![Djakagbe Kaba, head of the women's organisation AGACFEM. Photo©Ruth Mcdowell Djakagbe Kaba, head of the women's organisation AGACFEM. Photo©Ruth Mcdowell](http://www.theafricareport.com/images/stories/djakagbe%20kabaruth%20mcdowell.jpg)
Category: Blog
AWDF Co-Founder Launches New Blog Above Whispers
AWDF Co-Founder Launches New Blog Above Whispers
AWDF Co-founder Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi has launched a new blog targeted at mature audiences.
Above Whispers is a space “primarily, (but not exclusively) for middle-aged women, and will provide an opportunity for people to engage in discussions about a range of issues such as politics, social justice, development, financial security, women’s rights, health, entrepreneurship, popular culture, faith, parenting and relationships.”
It hopes to offer a unique platform to engage with other people in an atmosphere of mutual respect.
Click here to read Bisi’s response to Nigerian writer Olatunji Ololade’s article on African Feminists “Beasts Of No Gender, The Nation.”
Bisi Adeleye- Fayemi, a feminist activist, philanthropist, social entrepreneur and writer, is one of AWDF’s co-founders.
![](http://i0.wp.com/abovewhispers.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/BAF-e1455484191958.jpg?zoom=2&resize=90%2C83)
Women Lead The Charge In Post-Ebola Guinea
Women Lead The Charge In Post-Ebola Guinea
![Djakagbe Kaba, head of the women's organisation AGACFEM. Photo©Ruth Mcdowell Djakagbe Kaba, head of the women's organisation AGACFEM. Photo©Ruth Mcdowell](http://www.theafricareport.com/images/stories/djakagbe%20kabaruth%20mcdowell.jpg)
CONAKRY, Guinea – A women’s cooperative saw its work almost reduced to ashes after years of work as the Ebola outbreak ravaged the West African country of Guinea, but the women would have the last say.Djakagbe Kaba has spent decades working towards women empowerment. Despite the setbacks during the Ebola outbreak, she is determined to reposition women at the forefront of agricultural development and lead the way to better earning power.
The women cannot be independent if they do not have the means
It is Friday in Conakry and the streets are busy. Vendors are selling their wares as passers-by haggle over prices, afternoon prayers at the mosque have already begun.
Amidst the hustle and bustle, Djakagbe Kaba, head of the women’s organisation AGACFEM (Association Guineenne pour L’Allegement des Charges Feminines), opens the boutique where the organisation sells locally-made products produced by the women they work with.
The shop is modest but Kaba is confident. She has spent the last 30 years working with women’s groups before she co-founded the AGACFEM in 1995. With a focus on training and women’s economic and political empowerment, AGACFEM has supported thousands of women living in the country’s rural areas.
One of the organisation’s early projects was a women’s leadership programme after receiving funds from the Accra-based African Women’s Development Fund (AWDF). Kaba and her team organised trainings for women to participate in local governance. By the end of the project seven women were elected as members of the municipal council.
But AGACFEM did not stop there. The programme extended to illiterate women, who were taught how to read and write and the importance of voting.
In recent times AGACFEM has pooled together a co-operative of 45 women’s groups in the rural areas Kissidougou, Guéckédou and Kankan. The Coopérative des Femmes Rurales pour l’Agriculture, la Souveraineté Alimentaire et le Développement (COFRASAD) spent the last four years training women in 10 villages in organic agricultural production and value-added processing and are currently in the process of completing the finishing touches to two processing centres. But when the Ebola virus hit in 2014 everything changed.
Kaba and her colleagues were forced to re-strategise. AGACFEM received another grant from the AWDF, this time for the fight against Ebola. The organisation decided to team up with three other Guinean NGOs – Coalition des Organisations pour le Rayonnement de L’Economie Sociale Solidaire en Guinee (CORESS), Cooperative Badembere and Association des Jeunes Agriculteurs pour le Developpement Communautaire (AJADEG) – some of whom are members of COFRASAD working in the same region that also received grants from AWDF during the Ebola crisis to put their funds together to tackle the crisis head on.
Kaba decided to leave the capital, Conakry, and base herself in Kissidougou for three months to ensure all the programmes ran efficiently. While she headed the project planning and budget organising, roles were allocated to her partners to ensure that they maximised their efforts and networks as they reached to villages across the region.
![Fanta Konneh Condé, the secretary general of COFRASAD. Photo©Ruth McDowell Fanta Konneh Condé, the secretary general of COFRASAD. Photo©Ruth McDowell](http://www.theafricareport.com/images/stories/fantakonnehcond480ruthmcdowel.jpg)
“When it came to making orders for hand-washing kits, we placed one order together to keep costs down.” Kaba points out that it was important to her that each organisation used its strengths. “For example,” she says. “Badembere is an organisation that manufactures soap, so we thought let’s put the money we have each been allocated to buy soap into Badembere to strengthen their capacities.”Kaba bought and bargained every item needed for the hand-washing kits, even down to the stickers on the bucket, to make sure the group got the best for their buck. After overseeing the manufacturing process, the kits would then go out to the villages with the women volunteers who were spreading the message about Ebola.
