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August 20, 2008 11:02 AM by Fatima Hassan | COMMENTS
This afternoon we visited the Rwandan Genocide Museum in Kigali. I have struggled to understand the point of constructing museums in honor of massive extermination campaigns. However, the most important aspect of my two hours in the Genocide Museum was witnessing the busloads of Rwandan high-school and university students visiting the museum. Often in low income countries, museums and other historic parks are tourist and foreign visitor hotspots but today I was surprised to witness Rwandans of all generations solemnly walking through the memorial.
Walking through the carefully arranged memorial with the machetes and victim's skulls and clothes from mass graves was incredibly difficult to process. On one hand, it's crucial for today's Rwandans to confront the events of 1994 and previous with honesty and respect. But on the other hand, it was extremely uncomfortable to see the products of violence that was completely and conveniently ignored by the rest of the world. Furthermore, some nations were actively training and financing the architects of the genocide and the militia that killed up to one million people. One million people- what does that even mean? On the way out of the museum, one quote let me register what I had just seen. " The interhamwe ( militia responsible for the slaughter of the Tutsi minority) did not kill a million Tutsis, they killed one another, then another, then another"...
I believe I've mentioned in previous blogs that I come from a big family- 8 immediate siblings and a huge extended family. Virtually no Tutsi family was left without many family members dead or tortured, living as rape victims or the guilt of surviving. About 25,000 Rwandans are buried at the genocide museum and when I read the names of those buried, I was horrified to realize that every victim was part of a group of 10-12 family. As I walked away, I was disoriented and remembered the hundreds of wedding pictures, vacation snapshots and birthday celebration pictures of the victims featured inside the memorial. Most Americans can look in their family albums and relate because these are universal moments of joy. In each face, I could see my family's faces.
Around the corner from the memorial is the hotel that is featured in Hotel Rwanda, Hotel Des Mille Collines French for "Hotel of the 1000 Hills." For many of us, this blockbuster film was our first engagement with the genocide. As we drove past it, I kept transplanting myself to this scene 14 years earlier and could imagine the roadblocks and the killer mobs. When violent crimes or deaths occur in our homes, we tend to move out because we are not able to live in the same house. Nearly every home in Rwanda was affected by violence- 99% of Rwandans witnessed violence or murder. They don't have the choice to leave because there is nowhere to run to...
Many of us on the delegation felt guilt and anger about how America did not intervene to stop the killing. Even though it is far too late to take anything 'back', we can help Rwanda recover by supporting UNFPA's efforts to provides counseling, support and women's health, or in general just by supporting UN and grassroots programs aimed at unity, peace and reconciliation. I am hopeful that the U.S. will increase such support.
Posted in:
August 14, 2008 10:45 AM by Fatima Hassan | COMMENTS
Throughout this trip, I
have sensed the surprise of the locals when they see me traveling with a white,
American delegation. I am of African descent and I wear a headscarf and in many
ways seem odd in this group.
But I can connect to many Ugandan people on 2 levels - being African and Muslim.
Some of the locals even
speak to me in the local language and I have been welcomed with countless
"salaams," a
traditional Muslim greeting. Today provided me a rare opportunity to reflect on my presence in
the delegation and what message I was communicating to Ugandan girls in
particular.
REACH is a Ugandan NGO
that works to stop harmful traditional practices like female genital cutting
(FGM/C). Because FGC in Uganda is a
right of passage, REACH has created alternative initiation rituals. This group primarily
works in Kapchowra, Western Uganda where the Sabiny are amongst the few Ugandan
tribes who continue to practice FGC. Ms. Beatrice serves as the director
general and is among the few female activists who don't shy away from honest
discussion of
reproductive health. This is ironic, because here in Uganda women can have the
public space to discuss their sexual and reproductive rights openly. But in the United States
reproductive health has become too
polarized. I feel as if Americans don't really engage with women's
health and human rights issues and neglect to understand the magnitude of problems that can arise from
childbirth (ranging from fistula to maternal mortality)
.
