THE screens of our television sets and the docks of our civil courts are flooded with a disturbing, recurring narrative.

Day after day, reality DNA shows and legal broadcasts lay bare stories of brothers-in-law and uncles-in-law engaging in sexual relationships with their sisters-in-law and nieces-in-law.

Some of these encounters are masked as consensual affairs; many others are overt acts of sexual violence.

Looking at how pervasive these cases are, one has to ask why these immoral interactions are so deeply entrenched in our society.

The answer often traces back to a single word: Chiramu.

Chiramu refers to a traditional, playful relationship permitted between men and their varamu, their sisters-in-law or nieces-in-law.

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Deeply rooted in certain aspects of Zimbabwean culture, this custom is closely tied to practices like chimutsamapfihwa, where a younger sister or niece marries the widowed brother-in-law to replace a deceased relative, or chigadzamapfihwa, where she becomes a co-wife while her relative is still alive, often to remedy childlessness.

While the modern world may view the idea of sisters sharing a husband with scepticism, these practices remain active realities for many families who see absolutely nothing strange about them.

However, the line between innocent traditional banter and dangerous opportunism has become terribly blurred.

In investigating the modern reach of this custom, I spoke with a young woman who agreed to share her story on the condition of anonymity.

Her experience highlights how economic desperation can corrupt tradition.

Encouraged by her own mother to make a romantic move on her wealthy brother-in-law, she was given revealing clothing to wear whenever he visited, all in an effort to secure the same comfortable lifestyle her married sister enjoyed.

While women’s empowerment is about self-determination, using a regressive cultural loophole to infiltrate a sibling’s marriage is deeply unsettling.

Though her sister and several family members initially objected, the family ultimately capitulated, and she was installed as the second wife.

Where the culture turns truly dark, however, is when it is used to silence victims of outright abuse.

Another young woman I interviewed recently took the brave step of suing her uncle-in-law for sexual assault.

She recounted how the abuse began under the guise of innocent chiramu, playful touching and constant teasing, with the uncle reminding her that she was a “bonus wife” who came with his marriage.

By the time she realised the boundaries of chiramu were being dangerously crossed, the uncle forced himself on her.

When she confided in her aunt, she was told to keep the assault a secret.

Though her own mother eventually stepped in to report the matter to the police, extended family members from both sides immediately intervened, pressuring them to withdraw the legal charges.

They suggested settling the matter outside of court with traditional damages and lobola, arguing that such behaviour from an uncle-in-law was culturally normal.

We must call this what it is, chiramu has evolved into a convenient excuse for sexual exploitation, a shield used by predators to take advantage of vulnerable young women.

It feels less like a sacred ancestral boundary and more like a loophole designed by historical opportunists to legitimise the grooming of female relatives.

It is absurd that in the modern era, a married man can feel entitled to fondle a young relative under the pretext of a custom established centuries ago.

As Zimbabweans, we cannot continue to normalise a culture that compromises the safety of our girls.

When tradition shields rapists and child molesters from legal accountability, that tradition loses its right to exist.

Chiramu, chimutsamapfihwa and chigadzamapfihwa may have been created by our ancestors, but we must remember that we are the ancestors of tomorrow.

It is entirely within our power to draft a new cultural legacy, one where girls and young women can finally feel safe in the presence of their male relatives.