THE BLOOD OF OUR CHILDREN IS ON THE HANDS OF THE MONARCH
The lifeless body of little Tifezile Gwebu, the Jericho child who went missing days ago, has been found. Her fragile body, full of promise and innocence, was discovered brutally murdered inside a homestead. Family members confirmed this heartbreaking news on Thursday morning. Eswatini is once again mourning the loss of a child whose only crime was being born into a kingdom that no longer protects its people.
Tifezile’s tragic death is not an isolated case. The kidnapping and murder of children, often for suspected ritual purposes, has become a horrifying and regular reality in our country. These are not just stories whispered in the dark corners of villages. These are real children. Real families. Real tears. And behind this pain is a system that has failed us all.
As a political activist and a father, my heart breaks with the Gwebu family. I offer them my deepest condolences, though I know that no words can ever be enough. What comfort can be found when a child’s life is stolen in such a horrific way? What justice exists in a country where children are hunted, taken, and killed for rituals, yet the state remains silent?
Let’s be honest. The root of this crisis lies in the foundation of the absolute monarchy. A system that puts the lives of royals above the lives of the people. A system that allows power to be concentrated in the hands of one man and his circle, while the rest of us are left to fend for ourselves.
King Mswati III, the monarch of this land, continues to live in excess and luxury. He travels the world in private jets, celebrates birthdays worth millions, and builds more palaces—while our children are being butchered in the bushes. Where is the King’s voice when children like Tifezile are killed? Where is his grief? Where is his leadership?
He sends police to beat and jail political activists, but those same police are nowhere to be seen when families report missing children. The intelligence services that monitor and spy on activists cannot track down the ritual killers operating in our communities. Why? Because our safety is not their priority.
Instead of a people’s government that would act fast to protect every citizen, we have a monarchy that only protects itself.
I cry not just for Tifezile, but for every child who now lives in fear. For every parent who holds their children tighter when they go to school. For every family that cannot sleep peacefully at night. Eswatini is bleeding. We are living in a country where human life means nothing unless you are born into power.
Tifezile’s death must be the last straw. We cannot allow her death to be just another statistic, just another forgotten child. She must become a symbol. A turning point. Her innocent blood cries out for justice—and that justice will never come until we change this system from the ground up.
To the Gwebu family, may your hearts find peace in the arms of a people who grieve with you. May you be surrounded by love, strength, and the courage to carry on, knowing that your child’s memory will never be forgotten by those who still fight for freedom.
To the people of Eswatini, let us rise up. Let us demand that our children be protected. Let us say no more to ritual killings, no more to royal silence, no more to a broken system.
Tifezile deserved to live. And we, as a nation, must make sure her death was not in vain.