Though Kaba and her colleagues were successful in their efforts in distributing hand-washing kits across communities, raising hygiene awareness and communicating with people, the work they had been doing in agricultural production took a hit. Nothing was produced for a whole year, setting the whole project back.
“We had to stop production,” says Fanta Konneh Condé, the secretary general of COFRASAD and one of Kaba’s colleagues, as she overlooks one of the gardens in just outside Kissidougou. “We missed the harvest season.”
Fast-forward to December 2015 and work has restarted. Condé and her colleague, Mariame Touré of Badembere take a stroll through the garden, stopping to talk to the women, as they remark at how far they all have come. With babies on their backs and farming tools in their hands, some of the women are – for the time being – cultivating carrots, lettuce and chives. Once again working to provide for their families. Under the initiative, they also produce rice, cereals and potatoes.
Back in Conakry at the boutique, Kaba is sure of the direction she wants the co-operative to go.
“We want to increase production,” she declares, as she gestures towards the pots of shea butter and black soap on the shelves. “We would like to export these products.”
COFRASAD is expanding rapidly having grown from a co-operative of four groups after its first year, to 45 groups today, four years later.
“The women cannot be independent if they do not have the means,” Kaba says. “It is better to support a group of women, rather than just one.”
Read the original article on Theafricareport.com : Women lead the charge in post-Ebola Guinea | West Africa
ACSHR 2016 Accra, Ghana: Pre Conference – Foundations of African Feminism
ACSHR 2016 Accra, Ghana: Pre Conference – Foundations of African Feminism
AWDF facilitated a women’s only pre-conference session for the 7th Africa Conference on Sexual Health and Rights which took place in Accra, Ghana, from 8-12 February, 2016.
![20160209_133450](http://africlub.net/awdf/wp-content/uploads/20160209_133450-450x338.jpg)
The meeting was jointly held with Curious Minds, Ghana, which acted as secretariat and conference host for this year’s gathering. AWDF wanted to provide a safe platform for an intimate and in-depth discussion of sexual and reproductive health and rights of adolescents and youth. Aimed primarily at 15 – 30-year old women, it ended up being a mixed age group of both genders, which ignited some fiery discussion. But at the end of the day everyone agreed it had been worthwhile.
“We wanted to provide a safe space for young women to discuss the issues relevant to them around issues of SRHR,” said AWDF’s donor liaison specialist Joan Koomson.
The pre-conference session also looked at helping young women develop common strategies and messages on engaging effectively with issues during the conference, influencing outcomes and how to derive the maximum benefit from being there.
A Position Statement (see below), worked on at the close of the day’s activities, was presented at the opening session of the main conference held Feb. 11. It summed up the major concerns and aspirations of the young women.
![20160209_160936](http://africlub.net/awdf/wp-content/uploads/20160209_160936-450x338.jpg)
Takeaway:
“Negotiating the space to have young women’s issues represented with government is a priority,” said Catherine Nyambura.
Kenyan Women Raise Awareness About HIV With Soccer and Cultural Extravaganza
Kenyan Women Raise Awareness About HIV With Soccer and Cultural Extravaganza
Youth, parents and even grandmothers came together for a day-long sports and culture fair in Nairobi’s Kibagare district hosted by Young Women Campaigning Against Aids (YWCAA), an NGO which focuses on HIV-AIDS prevention and advocacy.
The event, held January 27, was an opportunity for fun and games showcasing the group’s activities and handiwork, as well as an education day.
The day began with a gripping opening soccer match featuring grandmothers, guardians and parents of the girls, after which YWCAA’s team faced girls from other Nairobi teams, captivating all those present.
After winning teams were handed trophies, it was time for sensitization on drug abuse, Sexual Health and Reproductive Rights and HIV/AIDS. The active participation in the sessions showed clearly that the community both appreciated the information and wanted more.
“The event was a great success, with a higher turnout than we expected. The general public including the youth and adolescents were enthusiastic and actively participated during the question and answer sessions,” said Ms. Perez Abeka the group’s Executive Director.
Perez, who noted the personal growth of the girls within the organisation, commended several of them for their hard work, ambition and commitment to better themselves. It was the same commitment that propelled the formation of the organisation.
Working in bars helped shape the mindset of the early members of YWCAA who paid for their university education through part-time work as bar waitresses. This exposure opened their eyes to the socio-economic impact of HIV and the vulnerable nature of their work environment. Although the focus of the organisation was initially on bar waitresses, they’ve expanded their coverage to the youth, orphaned and vulnerable children and grandmothers.
The cultural extravaganza is the climax of a one-year project executed by YWCAA with funding from AWDF. The project seeks to use sports, culture and the creative arts as tools for prevention and advocacy on HIV/AIDS, and to serve as a means of empowerment for young women. The group’s participants benefit from an extensive mentorship program and training in various skills including dress making, bead work, beauty, hair dressing, drama and music.
YWCAA’s work continues to serve as an inspiration to the African Women’s Development Fund (AWDF) and the world at large.
