“Unconsciously, I was a girl who did what she wanted”- Dr. Aissa Bouwaye Ado (Niger) – 1/4
We begin our conversation with Dr. Aissa Bouwaye Ado, girls’ advocate and a long-term public worker from Niger.
In this interview, she first tells us about her desire to be educated even though it was forbidden because of her child of the Royal Court status. She also shares her fight against being forced into marriage at the end of her adolescence (Part 2). Then we talk about the evolution of her resistance (Part 3), how it impacted young girls and finally, she shares her hopes for them (Part 4).
Dr. Aissa was interviewed by Françoise Moudouthe in late 2019 as part of a global project documenting girls’ resistance. The conversation was edited into this four-part interview by Nana Bruce-Amanquah and Chanceline Mevowanou for our #GirlsResistWA series. You can learn more about the series here.
Trigger warning: this conversation contains mentions of violence and abuse which may be triggering for readers. Kindly take a moment to decide if you want to keep reading. If you do proceed, we encourage you to centre your wellbeing and stop reading at any point, as you need.
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Hello Dr. Aissa, thank you for being part of this series. When you think about your girlhood, what age comes to mind?
My adolescence started when I was 10 and lasted until I was 20. My fight, however, started before I was 10. I’d say around 7 years old. I grew up in a chiefdom in which children, especially girls, aren’t systematically sent to school. Each time a quota is requested, my family would seek kids from other families to send to school, not us. It is said that children from the Royal Family don’t need an education and that they must remain in the family to ensure its longevity. But I wanted to go to school, and so I went by myself.
What made you want to go to school so badly?
I don’t know. Curiosity maybe. The school was a new place in the village, and we didn’t know what it was about. When I saw people going there, I would follow them. I remember it well; we were in warehouses and I would sit down with the girls.
How did others respond to your attempt to go to school?
The other girls told me “We’re going to hit you; don’t follow us”. They would see me come back from school and tell me “You’re still going to school? When are you going to stop?”. I woke up each day and told my mom I would help her with all the house chores. I would do everything to be able to go to school. I wasn’t hiding when I went, so people saw me. I was scolded, and people tried to stop me from going but I found a way to go. I was finally enrolled in school in the Second Grade.
You fought for your education at a very young age. Were you always this bold? What kind of girl were you back then?
I was kind of a rebellious girl. I unconsciously was a girl who did what she wanted. I was surrounded by my uncles and aunts, but they had no idea what i was thinking or the plans in my head.
Could you tell me more about where you grew up? Where is your home?
Home is a remote region called Dakoro. It’s 700 km away from Niamey. I grew up in a family where the man has the say, not the woman, the mother, or the aunts. I’m a Fulani woman, and I even have tattoos on my face. I have to say all of this contributed to my rebelling. My maternal grandfather is the younger brother of the village chief. We have a Royal Court. It always enraged me to take off my shoes to greet my grandfather and access the Court. The distinction between the Royal Family and the others revolted me.
In our family, we have traditions like family unions and leaving the firstborn to the care of their uncles and aunts. My parents don’t even say my name. I’m the firstborn daughter but since they are surrounded by their siblings, they don’t talk to their first child. When I walked into the room, my father, may his soul rest in peace, would tell me to leave. My mother avoids me when we have visitors. So, I would go to my maternal and paternal uncles and aunts. We all live together as a society. That’s how I grew up.
You talked a lot about what you were incensed about. What brought you joy?
I honestly grew up with a lot of love from my community. My uncles and aunts… everyone loved me. I was cherished by both sides of the family. In our family, when you go spend the holiday at an aunt’s, you’re given gifts: a sheep, a goat… I was cherished. That brought me joy. My fight to go to school made me happy too.
Did your family continue to oppose your schooling even after you were enrolled in the Second Grade?
Yes, my family used their influence to prevent me from going to school. My mom stopped me from studying at home until the Fifth Grade. When I tried to learn, I was beaten, my schoolbooks were taken away from me and I was given lots of chores. I was forbidden from learning my lessons at home. While most moms helped their children with homework, it was the other way around for us at home. The teacher had to talk to my parents and tell them I was top of my class, to allow me to go to school.
When I got into middle school, in the Sixth Grade, and then high school, I was selected to go to boarding school in Niamey. I was excited to move to the big city, like every girl from the country. They tried to stop me from moving. They said it was too far away, and they even influenced my mom. Once, I overheard my mother and my aunt talking and saying “Ok, we’re in Africa, let’s find marabouts to prevent her from leaving.”
Oh, Wow.
I informed the school headmaster. I told him that my mom didn’t allow me to go to Niamey. He went to see my parents and told them that if they didn’t let me go to boarding school, it was at their own risk. It was a military regime back then, so they got scared. That’s how they let me go into Sixth Grade in 1970. I did the whole year, and during the Seventh Grade, I found out that my family had decided that I wouldn’t come back to school. I was to be married off.
After she gave us her upbringing background and her family, we are now going to talk more about this marriage in the second part. Click here to read about it.