was scared,” the 16-year-old said at the time. “I was looking after my brother and sister and we ate cabbage and mealie meal, but then it was finished and we had no food. There was just a tub of atchar in the fridge. So I took that and sold it for R20 to buy something to eat.”
Eventually a social worker helped the children with food parcels.
Omar is driven by a commitment to the wellbeing of children and vulnerable people. Born in Lichtenburg in North West, she grew up in Ferreirasdorp in Johannesburg. Her background of adversity has made her grateful for everything: she believes that she has been entrusted with skills and knowledge to enable her to reach out.
Those who work at the TBF face stress and trauma every day, so regular debriefing sessions are part of their routine. They also take mental-health wellness days off.
“It takes a lot, the caseloads are high, the stress is high. It's sensitive, inflammatory work. The vicarious trauma is something that's inevitable. So we provide debriefing with external consultants. It's difficult. Sometimes we think we are managing or coping, but our body tells us we're not,” Omar says.
Recent crime statistics paint a disheartening truth — of the 61 reported cases of rape in schools, a staggering 43 were committed by fellow pupils.
“We are getting the ones that have been brought to the attention of the authorities. There are many undetected cases where victims have not disclosed their ordeal. The figures are not accurate; and it's definitely underreported,” Omar says.
Amid the darkness, there are stories of resilience and healing.
One such case involved a woman who was shot five times by her husband in January last year. She ran away, leaving their five-year-old child as the sole witness to the crime. The TBF stepped in, providing the young girl with a therapist who engaged her in weekly play therapy sessions.
We are getting the ones that have been brought to the attention of the authorities. There are many undetected cases where victims have not disclosed their ordeal. The figures are not accurate; and it's definitely underreported
“She lost her speech due to the trauma,” says Omar. “But we didn't force her to speak. Instead, the therapist consistently played with her, week after week.”
And then, a breakthrough occurred. Holding a stick in the play therapy room, the child re-enacted the violence she had witnessed, and found her voice again.
Today, she is doing remarkably well, living with a grandmother. Her father went to jail. Though the psychological scars remain, she has regained a semblance of normality, proving that healing and moving forward are indeed possible.
These are the stories that give Omar and the social workers and psychologists at the foundation hope.
“People ask me, 'But why are you here when things are so bad, so bleak, so dismal, so grim?' The answer is that there are so many success stories that we can celebrate. There’s hope for every child, I think that's what keeps us all motivated. That's what propels us and gives us impetus to continue,” Omar says.
She emphasises that the scars of abuse change a child forever. “No child will ever remain the same, no person remains the same.”
What keeps her going?
“When I see a child smiling,” she replies.
She describes the way children who have arrived at the TBF in tears, nervous in the unfamiliar surroundings, come to trust their new refuge. They cry again later, when they have to leave.
At the heart of the TBF approach is a simple yet profound gesture — the gift of a teddy bear. Each child who enters the foundation’s care receives one, a comfort symbolising comfort and security. Scientifically proven to reduce stress, these cuddly friends become steadfast companions, providing solace and support during the healing process.
“I would like to see myself out of a job, where they won't need this kind of support any more. Ideally, we wish for a world free of abuse,” Omar says.
Until then, there’s a teddy and time for every child who's hurting.
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