I found today the email I sent home from Ethiopia, in October 2008. It was the first time I had come across the extent and scale of female genital cutting. I wanted to reproduce it for posterity here – to remind us why Orchid was started. It’s quite a personal entry, but as we’re discovering as we work with these issues, stories matter. Here’s part of mine:
Letter home to friends, 10 October 2008, Addis Ababa:
More musings from afar. But I am not afar, I am simply here. It’s been just over a month since I left. Does it seem like a month in your life? Time has gone slowly, but here, with our sparse information and access to the web, we are all shocked at the sudden demise of the western world and credit crunches and Icelandic collapses. I would hazard that being here provides some much needed perspective, as the real meaning of the global economy in crisis has a very different impact. It seems people here are starving.
My first impressions of Ethiopia were framed by rain and by being constantly cold. And by being one of 51 people in the VSO arrival cohort. We were cloistered in the Red Cross centre for the first 9 days, a welcome induction to this remarkable country. Addis is the second highest capital city in the world and the altitude does something to the body.
Thin, thinner, harder. Just a bit difficult to see clearly and feel like thick blood is flowing. Because it isn’t. Thin blood is flowing. I feel un-substanced, which really isn’t a word. As we walk out to get in a line taxi (a sort of public minibus) there is a gnawed, tasselled fleshy bone, just lying on the grass verge. It is a jointed bone, long as if from a donkey’s leg. The women walk, their heads covered with a white cloth. The rain drips down, then cascades. Rivers are made out of the crumbling mud roads. Uncrossable.
Thank you to those of you those of you who have sent gentle enquiring emails about how I am and whether I am going to be in touch. A different place, such a different feel from Cambodia. You’d think I would have known that. Instead, I’m firmly in Addis. Ethiopia. Sub-saharan Africa. Funny what we label places, what power there is in a name. I’d always heard about the needs of sub-saharan Africa, or its music, but had never had a place to imagine. Like many of you, I’d heard Bob Geldof and others talk and talk about Africa being the only issue, the place that we have to pull out of poverty. I had no idea. I really couldn’t have located it.
I’ve just walked back from the Shola market, having tried to buy food and other provisions. I ended up a bit discouraged. The vegetables are paltry; tiny tomatoes, garlic, onions, cabbage, sometimes some green beans, if lucky, some very wilted lettuce, small green oranges. The meat looks amazing; whole carcasses hang in small corrugated iron shacks. You simply go and point at the bit you want. Needless to say, we’ve been warned not to do this due to lack of any refrigeration or the flies that buzz around the meat.
Almost everyone has been ill so far – I’ve avoided it, thanks in no small part to the artemesia (an anti-parasitic) supplied by my buddy Julia – homeopathic remedies can be worth their weight in gold! Tomorrow night, friends are coming to dinner. It will be spaghetti with tomatoes, garlic, onions, then oranges marinated in cardamon and clove syrup, I think. The simplest dinner I have ever cooked for guests.
The Shola market hosts many many stalls, selling used clothing, pots and pans, swathes of material, garish blankets, Manchester United rucksacks, food, to name but a few. My friend Al and I pick our way through the rough paths that run between the stalls. A decapitated rat lies in the middle of one path. It is barely noticeable as its colour blends so easily. Al and I talk football – I bemoan being a fair-weather Spurs fan in a city that rocks only to the tune of Arsenal (why?) He breaks the unwelcome news that Spurs are at the bottom of the table. We hear the unmistakeable tones of football commentary and follow the sound to a corrugated iron room with a huge screen with wooden planks for benches. There must be about one hundred men inside watching Everton v Liverpool. No score after 30 minutes. Outside, people play table football.
On my way home, along my deeply rutted road, I pass an old old man. He is wearing an old dark blue suit. He sits almost under the hedge at the side of the road. He has opened a rubbish bag and is eating the contents. His fingers have bent into curves and his hands scoop the waste up. I walk on. Then turn back. I do the only thing I can think of – give him an orange from my first shopping trip to the market. He takes it. The green ball of orange fits neatly into his cupped hands. “Salaam” I say – it’s all I can think of. “Thank you,” he replies in perfect English. He puts the orange carefully into his suit pocket and resumes his meal. I walk on up to my house and carefully unpack my shopping.
