In the town of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, nearly 400 women have been murdered during the past decade. A benefit concert and documentary screening have been organised to raise vital funds for the community's rape crisis centre. CLEM BASTOW investigates.

The Federal Government's recent campaign regarding the prevention of violence against women certainly opened a lot of people's eyes to a particularly upsetting and alarming occurrence. Spare a thought, then, for the women (and their children and families) of the Mexican frontier town of Ciudad Juarez, where around 370 women have been ritualistically gang-raped, murdered and dumped over the last ten years. Sally Meisenheimer, from Amigos de las Mujeres de Juarez, a group based in New Mexico that provides support for the families of the murdered women in Juarez, describes the outlook as bleak. "Every activist that we work with has been threatened in one way or another. Most of the mothers [of victims] have been threatened, one activist they attempted to kidnap her, two activists in Chihuahua have been charged with sedition, you know, I mean that's a very serious crime and all that stuff is an attempt to intimidate activists, intimidate mothers' groups and activist groups that are working on the issue. I think it's really important that the international light be on the issue to help keep the people safe for one thing."

It wasn't long before the terrible news from Juarez spread internationally. Local writer and music industry personality Pheona Donohoe first heard about the issue of Juarez's history of femicide during a routine interview with a band, namely the then-still functioning At The Drive-In. "In 2001, I interviewed Cedric and Tony from At The Drive-In and they spoke about growing up in El Paso and what it was like across the border in Juarez. They were a politically aware band and this was reflected in their lyrics, especially Invalid Litter Dept, which was written about the murders."

Though it was the first time she'd been made aware of the murders, Donohoe later came face to face with the ever-unfolding aftermath of Juarez's femicide when she spent some time in the region last year. "After some travelling, I relocated to El Paso in August of last year. My apartment was downtown, five minutes from the main border crossing bridge. Many of my friends had family in Juarez and I would cross the border with them. I spent a lot of time at my friend Vanessa's parents' place and her mother Sylvia would tell me about the murders in Juarez. Sylvia actually took me to a screening of Senorita Extraviada at UTEP which coincided with the V-Day protest march in February."

Senorita Extraviada (Young Missing Women), a film by Lourdes Portillo that examines the history of the murders, opened Donohoe's eyes further to the terrible truths of Juarez, but - unable to speak the language fluently and without an income to donate to the cause - she returned home, frustrated that she couldn't help out more than she would have liked. "When I returned to Australia a few months ago, I started working full time. Every two hours, I was earning the equivalent of someone [in Juarez]'s weekly wage. This brought on a sense of guilt that here I was in this protected environment with award wages and Workcover, a reliable police force and the federal government launching a national 'Violence Against Women - Australia Says No' campaign. I started putting aside one day's wage each week and ended up spending the money organising the Women of Juarez benefits."

Donohoe has arranged for Senorita Extraviada to be shown in Melbourne along with a benefit concert at the Corner Hotel, featuring singer/songwriter Clare Bowditch, Katie Noonan from George in duet with Paul Grabowsky, and Adam Cole and the Pollen Choir, with proceeds going directly to the town's nearby rape crisis centre, Casa Amiga. This issue is one particularly close to Bowditch's heart. "Just after New Year's in 2001, I took myself on a little trip across the border to Mexico. I had no idea of the situation in Juarez and had not thought things through very well - just planned to stay overnight at the Juarez bus-station. I befriended a girl called Adriana on the bus, and she told me that women really weren't safe in towns like Juarez. I thought I was pretty tough and didn't take her word for it. I planned to sleep in the station overnight and catch my connecting bus the next morning. Upon arrival at the Juarez bus station, however, I must say I have never felt more terrified in my life. I decided I had no choice by to trust this girl Adriana. She put me up for the night in a hotel. Walking back to the hotel, we were approached several times by men offering to walk with us, asking what in the world two women were doing alone at night. I didn't know this girl from a bar of soap but I felt it was either trust her or trust myself to the dark Juarez night. I did not really sleep a wink."

Thankfully for Bowditch, the kindness of strangers saved her soul, but others have not been so fortunate. "I never really had a chance to thank Adriana for looking after me," she recalls. "When I think about other women who are forced to wait at deserted bus-stops late at night with no other means of transport and of their vulnerability, it makes me extremely angry. When Pheona approached me for this benefit, and told me in detail about some of the things that had been happening to women in that town, I felt quite passionate about being involved."