After we arrived at the
Nanyata primary school in Kapchowra, a REACH program site that incorporates the
anti-FGC mission into its curriculum, I was delighted to learn that
the majority of the children were Muslim because I felt that our bond was greater than nationality. We
sat outside under a giant tree with rain clouds low in the distances and were
treated to schoolchildren performing skits and singing. Throughout the
performances, I could feel the curious stares of the children and wondered what
they were thinking. Right then Ms. Beatrice caught me off guard by asking me to
share words of encouragement with the children, especially important since I was
a Muslim woman and not the typical foreign visitor.
Initially I was
completely flustered but as I looked into the crowd of young faces, I could only
stress education as the single biggest tool for creating a future. It's not a coincidence that I
am a university student and find myself in Africa. Being in college has expanded
my understanding of history, leaving me hungry to learn more. But today I felt that I was
also a role model. I don't like talking about myself in such lofty ways, but I
pictured how seeing another black, Muslim woman was a powerful message to the
children. I tried to stress that the biggest difference between FGC in Somalia
and Uganda centers around choice. In Somalia, young girls have no choice about
what is being done to their bodies but here in Uganda teenagers can choose.
Amongst the Sabiny, female teens between the ages of 15-19 chose to be
circumcised because it has been an integral part of their culture. The cutting
ceremony is a test of strength since the courageous girls do not cry. Over lunch
Ms. Beatrice stated cutting is "not relevant today" and I couldn't agree more.
If FGC is a test of strength in this community, I couldn't help but wish that
females achieving a high school diploma could one day be regarded strong women.
The way I see it, with more education in schools, young women will be able to
make more informed decisions about their bodies.
The importance of
positive role models cannot be understated, especially when the public roles of
women are limited. As a
young child, I had strong women role models to look up to including my Somali
grandmother, a single
mother of ten children. Many girls today voiced their ambitions to be doctors,
nurses, headmistress or engineers and I was delighted to hear this, especially
after the other female delegates explained they, too, were nurses and engineers.
We also visited a
secondary boarding school and met Agnes, a charismatic, confident, and outspoken
student leader of the REACH program in her high school. Agnes completely blew me
away and was such an inspiring product of youth empowerment clubs. Often when
visiting schools or clinics, women can be shy and reticent but Agnes was an
excellent public speaker. As one of the delegates stated, women should not only
have the right to speak, but need to speak up in order for their societies to
fully understand their lives. This remarkable young woman reminded me strongly
of Ms. Beatrice. Both
have the immense courage to speak loudly and clearly about genital cutting, simply stating that they
are beautiful, just the way God made them. It is time we all listen.
Posted in:
August 12, 2008 9:37 AM by Fatima Hassan | COMMENTS
I am finally here in Kampala, Uganda! I say "finally" because it took nearly 2 and half days of travel to arrive at the Entebbe International Airport and around an hour to drive into the capital city. While the flight was sometimes painful (14 hours, non-stop), the drive was an amazing introduction to the Ugandan lifestyle for four of us on the delegation. We passed Lake Victoria, the source of the Nile River and drove past groves of banana trees. Ugandan music blared from cars and from tiny stores on the sides of the road, where teenagers and children seemed to run from shop to shop. Dusty brick red roads dipped into valleys and hills all around the main highway, leading to rectangular concrete homes with laundry hanging in the breeze. The sides of the highways were very busy with children selling tomatoes, pineapples, and vegetables.
Most of the shops we passed were painted bright pink, yellow or green and their slogans boasted "we can keep you in touch", or " we are everywhere you go". After a while, I began to realize that these ubiquitous buildings were cell phone companies. Sometimes, the same brand would be across the street from each other! Cell phones are extremely popular here, since they are much cheaper than landlines and just like in the US, major brands offer promotions package to sign on new customers.
Kampala is bustling city with nearly 3 million people and Uganda's overall population is about 30 million. Originally Kampala was comprised of 7 hills but today there are 21 hills, partly because development has boomed in the last 10 years. Additionally the fertility rate in Uganda is amongst the highest in the world, with the average woman giving birth to 6 or more children. A population surge like this can be destabilizing because the younger the country's population, the more able-bodied fighters are available to fuel conflicts in the region. In Uganda, 60% of households are headed by someone 18 years old or younger. Clearly, teen pregnancies contribute to these sobering statistics and indicate the need for reproductive health education.
