"It's through the struggle that we have built our sisterhood" - Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 4/4

We are in conversation with Awa Fall-Diop, Senegalese feminist activist, educator and specialist in gender justice and social movement building. 

We learned about her childhood in a working-class neighbourhood in Senegal (Part 1), her upbringing and the beginnings of her feminist engagements (Part 2), and her analyses of the impact of the Beijing Conference (1995) on African women's rights (Part 3).

In this fourth and final part, we explore her thoughts on various topics such as the plurality of African feminisms, sorority and the importance of intergenerational relationships in activism.

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We speak as African feminists. How do you define African feminism?

Just as there is no such thing as feminism at the conceptual level, at the political level, at the level of reality, there is no such thing as African feminism either. We can't talk about African feminism, but about African feminisms, given that Africa is diverse and multifaceted. 

Africa has known different historical trajectories. Some countries were invaded by Christianity. Other countries were invaded by Muslim Arabs. Others have experienced one of the two, in addition to colonisation, either by the Dutch, Belgian, German, French or British. This gives our different countries different realities, and generates different cultures and different claims. Even if there is the strategic demand, the central demand that is shared, concerns equal rights, equal opportunities, equal chances among all social categories. I think it's interesting to ask the very question of the birth of this concept of African feminism: what was at the root of it?

What do you think it is?

African women, in all countries, didn't feel fully taken into account in the analyses made by the international feminist movement, which was essentially white, American-European-centric, and which therefore based its reflections and analyses on the experiences of white women. Black women as a whole, not just African women, but Black women, made the analysis that if white European women suffer gender oppression and class oppression, Black women suffer both gender and class oppression, but also racial oppression. That was the first level. 

What's the second level? 

African feminists, in a spirit of decolonisation, have added another dimension to show that, yes, Black feminists exist, but that we, as African feminists, suffer not only gender oppression as women, class oppression, racial oppression, but also oppression because we are women of the South. This has added an extra dimension to the parameters of oppression that we experience as African women.

And even there, as African women, we also had to make another distinction because the experience of women from the Maghreb is very different from the experience of South African women, who had to experience apartheid, just like that of women from Central Africa, West Africa, or East Africa. 

That's why you were talking about African feminisms.

Yes, this means that beyond the fact that we live on the same continent with specificities, there are also local realities that we need to consider in our analyses, as well as specific experiences. Don't you agree that we need to consider this? That's why, from my point of view, even when we talk about African feminisms, we must always carry out a contextual analysis to identify the mechanisms of oppression, the demands based on women's needs, and the appropriate strategies of struggle. That's my understanding of African feminisms, which I always use in the plural.

Intersectionality is a concept that allows us to understand that experiences of oppression are not uniform, and not to analyse them as isolated processes. Do you think our activism are sufficiently intersectional on the continent? 

Intersectionality, from the point of view of our analyses, is not yet a reality. I don't even mean from the point of view of our actions, but from the point of view of our analyses. We slip the word intersectionality into a sentence; we evoke it at the turn of an intervention to satisfy funders. We play with key concepts in our struggle. We play with the lives of other people whose rights are violated, who are denied all existence and who we'd like to wipe off the face of the earth.

For example, many cisgender feminist organizations are talking about it more and more, writing about it in their texts. But when we organize activities, it's always just us cisgender feminists. Maybe, from time to time, we'll invite a lesbian feminist, but we'll be careful not to let anyone know. Because we say to ourselves: there are safety issues. It's true that the issue is very complex, but I think we need to foster a revolution in our own ways of thinking, in our own organizations, and integrate intersectionality more into our thinking, our analyses and our actions.

I fully understand that we need to insist on a collective approach. These analyses must be collective if they are to be carried out properly.

Absolutely.

How have you experienced sisterhood in the course of your career? 

It was through the struggle that we built our sisterhood. In the movement, I remember - perhaps women's agendas have changed a lot since then with the hazards and rhythms of life, living conditions. But before, among feminists, even feminists who were in other organizations, we knew where they lived, we could go to their homes, and they could come to ours. We knew their families. We lent each other clothes and handbags. It may seem trivial, but it was important. That doesn't mean we didn't quarrel. Oh no, we quarrelled, we fought, we scratched each other’s eyes out. But that didn't stop one from sneezing when the other was cold. I don't know if you know what I mean.