Much goodwill somehow lost this week when I attempt to track down my missing knickers. When you wash your clothes by hand, you tend to remember how many you have of something. In any case, four have disappeared from the washing line. This is not an easy task to deal with in Amharic, with a respected Ethiopian elder – my landlord. He takes it with good grace, until he asks what sort of clothes are missing. I make a vague sweep around the hip area. “Socks?” he asks. “No” I say. Almaz his wife appears, smiling broadly. Kiefely turns to her and soon, his stream of Amharic stems her smile. The whole place is suddenly active as people hunt for my knickers. I stand weakly on my doorstep, watching, wandering what I have unwittingly unleashed.
Sunday afternoon in Addis. Peter treats me to brunch. An elite grouping of, frankly, whites in a café high above Addis. I get there by minibus taxi. Many cups of coffee (too many) and fresh fruit and strawberry and hibiscus smoothies later, we pick up chocolate cake and head home. I am introduced to Penille, his wife, Buddy, the beautiful chocolate Labrador, Panther, the cat as well as his daughter, who’s Danish name I didn’t get. Our talk turns to the euphemisms that are bandied around constantly, that all seem to relate to violence against women. “Harmful Traditional Practices” is the most frequent one. But some people come out and say genital mutilation. Do you know what I’m talking about? Of course you do. To be honest, female circumcision doesn’t really get there. As Peter points out, male and female circumcision are barely comparable – in fact, it could be considered that there is a real benefit for male circumcision. And for women, it’s not just folds of skin that are cut away, it is the clitoris. The labia are then often cut away too, then sewn up. After time, like any part of the body, they heal and the “gap” closes.
The figures differ wildly, Penille has heard that almost 90% of women in Ethiopia are circumcised. The repercussions are horrendous. Women are cut open on their wedding nights to allow their husbands access. Birth also presents huge problems and women are often, again, cut open. The dramatic irony that giving birth here can kill is not lost on me. And women have, on average, five children each. The population of Ethiopia is growing at the fastest rate of any African country.
The project I am working on, Valuing Teachers, has an anodyne sentence about girls being absent from school because they are afraid of being abducted. They are taken on the journey to and from school in order to be married. They can be anywhere from 8 to 14. In fact, if a girl is older than 14 and not married in a rural area something has gone wrong. Women teachers who have just qualified are posted to remote areas. They would like to have more control over their postings because they are afraid of sexual violence, when away from their communities and families.
I find that I need to check my tone about all of this. I mean, they are traditional practices after all – communities have been doing this for centuries. I suppose I am judgemental. Actually, bollocks to that, I’m outraged. I think of things that my (our?) society is based upon – sexual rights, gender politics, feminism, inclusion, equality – and I wonder if I’m living on a different planet. In the west companies are now manufacturing discreet vibrators and sexual toys for mass marketing to supermarkets, so that we can improve our sex lives and gain even more satisfaction. Here, girls are held down and have a part of them cut out. Western guilt? Western compassion? Patriarchal hegemony?
The funny thing is, one of the reasons this happens is so that women will be safe from men. It guarantees their virginity. And lest I seem to be glossing over it, I too am so aware that this is something perpetuated by women. Done sometimes by mothers to daughters. There are so many stories of violence. Maybe I should have left talking about this one until I know more.
I’ve been at a World Teachers Day event, with my counterpart organisation, the Ethiopian Teachers’ Association. The minister arrived (late) gave a brief speech about the importance of quality education then left. I spoke with an MP and the head of the Teachers’ Development Programme at the Ministry. As is the case all around the world, it is the civil servants who know the real issues, who are able to talk properly about what is happening without the lens of politics, the flare and the guttering of personal ambition, just simply the facts that they are entrenched in. It was a fascinating discussion. I have my work cut out for me though if I am to publish this research in the brief time I am here. As ever, there is more to be done and it is frankly the job of a researcher, not an advocacy person. Still. I’m here. I’ll do it.