Hearing these numbers and facts was overwhelming but it's important to understand that many groups have worked successfully in providing prevention and treatment in Uganda. Tomorrow afternoon, the delegation will visit a NGO that specifically works with the youth to educate about HIV/STI/ and teen pregnancy prevention. This particular group reaches out to teen commercial sex workers (usually female) and helps empower them with jobs in addition to leading health intervention.
Many buildings and billboards in Kampala are advertisements to buy Coca-Cola or Nestlé's milk, but others are public health posters. One member of the delegation pointed out her favorite of an old man and a quote hovering near him- "Do you want this man to stop sleeping with your daughter? Then why do you sleep with his?" This poster is part of a campaign to stop older men from seeking out younger women and another poster clearly stated "no cross generational sex". Most of these posters are blunt, but I guess honesty about health is necessary to promote safe behaviors and reaches out to everyone. I'll keep an eye out for these public health fliers and hope to include a picture in an upcoming blog...
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January 4, 2008 6:51 PM by Tammy Tibbetts | COMMENTS
I’m back in New York now, yet I still think about the little friends I made. I wonder if the orphans who asked for my e-mail address will save it and write to me someday when they do have computer access. I wonder what Ellen Johnson Sirleaf thinks about our upcoming election, and the possibility that we could have our first woman president too.
While I traveled, I read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. In her travels to Italy, India, and Indonesia, she summed up exactly what my trip to Liberia was all about: “You abandon your comforting and familiar habits with the hope (the mere hope!) that something greater will be offered you in return for what you’ve given up.”
Of course, what you give up is nothing compared to what the people of any third world country go without. I gained a huge appreciation for everything from hot showers to my safety and opportunities as a woman in the US. Things that used to annoy me big time — like the buses that always seem to break down while I’m commuting on the NJ Turnpike — don’t anymore. Instead, I’m just happy to travel from Point A to Point B without worrying about my safety. Liberian women still live in that fear, as evidenced by billboards all over the Monrovia roadways that protest rape and abuse.
I realized that “something greater” Elizabeth Gilbert hinted at was a message I couldn’t get just from a series of interviews with MacDella in a cushy New York City apartment. I had to actually follow her from orphanage to orphanage, to see her stand up to Liberian adults who wanted to rip her off, to watch her strategize with the principal of a school. I gained so much depth to a story that proves style and substance balance each other out. With all the celebs who travel and adopt kids from Africa, obviously glamour and social conscience can go hand-in-hand…but I guess I needed to see it myself, through someone who isn’t a tabloid target, to trust the sincerity of it. READ MORE 
Posted in:
January 3, 2008 6:51 PM by Tammy Tibbetts | COMMENTS
There is no glamour in Liberia. Electricity runs on generators, which turn on automatically at 7 pm and shut off at 7:30am, along with the running water (yes, that means no toilet flushing during the day). We bathed by splashing water onto our bodies from a bucket in the bathtub. We popped a malaria pill every day. But we hadn’t come to Liberia looking for luxury.
What Liberia lacks in resources it makes up for in the children’s gratitude, which is off the charts. As soon as we arrived at the Children’s Rescue Mission Orphanage, a group of kids ran over to give MacDella and I hugs. READ MORE
Posted in:
January 2, 2008 6:51 PM by Tammy Tibbetts | COMMENTS
If you were to look up Liberia on Wikitravel, you will find a red WARNING box that says “the US State Department strongly urges American citizens to consider the risks of traveling to Liberia.” And before you depart, you need seven shots — for yellow fever, typhoid, Hep A, polio, meningitis, tetanus, and influenza. More than once, I thought taking a vacation to a a nation that was recovering from civil war was pretty nuts.