World Health Organization Declares Ebola Outbreak Over In West Africa
World Health Organization Declares Ebola Outbreak Over In West Africa
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January 14, 2016 – Today, the World Health Organization (WHO), declared the end of the most recent outbreak of Ebola virus disease in Liberia and says all known chains of transmission have been stopped in West Africa.
It’s a day to celebrate, yet the consequences of this outbreak – the worst the world has ever known, are devastating: over 11,000 deaths out of 28,000 infections in Liberia, Sierra Leone and Guinea, the three worst affected countries, and economies and lives shattered.
Liberia was first declared free of Ebola transmission in May 2015, but the virus was re-introduced twice since then, with the latest flare-up in November. The last confirmed patient in Liberia has tested negative for the disease following two consecutive 21 day incubation cycles of the disease.
“More flare-ups are expected and that strong surveillance and response systems will be critical in the months to come,” WHO said in a statement.
For us at AWDF who have been deeply involved with assisting women’s groups from the start of the epidemic, the welfare of women must continue to be a priority for local, government and regional leaders. The critical support which will be needed to get families back on their feet, children in school and health systems running, must not be denied.
![conakry lr-1220](http://africlub.net/awdf/wp-content/uploads/conakry-lr-1220-450x300.jpg)
“We need support for the women affected by Ebola and those involved in the fight,” says Djakagbe Kaba, who heads the Association Guineenne pour L’Allegement des Charges (AGACFEM), an AWDF grantee which was instrumental in coordinating Ebola prevention and education efforts in Kissidougou, one of the worst affected areas.
![Djakagbe Kaba, head of Association Guineenne pour L'Allegement des Charges (AGACFEM)](http://africlub.net/awdf/wp-content/uploads/conakry-lr-1420-450x300.jpg)
“After Ebola I hope we can help women resume their work in soap-making and agricultural production. Though the epidemic has passed, we must still be observant and remind people to always wash their hands. Preventive measures must continue,” Kaba said.
![conakry lr-1229](http://africlub.net/awdf/wp-content/uploads/conakry-lr-1229-450x300.jpg)
All our efforts will be needed in the months to come to ensure that the necessary prevention, surveillance and response capacity across all three countries are put in place and that more women are ready to shoulder responsibility in these efforts. Please make a donation now.
Silent Scream (A Tribute to Abused Women)
Silent Scream (A Tribute to Abused Women)
By Aisha Ali
(A Tribute to Abused Women)
Sunshine, Sunshine, Shining Through
Lighting up, the sky so blue
Sunshine, Sunshine, is it true
The tears you cry are red in hue?
Smiling, Smiling, a cheery face
Shining through from a secret place
Hidden from view, beneath the surface
A twisted, painful ugly furnace
Crying, Crying, silent tears
The soundless scream that no one hears
Broken, Tattered, a heart that fears,
Shadows jeering, mocking her cries
Mirror, Mirror, reflect the truth
From within our souls’ depth
Let us see the rot and filth
And break this destructive myth
Aisha is a writer and currently employed as a copywriter in Advertising. She is also enrolled at the University of Nairobi studying for a degree in Journalism and Media Studies. She has a strong interest in using social media as a platform to highlight, talk about and champion women’s rights issues. She believes that it’s a space for women who would otherwise be silenced, to voice their issues and build communities with each other. She uses twitter extensively, under the handle, @bintiM, to spark conversations on various issues facing Kenyan women. Aisha was a participant in AWDF’s 2015 Writing for Social Change Workshop in Kampala, Uganda.
Beneath Her Veil
Beneath Her Veil
Beneath Her Veil
Beneath her veil lay eyes filled with fear
Of man and his ways, of evil bred within good
Of what lay ahead of her, what fate had dealt her
A world that turned against her, blamed her, maimed her
Condemned to a death so bloody, an end so violent
A memory tainted by unjustified justifications
Innocent? Guilty? A victim of societal condemnation
Actions based on so-called religious obligation
Her body, tears, blood, their means to purification
To their honour, a restoration
Of her being, a termination, elimination
Perhaps she was born into the wrong nation
Beneath her veil lay eyes filled with questions
They leave their homes, closing their doors to their own sins
Their robes kissing the earth, their voices rising in mock anger
Stony looks matching the hearts in their chests, the rocks in their hands
Personifications of the ironies of this world
Dishonourable soldiers of God’s army, fighting for honour
Casting stones with hands tainted by their own misdeeds
Egos inflated with the thoughts of doing right by God’s law
Judges of the ‘adulteress’, defenders of their own adultery
Drowning out the voice of reason, her pleas, her desperate calls for mercy
Chanting loudly from the holy books, words they refuse to honour
Teachings they refuse to follow, commandments they refuse to submit to
Picking what favours them and discarding all else that follows
She questions the sincerity of man in his quest to please our Lord.