I am very lucky to be working side by side with some amazing Ethiopians. The level of education and hence, comprehension is in a league above Cambodia. The work ethic is very strong and I’m intrigued to know whether this is an Ethiopian ambition or whether it is reflected in other parts of Africa. I’m also left wondering how with this “human capital” this country is the sixth poorest in the world. I’m in the rarefied atmosphere of Addis though. And lest I forget, it was only recently this country emerged from its own recent famine where thousands died and a brutal regime in the 70s where even more were massacred. Interesting how much we all know of the Khmer Rouge and other “high profile” conflicts, but what the Derg did in Ethiopia is barely known.
And in my complacency, I met the Oxfam advocacy adviser on Friday. She says that the humanitarian crisis in the east of the country is the worst she has seen in all her time working in the field. There could be another famine on the scale of one that was seen in the 80s.
I was shocked to discover more from western media about the humanitarian crisis in Ethiopia throughout the last week. And that this has been the main reason for Douglas Alexander’s visit. We had all thought it was because of the draconian laws shortly to be bought in that will make it extremely difficult for any NGOs to operate in this country. We had heard nothing of the crisis in the Somali and Afar provinces. The only way to discover more is to ask some of you to send me international coverage – apparently you are hearing more about Ethiopia than we are…. Yet again, it proves to me the importance of the role of the media. Last year, a particularly harsh media law was passed, which prohibits much of the reporting that we would consider “normal.” Everything is very tightly controlled here. A number of people have now warned me not to mention that I’m here as an advocacy adviser, that I should be doing anything I want, but not advocacy. Perhaps I should be happy as a researcher after all.
This weekend, a few of us took a bus to the outskirts of Addis. And finally, we were able to climb up out of the fumes, the noise, the bustle and into some of the most beautiful scenery I had seen for a long time. The altitude meant most of us didn’t reach the summit (that’s my excuse) but just to breathe the air was amazing.
[I’ve been trying to insert photos as I go along, but it’s proving difficult. Imagine a lush green panaroma, interspersed with golden yellow, the flower of Meskel, and cows grazing. In the distance, a high hill, a shining blue sky and the haze spread across the horizon].
But FGM is still on my mind. You know what the acronym stands for. I’m going to shock you now by copying out what is in the Lonely Planet. Those of you who commented that my Cambodian writings were sometimes too close to the bone (and you know who you are!) navigate away now, and enjoy your day. Ignorance possibly is bliss:
“The practice of female genital mutilation or female genital cutting as it’s now officially known is particularly rampant in the eastern part of the Horn of Africa as well as in other parts of Africa and Asia. It’s believed that two million women each year are cut worldwide; in other words 6,000 women a day.
Modern sociologists believe it’s just the “natural continuation of the ancient patriarchal repression of female sexuality.” Past examples include Romans using genital rings, Crusaders using chastity belts and 19th century doctors in Europe and America operating on female genitalia to cure antisocial conditions like nymphomania, insanity and depression. However, nowhere else has female genital cutting taken more of a hold than in Africa.
Reasons given for mutilation vary from hygiene to aesthetics to superstitions that uncut women can’t conceive. Others believe that the strict following of traditional beliefs is crucial to maintaining social cohesion and a sense of belonging, much like male circumcision is to Jews. Some also say that it prevents female promiscuity.
In theory there are three types of mutilation. “Circumcision” (the name often given confusingly to all forms of mutilation) involves the removing of the clitoris’ hood or prepuce. “Excision” makes up 80% of the cases and involves the removal of some or all of the clitoris and all or part of the inner genitals (labia minora). “Infibulation” is the severest form and requires the removal of the clitoris, the inner genitals and most or all of the outer genitals (labia majora). The two sides of the vulva are then stitched together with catgut, thread, reed or thorns. A tiny opening is preserved for the passage of urine by inserting a small object like a twig. The girl’s legs are then bound together and she’s kept immobile for up to 40 days to allow the formation of scar tissue.