But, I focused on the positive. One, Liberia is rapidly recovering under the leadership of the first woman president in Africa, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf. Two, we would be visiting orphans and abandoned children supported by the MacDella Cooper Foundation in the capital, Monrovia. My college friend Genevieve Faust was joining me, shooting a documentary as I took photos and blogged. And we were under the protection of MacDella Cooper, known to her admirers as “Liberia’s Angel.” READ MORE
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December 11, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
My four weeks in Africa were filled with long days of reporting, emotionally challenging excursions to cities outside of Accra, and poignant cultural experiences I will always remember. The poverty and suffering I saw made me realize how much help we, as Americans, need to give. It’s not just about donating a dollar here, buying a product (Red shirt) there. We need to increase our awareness about the world and how much people need our help. They need proper waste management, running water, higher wages, decent and affordable health care, energy resources, better education and job services. As humans we have a responsibility to others. One helping hand can be an inspiration, but think about what 1,000 hands could do.
When I was at the airport on my way back to New York, I was so excited to be returning to my life before Ghana. I couldn’t wait to see my boyfriend, my friends and family. Yet some part of me felt different. I knew my life had to change somehow when I stepped off the plane.
I stood in the U.S. citizens line at customs. I felt a swell of happiness in my chest. As each person had their passports checked and stamped I got closer to home. When it was my turn to step up to the booth, I said hello to the customs officer and handed him my paperwork.
“That’s the best smile I’ve seen all day,” he said. READ MORE
Posted in:
December 10, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
lmina is a quaint fishing village three hours West of Accra. As you drive through the village, you can see older stone buildings still standing from colonial days mixed in with the newer wooden huts and buildings. This town is home of St. George's Castle, a slave castle used to store and ship thousands of Ghanaians during the Trans-Atlantic slave trade.
The slave castle is large and white. It dominates the landscape of the city. When we pulled up to the castle a giant compass made of stones and wood covered an area near the entrance. As we walked across the drawbridge, you could hear the waves crashing nearby and fisherman hard at work in the distance. Both the Portuguese and the Dutch once used this building for trade, but instead of goods the storage rooms on the lowest level of the castle became dungeons to hold slaves. READ MORE
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December 7, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
On the road to Kumasi, I had a lot of time to think about the African culture and way of life. We sat in our air-conditioned charter bus and drove up the long, pothole-covered highway to Kumasi, Ghana’s “cultural epicenter.” So far, it was my favorite part of the trip because I was able to see the real Africa. Along the highway there are many villages where people live out their days working the land and selling their crops. Some pass hours by sitting in the dirt under the shade of a tree, waiting for someone to buy the corn they grew next to their home. Others tend to their children or watch them as they play a game that looks similar to jump rope (without the rope).
While looking out the window I found an honest beauty and appreciation of life. For centuries Ghanaians have lived the same way, the way all people began — by living off what Earth provides. What they have does not look like much, but they have what they need to survive. And that’s when it really sunk in — humans really know how to survive.
Through disease, oppression, natural disasters, and even the seasons, we always find a way to make it. It was a strange feeling, because I felt sad to see children bathing in buckets with just a thatched roof over their heads, or the overworked mothers sleeping on benches in front of their shops. Or I may have felt surprised to see men holding up dead rabbits, cotton tail and all, to every person who drove by. But I ultimately felt a sense of pride for the people, because in a way they represent the struggle for progress humankind has faced. READ MORE
Posted in:
December 6, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
Small, brightly painted mud-brick houses sag with fatigue under the afternoon sun in Buduburam, a Liberian refugee camp in Ghana. The stench of waste is overwhelming until a light breeze brings a whiff of humid air. Friendly young women lift their heads from their wash tubs, waving while keeping their other hand in the suds. Occasionally a girl of no more than sixteen will stop and talk to her neighbor with her baby tied to her back. The vibrant cloth strapped tightly across the mother’s breasts keeps the baby comfortably wrapped behind them piggy-back style. Babies round heads bob as she sets off on her next errand. The rhythmic crunch of the dirt beneath her feet makes her babies eyelids flutter closed.
Shop owners lean back in their chairs sleepily as they listen to a battery-powered radio. A man sleeps inside the darkness of his pastry shop as his two sons play in front, their foreheads shining from perspiration. Although the sun is hot and few trees shade the refugee camp, kids are everywhere. Young children of all ages dressed in hand-me-down clothes amuse each other with clapping games or tag. But some children are busy selling water or helping with household chores. Some lucky kids sit packed in a brick schoolhouse paying anywhere from the $10-50 U.S. dollars a semester. READ MORE
Posted in:
December 5, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
La Pleasure Beach was the day I received my first lesson in Ghana’s gender culture.