Beneath her veil lay eyes filled with indifference
To everything happening around her, deep within her being
Her effort to numb out the pain as the first rock strikes
Thrown from hands that had once held her close and professed love
From fingers that had interlaced with hers on those moon-lit nights
Stones cast by her friends, neighbours, her family
Blind to the innocence in her eyes, the purity in her heart
An outcast within her caste, disowned by her own
Her ‘partner’ set free, supposedly innocent of the act
Defying all logic… takes two to commit yet one was enough to submit
To the will of man, the unjust cause of the Homo sapiens
Beneath her veil lay eyes filled with pity
‘Forgive them Father, for they know not what they are doing’
Stoning down an innocent soul, ending a life they did not create
With every drop of her blood, their shouts of victory grew louder
All compassion lost, all empathy thrown away
Sucking out her life, reaffirming their holiness
Fighting and winning a battle that belonged to God
Ignorant of the facts, the sad reality of their existence
That with every rock cast, every jab felt and every breath lost
An immaculate being was abused, the earth defiled.
Beneath her veil lay eyes absent a soul
She slumped, her body a mass of bruises and scars
She met her death standing, buried to her waist
Her last breath in the whites she had put on herself
Whites of her baptism and wedding turned to a bloodied shroud
No ritual bath, no prayer, not a chance to be mourned
Cheated of her life, denied a chance at justice, a sacrifice
For men who sought reassurance in the sins of others
Yet their honor shall never be worth a drop of her innocent blood
And their sins shall forever remain theirs to bear.
By Jama Jack
November 2013
Feature image: FreeImages.com/Janet Burgess
Jama Jack is University Communications Officer at the University of The Gambia. She has written articles for Lend a Hand Society’s magazines: Extinguish It and Rhythm of The Young, the Daily Observer Newspaper in The Gambia as well as Balafong Magazine. She runs a personal blog, Linguere, which she uses to raise awareness on and promote the various causes she supports, especially issues relating to women and girls. Jama, who was also a participant in AWDF’s 2015 Writing for Social Change Workshop, sees literature as a powerful and tool to transform our society.
The Intrigue
The Intrigue
The Intrigue
By Hilda Twongyeirwe
This is a true story of Yemo (Not true name due to sensitivity of details in the story from Ethiopia) from Ethiopia. It was first published by FEMRITE – Uganda Women Writers Association in Beyond the Dance in 2010 and republished by Un-cut Voices Press, Germany, in Taboo in 2015.
“Most husbands sodomise their circumcised wives because the wives cannot handle the normal sexual intercourse. That has become the norm for most of the circumcised women. But no one can talk about it. Each wife is silent. Silent so as not to shame her husband, silent so as not to shame her society, silent so as not to shame herself. It is heart-breaking. Every married woman knows that bedroom matters are very personal and very private. As I talk to you now, I feel as if I am making a confession in front of a Catholic priest. I feel as if I am undressing right in front of you. But it is ok. I want to tell you my story.”
I encourage Yemo to speak. I tell her that together we have to break the silence. I tell her that it is not right that social norms continue to silence women in matters that affect them so seriously.
“I agree with you,” she responds. “But these are things I have never talked about to anyone before, not even my fellow circumcised women. We are all silent. When I tried to talk to my mother, she just told me to be patient; she did not give me her ear. I had hoped that maybe she would share with me her own experiences. But she did not. She did not treat it as a matter of any importance. ‘Just be patient’ she said to me and changed the subject. She sounded as if we were not supposed to talk about it. I pressed on but she just did not talk.
“After that attempt, I decided I would live with it silently and that is what I have done for the ten years of my marriage. Silence. I have kept quiet and pretended that all is well. Tell me, what else can I do?”
I do not respond to Yemo because I am not sure what else she should have done. It is difficult to respond to issues about which one does not have first-hand experience. Sometimes we hurt people when we tell them what they know better. So I keep quiet and just listen.
Yemo and I are seated in her hotel room in Cape Town where we both meet on different missions. She is here on a social scientist’s trip and I am on a publisher’s trip. Her friend from Ethiopia, whom I had met before, had introduced Yemo to me and as we chatted I told Yemo of a project we were doing, to record voices of women on female genital mutilation. ‘I could add my voice,’ she had said matter-of-factly. ‘Sure,’ I had responded but I was not sure because the project was almost coming to the end. Indeed, Yemo’s story was full-term and needed to be born.
“I have three young sisters. I am the first born in our family. Fortunately they are all not circumcised. As I looked at them growing up, I was very inquisitive, especially when we would be in the bathroom or in our bedroom dressing up. That is when I realised that they were not like me. Sometimes my mother would ask me to help her bathe them and I would jump at the opportunity to discover them in order to discover myself. But when I discovered what I discovered, I fell silent. I did not ask anyone to explain, much as I felt a strong urge to ask. Later I started hearing about circumcision and I got to know that I was circumcised. Slowly I started becoming a very withdrawn child.
“My early childhood was not exciting at all. As we were growing up, there was a very distinct difference between my sisters and me. While I was very reserved, they were very free-spirited. As a result, my mother started mentioning my circumcision as if to confirm what I already knew. She would shout at my sisters and insult them that they were stubborn and not well behaved because they had not been circumcised. On the other hand, she always commended me for my calm behaviour.
