LIMPOPO –  It’s the end of a busy day at Malamulele – a township that punctuates the strip of road that runs from Moeketsi to Thohoyandou. There is an unusual chill in the air, announcing the advent of one more mild winter at Malamulele. A couple returns from work. Their kids return from school. It is their usual mid-week routine.

As the sun sets, the skies darken, the gates are locked, and the doors shut. Soon it is supper time. The atmosphere is jovial. There is much laughter. The boy child talks about sports. The girl child needs help with her school homework.

Later, the parents watch the news on TV. Before retiring for the night, goodnight wishes are exchanged between the family members.

But alas, in the dead of night, horror comes creeping into the home. Robbers break in to terrorise the family. In the morning, the next day, the girl child is cowering in the corner of her bedroom, broken and violated. The boy child, lying in a pool of blood, later succumbed to the gunshot wounds in the hospital.

How I wish all of the above were the beginnings of a fictitious novel or film. But in this case, the truth is not merely stranger than fiction; the truth is much more devastating than fiction.

Early on May 6, the sanctity of a home in Malamulele was desecrated. A young man’s life was violently taken, and a young woman’s life was destroyed. Where do the surviving members of this family pick up the pieces of their lives, and how?

Nevertheless, one thing stands out about the people of Malamulele, Limpopo, are fighters. Fighters who once fought, tooth and nail, to get a municipality that would finally serve their town with dignity and efficiency.

But should they fight against the new enemy of criminals who are holding the entire township hostage? Unfortunately, the people of Malamulele have no choice.

It’s time to fight again. But this time, we fight not for services, but to regain the moral compass that once defined our community. We fight to protect our families, our girls, our women, and the community at large.

We are at a point where even our police stations are not safe, literally. A few years ago, the Malamulele police station was robbed. No dramatic retelling needed; a simple Google search will confirm the facts. How humiliating.

But that’s not the worst of it, nothing compares to what happened at Malamulele town, early morning of May 6.

Now, again, we are left with blood on the floor, broken hearts, and yet another tired press release – from the police – promising yet another “manhunt.” To what end? Until when?

We are tired. Another #Justice4, another slogan we’ve heard too many times. Everyone knows the crimes that plague our communities: gender-based violence, home invasions, and murder. We are not safe in our homes, not in our schools, not even in our police stations. What have we become? What kind of barbarism is this?

In this country, safety is a myth for most. Justice is always reactive, never preventative. The more horrifying the story, the louder the outrage, but what happens afterwards? The president might speak. The SAPS will issue statements. But the trauma? It stays. It lingers. It scars.

The Malamulele tragedy is not isolated. It is part of a national collapse of values, of systems, of leadership.

And so, it is not enough for the Provincial Commissioner to “order” more resources after a someone has been raped, blood has been spilled. Where were the patrols before? Where was the visible policing before? Where was the system that should have protected the family before?

Press statements are no substitutes for justice. Hashtags provide no solution; they are sheer cries of desperation by community members who no longer know what to do. To the police we say: Build capacity in the police force. Train them. Equip them. Support them. Make prevention, not reaction, the standard.

We must confront this for what it is: a moral failure, not just a criminal one.

I write this in grief. But also, in anger. Because someone’s brother is gone. Someone’s daughter has been violated. And somewhere at Malamulele, a family is sitting in silence, asking: “Why us?”

We cannot keep failing our people like this. We need police who are embedded in our communities, not just deployed to them. We need victim support that’s not just symbolic. To the government, national, provincial and municipal, we say enough is enough. We need justice that is loud, swift, and relentless.

Today the rapists and the killers have invaded the Khosa family home. Tomorrow they will be invading yours, yours, and mine.