Indigenous wisdom offers pathways to healing rooted in community caregiving

“FIRST was the life, not a book. Only in life does the book become life” (Okure). These words remind us that theology and reflection begin with lived experience, not abstract ideas.

- REV NOBUNTU PENXA-MATHOLENI

NEVONTY PENZEKA-MATHETHENI

The stories of women living with invisible wounds bring this truth to life. In a recent study, one woman told me how, after losing her husband during the Covid-19 pandemic, she disclosed her depression at work, only to be labelled “mentally unstable” and denied promotion. Since then, she has hidden her struggles, taking leave rather than seeking support.

Another said, “in our community, we just carry on with it. There is no time to be depressed.” For her, depression is a luxury one cannot afford. Life must go on - food must be on the table, children cared for. This is her community's way of survival: numbing the pain and masking the depression to keep moving. It is here that Madipoane Masenya’s metaphor of artificial horns becomes striking, showing how people craft visible strength to conceal invisible wounds.

Masenya tells of a cow insecure about her natural horns, ridiculed by others for being unattractive. Succumbing to pressure, the cow undergoes surgery to wear horns that conform to what others deem acceptable. Much like the cow, many of us hide pain behind masks, conforming to societal expectations that deny our true selves.

This invisible masking is what I call inxeba elingaphakathi (isiXhosa for “the invisible wound”). It captures emotional, psychological, and spiritual scars carried silently across generations. For many South African women, these wounds are compounded by systemic oppression, gendered violence, and historical marginalisation. The pain is often unspoken, inexpressible in words, yet it shapes how women navigate life, work, and community.