Why all this 'boku gramma’ (beaucoup grammar – highfalutin language)?

There we were in the middle of war scarred Freetown, Sierra Leone discussing women’s rights and HIV & AIDS in West Africa. The meeting convened by ActionAid International (AAI) and The African Women’s Development Fund (AWDF), brought together women living with HIV & AIDS and other activists from 7 countries in West Africa (Liberia, Nigeria, Senegal, Cameroun, Sierra Leone, The Gambia and Ghana). These women work in their communities to provide support to women living with HIV & AIDS and to raise awareness of the virus. The majority of them work in local communities, far beyond most capital cities. Many were attending such a meeting for the first time. We had great fun with translation from Creole to English.

At the outset, we the convenors were nervous. At what level do we pitch the dialogue? Should we talk about this? How will they take it? How do we keep the participants safe from prying eyes in the media, the hotel and others – we were worried about confidentiality. We know that HIV & AIDS is highly stigmatised in many West African countries, more so if it is women who are infected. Freetown is also one of these small cities in which news travels at twice the speed of light, and of course a place in which everyone knows someone who knows someone who knows you – or at least that’s how it feels. How would we protect our participants particularly those from Sierra Leone from this unwanted intrusion into their privacy, whilst at the same time showcase the significance of their work? We were informed that such a meeting is a rare occurrence in Freetown and it would therefore generate much interest (both positive and negative). A long discussion took place on the eve of the workshop. We agreed on the usual confidentiality good practice measures: seek participants’ permission for photographs, quotes etc. In addition, a media ‘policing’ plan was carefully outlined and off we went to set it in motion.

Well, we needn’t have agonised quite so much. The women were adamant. They all without exception declared that they were ready to tell their story. If we are to change attitudes, we have to set examples. We have to be open. In fact, some asked for the opportunity to share with the press their personal stories. I was humbled and deeply moved. In face of all the hostility and fear, these women (many of them young), chose to speak out and to accept the consequences of this decision.

Throughout the meeting, the women shared their experiences, pain and triumphs with such generosity of spirit. I heard stories of rape and other forms of sexual abuse and degradation, domestic violence, of abandonment, and of mental abuse. I heard tears of anguish, sorrow and pain that comes from a deep sense of loss and bereavement. I saw women overburdened with the responsibilities of care for their families and communities. I saw women, tired, weary, seeking refuge.

And from these same women, I saw determination to live their lives with dignity - hence their insistence on sharing their stories and disclosing their HIV status – come what may. I witnessed the strongly held faith, rooted firmly in the knowledge that change will come, and that it is they who will make it happen. I saw them draw on the deep reserves of their power within; the inner strength that echoed wherever they went – There is no stopping us now – we are here and we are here to stay, their every move seemed to say. I saw them reach out to one another to give comfort, support; a shoulder to lean on – the sisterhood that cushions the blows of disappointment and adversity. I witnessed their deep sense of fun and mischief - they had some of the most scurrilous jokes and anecdotes! I marvelled at their willingness to listen, to live, let live and let be. These women, who have been stigmatised and ostracised; denied space and voice, wanted nothing other than to accept difference. Some were deeply religious, indeed were leaders in their respective religious institutions. But all readily embraced the notion that, every woman has a right to live, love and be as she chooses.

Feminists, we asked, Who here is a feminist? We all are! They shot back. Why all this ‘boku gramma’ (beaucoup grammar – highfalutin language)? If you are working to support women, you are a feminist. What’s the fuss? They wanted to know. Those who didn’t asked for an explanation and then said, This is ‘boku gramma’. This is what we do and who we are - feminists.

And their enthusiasm was infectious. The hotel staff also engaged. At first on the defensive: There is no such thing as HIV & AIDS in Sierra Leone; It is all a plot to stop us having more children! In our religion it is ‘Haram’(forbidden) to use a condom! How do you enjoy yourself, all wrapped up? All the standard responses of dismissal and denial. But with the patient, gentle but firm explanations from the participants, this changed. There was genuine interest and keenness to find out. Can you talk to my wife? I think my wife and I should go for family planning; You are right, we should be careful – this can happen to anyone. There was genuine admiration and respect for these women for daring to speak out. In the end the hotel staff were sorry to see them leave.

I will never forget these amazing women. They have given me so much. Sometimes one gets lost in the paper work (deeply soul destroying, but necessary) of what one does. And one wonders, What it is this all about? Aside from the late nights, aching fingers from repetitive stress with all the endless typing, weary minds and the endless backlog of paper work – real and virtual, which no matter how hard one tries, one never quite manages to catch up. Aside from this, one often wonders, Really what is it I am doing? The reminder came in the form of these really powerful sisters.

And for me, some other lessons and truths:

Often, in putting together programmes of this nature, we get locked into the business of thinking for our constituencies. And we do this in the name of protection – their personal safety, respect for their cultures, circumstance and so on - all very noble and necessary considerations. But there is an extremely thin line between protection and gate keeping. We cross that line when we think for, rather than think about our constituencies. When we too readily assert for example, statements like, We can’t discuss this, rural women cannot understand/will not accept this; This is not relevant to the lives of rural women; Young women don’t need to know this; These are deeply religious women, they will not understand this; and so on, we filter and censure information.

I wonder though, whose discomfort we are addressing. Is it our own? Do we conveniently hide behind our constituencies to mask our own fears and prejudices – we especially love to use rural women in this way. More often than not in my experience, the so called rural women have needed very little explanation of the issues many of us in the ‘women’s rights movement’ consider controversial. What is the fuss? Has often been the response, leaving us all dressed for a battle that does not materialise. The sisters in Free Town rejuvenated us with their readiness to accept and to dialogue. They asserted their right to do what they felt was right for them – and thank goodness, we too were open to listening.

We can’t bring change if we don’t cause a fuss; if we don’t ruffle some feathers. And make some people mad as hell. Of course it always best to bring them along with us as allies and what have you. So we must always work towards that end. But if it means giving up the essence of what we stand for, then it is perhaps best to act anyway?

So, sisters, we have to speak up and speak out. The results more often than not are oohhh so rewarding.

My thanks to all my sisters in Freetown for reminding me.

Sarah Mukasa
Director of Programmes
AWDF