“According to my mother, and maybe according to custom, I was sensible, and well behaved because I was circumcised. Of course she is right because for the bigger part, my lack of spirit, my silence, was a result of my recognition that I was different, the recognition that something was wrong with my womanhood. I don’t hate my mother and I know that I am my mother’s favourite daughter but I feel sad that she looked on as a knife changed my life. I fail to understand how a mother gives birth to a normal child and then offers the child to be disabled. To tell you the truth, I have a great sadness that sits deep in my heart. I have an anger that makes me calmer than my sisters. An anger that makes me resigned. An anger at what took away what I should have been.”
I tell Yemo that she should not be resigned. That life is about fighting to the end. I want to get up and hug her and reassure her but I feel the wall that she has built around herself and I respect the distance between us. I instead hold my hands tightly to support my drooping chin as I listen to her small but strong voice. The red-wine-coloured blouse that she wears hugs her waist tightly, exposing her fine figure. She is a very beautiful woman.
“What reason do I have not to be resigned?”
Yemo almost raises her voice. She stands up, walks to the electric kettle and fixes me a cup of Five Rose’s tea. She also serves me tasty biscuits from a little tin sitting on her table.
“I have every reason to be resigned. I will tell you that since I got married ten years ago, I have never enjoyed sex. To-date, I still bleed every time my husband and I meet. No matter how many times we have done it, no matter what we do, it never ceases to hurt. Tell me the truth my sister, what brings a husband and wife together? You and I know that all other reasons that we always give are an apology for the real reason. So, tell me, why shouldn’t I be resigned?
“I was circumcised when I was six months old. And my mother tells me that I was a baby of slight build.
“My great-grandfather was a medicine man. He was very influential and was believed to be very knowledgeable about almost every cultural and medicinal issue. That is what I was told about him. Thank God that I never met him in my adult life because by the time I grew up, he was long dead.
“I was his first great-granddaughter that came among several great grandsons. When I came, the family celebrated my arrival. My great-grandfather was especially happy. As a special child, therefore, I had to get special and preferential treatment. I was the lucky child and so I had to be circumcised by the renowned, knowledgeable medicine man. I was cut by my great-grandfather.
“What I have always asked myself is how he found and cut the little parts. I look at my little daughter today and the parts are too small and slippery. How that man gripped and cut me at six months of age is not comprehensible.
“My only joy comes from the fact that FGM is now a crime in Ethiopia. But of course it still goes on behind curtains. The target is small girls and babies, who, they know, will not talk or report. But at least criminalising it makes it easier for those who are fighting it. But there is need to sensitise women so that they can fight for their daughters without waiting for things to go wrong like it was for my mother and I.
“After my great-grandfather cut me, he went back to his home. He was from my mother’s lineage. My father, I understand, was not aware of my circumcision. My mother had hoped that she would nurse me quietly and I would get healed without involving my father. Unfortunately for me and my mother, my wound festered. My mother gave me antibiotics and the great medicine man also sent the best of his collection but the infection dug deeper and wider. My mother has told me several times how she almost lost me to the infection; a tiny baby with massive, massive wounds. How, during countless moments, she sat and held me in her hands and cried over my tiny and formless body. How she saw me slip through her fingers and regretted the act of circumcision. What am I supposed to do? Sympathise with her?
“After several weeks of trauma, she took me to hospital where we spent several more weeks. The most incredible thing is that my mother’s relatives said that I got the infection because I was visited by an evil spirit. The baby was blamed. They said that I had a bad omen that attracted the evil spirit. It was disgusting as I listened to my mother explaining to me about the evil spirit. She too believed it. She still believes it. As if my pain was not enough, my father also denied me. He said that I was not his daughter since my mother and her people were doing whatever they wanted without his involvement. My mother suffered so much with me. When I finally recovered, she swore that if she got more daughters, she would never have any of them circumcised. Interestingly, my father has never accepted me to-date. ‘You were the sacrificial lamb,’ my mother always tells me.
“When I got married at the age of 21, I did not have the slightest idea of what lay on my bridal bed. I had kept myself pure and had never had any sexual intercourse. When my boyfriend proposed to me, I was very excited and I wanted to be his wife because I liked him a lot and we had been friends for some time. Shortly after that, he proposed that we inform our parents and seek their blessings so that they could help us to organise our wedding. We, especially him, did not want to have sexual intercourse before we were officially wedded, officially husband and wife. And so by the time we were wedded, we wanted each other so much. I had looked forward to our wedding night. I had waited for him just as he had waited for me.
“It was funny when on our wedding night, we remembered that we were not supposed to share a bed. So we slept in different rooms. Our religion prohibits sex after wedding for at least seventy-two hours! That was too long but we waited patiently. After the seventy-two hours, although I don’t remember whether we quite spent all the seventy-two hours, we sought each other. I had not at all thought that it was going to be tough, but as we locked and rocked round and round without success, I sensed danger. It was as if the task was to pull down the moon with our bare hands. By morning I was tired, he was tired and we had not reached anywhere. Our hearts were sore, our eyes were sore, our bodies were sore. We were consumed by a fire of desire and pain. The second night came and went just like the first one.