There’s no doubt that female genital mutilation brings enormous physical pain and suffering. An estimated 15% of girls die postoperatively. Those who survive suffer countless ongoing complications and pain, as well as untold psychological suffering. As one doctor puts it: “These women are holding back a scream so strong it would shake the earth.”
You may wonder why I’m telling you all this, making you read these horrific things that happen to small girls. The answer is, I don’t know. I don’t know yet. But I think I will.
October, 2008
Female genital cutting on the web in Feb: Orchid’s commentary
February has been a month of momentum in the FGC arena. Not only were the range of events on February 6th (International Day against Female Genital Cutting) a success in terms of outreach, but an enormous amount of coverage on FGC has been circulating its way around the world – online, in print, at events, and most importantly, on the ground.
Great news from the grassroots
Perhaps the most rewarding actions that took place in February were those taken at the grassroots level. People from practising communities are saying ‘no’ to FGC. Sustained campaigns to end FGC in Kenya have led to a 16% reduction in the practice since 2003, while Pokot men in Uganda are publicly protesting FGC in their communities. Human rights activists in Tanzania have been urging the government to designate International Day against Female Genital Cutting. A local agency in the Gambia (The Gambia Committee on Traditional Practices Affecting the Health of Women and Children – GAMCOTRAP), has called on the government to put into place specific laws to protect young women from the practice. In Tunisia, hundreds united in protest against the arrival of Islamic cleric Wagdy Ghonem from Egypt, whose support and promotion of FGC greatly angered the Tunisian people.
African States have also been undertaking measures to ensure an end to FGC. The Ugandan government has been the latest to join a UN-backed international initiative to end FGC globally. In addition, the Minister of Women’s Empowerment and the Family, Marie Thérèse Abena Ondoa of Cameroon stated that FGC is a major preoccupation of the Cameroonian government, and that they are urging the UN to adopt a resolution against the practice.
News in the UK and USA
The movement to end FGC is garnering international attention – the message is being heard, people are demanding action, and high level commitments are being made. In the UK, the Department for International Development (DFID) as well as members of the Houses of Commons and Lords, have been pushing FGC to the forefront of debates. There have been five mentions of FGC in Parliament in the past month alone.
This high priority issue is not just being discussed; politicians and civil servants are also pledging their dedication to the cause. During Orchid Project’s February 6th Parliamentary Reception in the House of Commons, UK Minister Stephen O’Brien stated, “We will play our full part in the UK to end FGC and look at what more DFID can do.”
Across the Atlantic, US Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, clarified the position that her government takes toward the human rights issue, “…We’re elevating this issue, but it’s part of our overall elevation of the role of women and girls in our foreign policy economically, strategically, politically. Through USAID, the United States co-founded the international Donors Working Group on Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting, which needs continued high-level international support, and we will redouble our efforts.”
In Canada, medical practitioners declared that they consider the practice a human rights violation and an unacceptable procedure in the medical world. Dr. Margaret Burnett, head of the Social and Sexual Issues Committee of The Society of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists in Canada, explained that “There are no clear guidelines for health care professionals in dealing with requests for [female genital cutting] procedures or for providing culturally competent care for women who have already been subjected to [the procedure]. The good news is we are working on these now.”
Both inter- and non-governmental organisations have also been contributing to the dialogue. The 56th session of the Commission on the Status of Women in New York City, united organisations from across the globe with an interest in women’s rights. Three events during the two week long session focused specifically on FGC. In addition, UN Goodwill Ambassador and world-renowned musician, Angelique Kidjo, gave a benefit concert at UN headquarters in order to raise awareness about the issue.
Angelique Kidjo at the UN - Image from Europanewsblog.com
Hope for change
The news online in February has shown us that substantial and progressive change can occur, and is doing so. Across the globe, people are raising their voices against the practice. From local organisations to the United Nations, progress is swiftly being made toward ending FGC. We are at an unprecedented point in history –FGC could end within our generation. If this wealth of FGC coverage in the past month is an indicator of the progress that is yet to be made, we are well on our way.