As my friends and I walked on the beach, men harassed and grabbed at us. "I will lick you from head to toe," said a man as he stepped closer to me. "I will lick you all over." If they did not say inappropriate things, they were staring or following us. We all felt uncomfortable, but we were told that this is customary behavior by men. Women's bodies are basically fair game in Ghana. (No wonder the women stay inside.) The beach was like the market, but we were the ones on sale.
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December 4, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
Along the streets of Accra, everyone is selling or buying something. Some walk with beautiful posture, carrying enormous tubs and platters piled high on their heads. One woman sells an assortment of toiletries, while another reminds me of Chiquita Banana with a hat of twenty pineapples. Young men balance pastries in wooden and plastic cases. On the highways, they walk through traffic demonstrating their acrobatics and haggling with their customers between the lanes.
The city is all about making a profit and celebrating their patriotism. From the people selling goods between the lanes, to the hundreds of red, gold and green painted shops, everyone is out to make their lives — and their country — better.
As a beacon of African leadership, Ghana has become a model and inspiration to other African countries seeking to bring themselves up from the dregs of poverty and colonization. Since we have been in Ghana, the African Union has been in conference.
READ MORE
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December 3, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
When we reached our dorm building in a residential area of Accra called Labone, we were all pleased at the sight of our apartments and our quaint yet developing neighborhood.
The most pronounced aspect of current Ghanaian culture is the 50th anniversary of the country’s independence. Everything on the streets is covered in the flag’s colors. Red, yellow, and green items are for sale in shops that are painted — yep — red, yellow, and green. From the billboards down to the fabric and jewelry sold, Ghana’s national identity is prevalent. The national flag is one of the most important symbols in Ghana. In 1967, the Gold Coast was renamed Ghana because it was not ethnically specific to any of the 79 different ethnic groups living in the country. The founding fathers of modern Ghana also argued that there was an ancient empire located in West Africa between 900-1200 A.D. that settled here. They believed that this ancient empire was worthy of emulation even if the geography was inaccurate. READ MORE
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November 30, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
Inside the airport terminal red, gold, and green sashes streamed from the walls and ceiling. Black stars dangled with pride, each decoration celebrating Ghanaian patriotism and 50 years of independence.
I met with the contact in charge of taking my group to our residence. I was amazed by the amount of people waiting in front of the airport. People immediately started shouting at us, “Taxi! Taxi! Let me take your bags!” Men clamored over each other to offer their services, only to be rebuffed by our bus driver.
On the way to the residence I saw walled communities of homes set atop red clay dirt. Some houses were small and looked abandoned until I spotted children running in or out of them to play.
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Posted in:
November 29, 2007 1:12 AM by Christa Babson-Thomas | COMMENTS
Since moving to Manhattan last summer, I’ve learned that there are two things you must have to survive the big city. The first, of course, is an apartment. The second (which is of equal importance but slightly difficult to define) is opportunity. So when I heard the buzz about a study-abroad program in my journalism department at New York University, I was immediately interested in the details.
For one month, a graduate student could travel to Africa, be housed by an NYU facility, and learn how to conduct international reporting. Seeing as I didn’t study abroad during undergrad and I had always wanted to visit Africa, I thought it would be an adventure I could not miss. Not to mention my growing curiosity about international freelancing. So at the beginning of the spring semester, I signed up for the course and began to prepare for the trip.
As I waited for the airport shuttle van to pick me up for the airport, a slew of thoughts rushed through my mind. I started to go over the items I had packed in my luggage — passport, laptop, travel guide, pens. I felt warm with anxiety, but I knew the humidity wasn’t all to blame — sunblock, Band-Aids, antibiotics. I wiped my palms against my shorts — malaria medication, mosquito repellent. I could feel a nervous knot in my stomach as the trip weighed on my mind. READ MORE
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