“In the middle of the third night, I offered to divorce and free the man I loved most. But you see, my wedding was very dramatic, which did not offer me many options. When my husband and I agreed to get married, none of our relatives supported us. They thought we were too young for marriage. He was 21 years old and I was just going to make 21. But we felt ready. He was already out of school and working and I was about to complete university. I was in my final year. We were in love and we knew that we wanted to be husband and wife. When our parents refused, we did not argue with them. We had already made up our minds. His parents did not want to see me near their son and my parents did not want him anywhere near their daughter.
“After one year, my boyfriend and I went ahead and secretly organised our wedding. We went to a monastery several kilometres away from home and we stayed with monks for two days praying and getting to know each other more. We also used that time to organise with a church near the monastery, to conduct our wedding. On the third day, we went with our rings and we were wedded. We stayed at the monastery still, in two different rooms, to fulfil the seventy-two-hour ritual. When it was all over, we proceeded to his home where my real womanhood journey was yet to start.
“The major reason I offered to divorce him was not because we had failed to consummate our marriage but because he insulted me. As he hit against the rock in the middle of the third night, he looked at me with daggers in his eyes and he told me that I was a virgin not because I was a good girl but because other men had failed to penetrate me just like he had failed. He was so angry for failing to consummate our marriage. I was so angry with pain of his continuous rubbing and pressing, trying to force entry.
“I was so angry that after many years of purity on my part, the reward from my dear husband was to taunt me. That is when I offered to divorce. I got up, picked a jacket, stepped into my shoes and staggered out of his house into the darkness outside. It was not easy leaving my marriage behind but the physical pain I was suffering propelled me out of the house. See, this is how I walked home!”
Yemo gets up and walks the way she did the night her husband mocked her. She walks with bent knees and one leg cast here and another leg cast there. I stare at her, my chin cupped in my left palm. I literally feel her pain spread through my own body.
“I was in a sorry state, walking like a duck, careful not to open myself wide and cause further damage and careful not to rub against myself and cause more pain. One part of me told me to slump back on the bed and stay, but the other part was determined to leave him. Fortunately our homes are less than one kilometre apart.
“When I got home, my mother was not amused to see me – for two reasons. One, I had eloped against her wishes and so I had no right to leave the marriage I had gone into with eyes wide open. Two, she thought that I had started my marriage with a fighting spirit. She suspected that I was leaving because maybe I had discovered another girl in my husband’s life. But that was very unfair. I really needed someone to talk to and finding my mother at home had been such a relief because I knew that as a woman she would understand. You can imagine the disappointment when she bashed me instead!
“My mother did not even notice that I could hardly walk. But perhaps I shouldn’t blame her because even I, in the hurry to leave, I did not notice that I had put on a different type of shoe on each foot. One was brown and flat while the other was black and low-heeled. I noticed this later as I sat down to talk to my mother. But still I would have cared less even if I had noticed before. All I wanted was to get away from my husband’s house.
“As I talked to my mother, I was shocked by her response. ‘You are not the first woman to be circumcised,’ she said to me. ‘Maybe you are a chincha,’ she taunted further.”
The word ‘chincha’ sounds terrible on Yemo’s tongue. It is said with anger and hatred and that forces me to ask her to explain to me what it means.
“In my language, a chincha refers to a woman who is naturally frigid and runs away from men. Chinchas normally never get married because they cannot bear the touch of men. But how could my mother call me a chincha when she was fully aware of the role of the knife?”
As Yemo explained, I felt a surge of anger at the women who do not protect women. I remembered a workshop I attended in 2003 that was held by Akina Mama Wa Africa, where one woman activist, Bisi Adeleye, stated that we all need to feel the pain of other women in order to do something about their situations. My anger spreads from mothers who take their daughters for circumcision, to woman circumcisers and to the mothers-in-law, who taunt their daughters-in-law and force them into circumcision as if to avenge their own circumcision.
“When she called me chincha, the tears I had held all along the way as I came home tumbled out of my eyes. When my mother saw the pain she had inflicted on my feelings she started counselling me. She told me that I should be patient and that with time it would be okay. I did not tell my mother that it was not me but my husband that required being patient. I was determined not to go back because I did not see how anything was going to be okay.
“The following day, I was in bed when my sister came to call me and said that I had a visitor. I told her to tell whoever it was to come inside the house. When she insisted that the person was in a hurry and could not come in, I guessed it was my husband. You see, in our customs, a husband is not supposed to enter his in-laws’ house during such a time. I did not feel ready to see him and so I refused to come out. He was determined to see me and so he stayed at the gate and sent for me many more times, each time begging for my understanding. In the end, I went and met him.
“When we talked, he apologised for his insults and said that he had said what he had said out of frustration. He begged and promised that he would be very patient with me and that together we would agree on what to do. He told me that if I agreed to go back, everything would be on my terms. I did not believe him but you will be surprised because I agreed to go back. I felt sympathetic and, also, I decided I would give it one more try. But I knew what awaited me. Whatever plan we would hatch, whatever strategy, we would have to be husband and wife.
“One day after his visit, I went back to his home. You see, being with my mother at home did not make things any easier for me. When I got there, I found my husband drinking arkie. There was a lot of it in our room. Arkie is a local brew in Ethiopia. I think his friends brought it to him to console him after I had left. From the look of things, my husband had been drinking heavily perhaps since I left.
“When I got back, he offered me arkie too. I received it and gulped it down as if I did not taste its bitterness. He was a little surprised when I asked for more. I drank more and more and he too drank with me. When I got drunk, I allowed him to touch me. He too was drunk. The more we got drunk, the more we loosened up and eventually I became too drunk to stop him. But when he tore into me, I felt my whole being ripping open! Unfortunately I was too drunk to struggle and he was drunk enough not to care about my screams that tore into the night silence. I am sure that his mother and his other family members heard me scream but they did not come to my rescue.
“He raped me and I bled profusely and I think I must have passed out for hours.”
As Yemo describes the rape, my body recoils as if I am the one being raped. My teeth grit and I curse under my tongue. God forbid.
“For over ten days, I could not give in to his sexual advances again. I was even too careful not to drink any more arkie. When I agreed to drink it the first time I was doing it for courage to be a wife to my husband. But now I had to be fully conscious. My husband begged and pleaded but I could not agree, he even told me that if I did not give in soon enough, I would close again and be even tighter. I cared, yes, but on the other hand, I did not care.
“Later, his pleas melted me and I gave in again. I had hoped that there would be less pain but that was just wishful thinking because it was still very painful. With time, it became a different pain. It shifted from the pain of tearing flesh to the pain of forcing entry into a very narrow opening, the pain of heavy pressure. To-date, it still hurts. To-date, I still literally fight with my husband before I give in to his sexual demands. I understand that there are some women who ask their husbands for sex but that is unheard-of in my life. On many occasions I cause differences so that my husband and I are not on speaking terms. When we are in such a situation, he stays away from me and that is my joy. However, he later discovered my trick and so now he refuses to stay away.
“These days I use a special Vaseline to soften me up. But every time we do it, there will always be blood, with or without Vaseline with or without force. But God has his own miracles. In all this mess, two children still found their way into us. In both cases, I delivered normally. I have no idea what happened after that because when I healed, I went back to my size, the size of fights over my marital obligations. I had somehow hoped that normal delivery would do something for me. But I guess it is also about feelings. The knife takes all the feelings away.
“After my second child, I was fed up with the marriage institution and I wanted out. I was sure that I wanted a divorce this time.”
“But you are not a divorcee, or are you?” I ask Yemo, looking at the fancy wedding band round her finger.
“No, I am not divorced, my sister. You see, my husband and I love each other very much. It is so difficult for me to have sex with him but I still love him. It’s a dilemma the two of us were thrown into by the circumcision ritual that turned me into rock. When I told him of my intentions to divorce, he begged and pleaded and I ended up staying again. And I have decided to stay. But I will tell you the truth, my sister, I cry during every single sexual encounter with my husband. But of course it is only the four walls of our bedroom that know what goes on in there. Outside, we are a very happily married couple, handsome husband, cheerful wife and two gorgeous children. But every single day I ask God why he does not perform a miracle to return my senses to me and take away the rock that I am. But I know it will never happen. But God can do it, can’t he?”
Yemo looks at me expectantly. I have read in the Bible that Jesus performed miracles but I do not tell her that. I feel her dilemma in the contradictions of her statements. Her confusion cuts deep in my psyche. I feel the mesh of intrigue get tighter round her neck. I want to tell Yemo that something can be done but I am not sure what can be done. Instead, we stretch our arms and embrace. I feel part of her and part of her dilemma. And yes, something has to be done. A lot must be done.
World AIDS Day Grantee Spotlight: Canadian Museum for Human Rights Interview with Kidist Belete
World AIDS Day Grantee Spotlight: Canadian Museum for Human Rights Interview with Kidist Belete
Read the original interview published on the Canadian Museum for Human Rights blog
Kidist Belete is the founder of Developing Families Together (DFT), an Ethiopian grassroots organization that works in women’s empowerment, orphan protection, HIV & AIDS prevention and care, and community development . She has contributed a lot to empowering women economically and socially in Ethiopia and is dedicated to working to improve the lives of women and children in underprivileged communities. DFT is a grantee partner of the African Women’s Development Fund.
Kidist will be participating in The Stephen Lewis Foundation’s Ask Her Talks.
What can be done to turn the tide against HIV/AIDS? HIV is the world’s leading infectious killer; it is estimated by UNAIDS that in sub-Saharan Africa alone, some 24.7 million people were living with HIV in 2013. This disease not only affects the health of individuals – it damages families and communities, preventing social development and economic growth. HIV/AIDS threatens people’s most basic human rights.
If we are to understand how to combat this global epidemic, we need the knowledge of those who are on the frontlines in this crisis. This is why the Museum features an exhibit about the Canadian and African Grandmothers who are working to combat this disease. It is also why the Stephen Lewis Foundation has organized the Ask Her Talks. The talks are a unique opportunity to hear a group of African women experts speak about their work combatting HIV/AIDS. I recently had the chance to ask Kidist Belete about HIV/AIDS, human rights and why we need to listen to the voices of African women who are on the ground fighting this disease.
Tell us a little bit about yourself and why you are speaking in the Ask Her Talks?
My name is Kidist Belete. I live in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. About 12 years ago, I worked as a gender officer in an organization that coordinates the charitable and development-related work of the Orthodox Church of Ethiopia. It was there I developed increasing sensitivity to the distinctive nature of the adversities faced by women in the poorest and most marginalized social settings. That is the sensitivity that I took with me into the fight against HIV/AIDS. I came into that fight when the social dislocations caused by HIV/AIDS began to appear in my neighborhood. I was, in a way, drafted by the community into the fight. I have not left the battlefield since.
I am speaking at this forum because my experience and the experience of my small organization puts a face on the fight against HIV/AIDS. I believe the real-life experiences that I talk about give a human touch to our collective efforts against this monster of a problem. I think that human touch sends a message that can’t be conveyed in conventional ways such as proposals, reports, and statistical compilations of progress.
What makes the Ask Her Talks different from other talks focused on AIDS?
The difference is that it brings to the forefront women who are leading the fight against the pandemic. These can be women who are themselves HIV positive or who had to take responsibility for those who have been orphaned by HIV/AIDS. They can be women, like myself, who are working as founders and directors of grassroots organizations that mobilize and deploy resources that are needed for the fight. It can also be women who speak out on behalf of those who have been hit hard by HIV/AIDS but do not attract sufficient attention. These women also all live and work at the crucial juncture where HIV/AIDs and gender-based inequalities come together. We are not only women, but we also work with women. For these reasons I think our perspectives differ from others such as health or public policy professionals who predominate in other talks focused on HIV/AIDS.
What makes AIDS in Africa a human rights issue?
It is quintessentially a human rights issue due to the extensive morbidity and mortality that it causes. HIV/AIDS deprives people of their right to a healthy life and decimates their ability to provide resources that sustain life such as food, water and proper shelter. Health, food, water and shelter are basic human rights.
It is also a human rights issue because HIV/AIDS destroys families, leaves children and the elderly without caregivers, and unravels communities and social networks that sustain normal life in Africa. I believe the right to live as part of a social collectivity to which one belongs and contributes is a human right.
What can people do if they want to help with this important issue?
I think people can help by directly supporting those of us in the frontlines or by mobilizing support for us. They can do this individually or in groups, either directly by identifying which point of intervention accords with their sensibilities and the nature of the support that they can afford to give or, even better, by contributing to the resource pool of organizations such as the Stephen Lewis Foundation that have been in the fight against HIV/AIDS through some of the most innovative, carefully selected and well-informed avenues of intervention.
It is important to look beyond HIV/AIDS as a public health emergency, which it was a few years ago (and continues to be in many places even today). It is important also to remember that HIV/AIDS was and is a socioeconomic disaster of the highest magnitude. It has left children without parents and the elderly without any means of sustenance. We must keep in mind that we still have to protect vulnerable groups against infection and fight stigma attached to the infection. We must remember the fight is not over yet.
The Ask Her Talks take place in several cities, including Winnipeg on Wednesday, November 25, 2015 and Toronto on Tuesday December 1, 2015. More information is available at www.askhertalks.com.
Walls
Walls
Walls (published on Brittle Paper in 2014)
By Jen Thorpe
It was
The force of the wall
That propelled her face forward
And back into the foot
That kicked it.
The kicker danced
The dance of a victorious soldier.
For he was a warrior in a long standing campaign
Of dominance
And hate.
Behind the wall,
And hidden from view,
A young girl played on her swing set
Took selfies with her Ipad
Unaware of the violence beyond.
Her mother
Was not abused
Just disabused of the notion
That one day she would come home
To find dinner on the table.
Along the street
A more hopeful woman walked
Witnessed the scene
And called the police
To restore order.
The police arrived
With lights unflashing
This was not a crisis
This was the order
In the Mother City
Note from the author: I wrote this piece in response to witnessing intimate partner violence in the road outside of my house. It was interesting to me that because both the perpetrator and the victim were homeless and drunk at the time of the incident, the police disregarded protocol. They tried to get them to both sit in the same vehicle and didn’t want to assist her with opening a case because ‘she’d just go back to him’. I realised that those victims of domestic violence who are already marginalised by social class and economic conditions are further marginalised by the state in their response to these crimes. I think it reflects a more general disbelief in women who report violence against them by their intimate partners, and that this is something we need to dispel. It also reflects on the ability of so many people to be completely blind to the conditions of others, because they are safely behind their own walls.
![Jen.Thorpe](http://www.africlub.net/awdf/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/Jen.Thorpe.jpg)