I'm trying to understand. 

When one was cold, the other sneezed. This meant that what one of us experienced, the other felt. We had this assurance that, if something happened to me, the other was there with me. This meant we never felt alone. Not only in our country, but even beyond...

For instance, I'll give the example of one woman. Her name is Gisèle Yitamben. I think she's from Cameroon. I met her once. But to this day, at certain moments, I still hear her voice, I feel her presence beside me, I still see her gaze, and that comforts me. And I tell myself that I haven't seen her for at least 30 years. I saw her once, before 1995, so it's been over 30 years. But so far, she's been a comfort to me.

It's a strong bond. 

Yes. For me, sisterhood means I can trust you with my life, and you'll take care of it as if it were your own. That's what sisterhood is all about. It's not just giving me a hug, cheering me on, texting me. I don't know if you understand me. It's knowing that, when I have a problem in Senegal, I can run away and come to Benin, to Chanceline's, and I'll feel at home there, because she'll take care of me like she takes care of herself.

We weren't ashamed to show our weaknesses and flaws to the other sisters we worked with. Because we knew it would never be ridiculed or used against us, but that we would receive the support we needed. But we live in an age with so much individualism, with so many egos... Sometimes I look at some feminists, and I get the impression that they have the feeling that, if the sky fell, they'd only have to lift a finger for it to stop. Lack of humility is a hindrance to sisterhood. Lack of empathy, or the weakness of empathy, is a hindrance to sisterhood.

 I feel what you're saying.

We knew that if one of us fell, it was one less soldier in our army. And that we needed every single person to be well, ready to fight, because that was one of the necessities of our struggle. I'm not afraid to show my flaws within our movement, because I tell myself that's where I can get the help I need. She's the one who thinks more or less like me. She's the one who sees life as I do. She's the one who feels the way I do. So she's the one who can give me the help I need.

How do we build activist spaces that place benevolence and solidarity at their heart, including in conflict management and in mechanisms of responsibility?

We always say “don't throw the bathwater out with the baby”. This means that when one of us says something she shouldn't, it shows that she has a point of weakness on which she needs to be strengthened, to be guided. This doesn't mean that if you tell her "you made a mistake", she'll automatically accept it. But it does mean that this person needs a reference point. Because when we're born, we're born into a patriarchal environment. We receive a patriarchal upbringing. Even I, at my age, in my 69th year, know that I still drag around hints of my patriarchal upbringing that I have to keep working on. Feminist education is lifelong. A feminist who labels another feminist as "not feminist enough", is she herself feminist enough?

Aren't there any points on which she's still dragging on the reminiscences of her patriarchal upbringing? Patriarchal-capitalist? Those who haven't reached the other shore shouldn't laugh at those who are drowning. We have to help her keep her head above water. That's what sisterhood is all about: understanding that, as feminists as we are, all the messages we receive through the media, through our family conversations, through our states, even the subliminal ones, are patriarchal messages. And that we must continue to educate ourselves and each other, constantly, throughout our lives. That's what sisterhood is all about.

Lifelong feminist education.

Yes. Sometimes it shocks me a bit, the violence in spaces with young feminists. The denunciations between feminists, the attacks between feminists... You know, we were from different political parties, but once we got together within the feminist movement, in feminist organizations, you couldn't tell who was from which political party. You couldn't perceive the differences in party affiliation. And even when we blamed each other for things, we did so tactfully. We'd choose the right words to say to a sister: "What you've done isn't right," or "What you've done, I don't agree with”.

And that, for me, is also something important in sisterhood. Because you can't violently attack someone and then want to have a normal relationship with them. We're all human beings. We're all sensitive. I think if there's one thing the young feminist movement should be working on, it's how to reduce this violence within the movement. This violence that makes us almost insensitive to others.

Speaking of which, what's your vision of an intergenerational African feminist movement?

Intergenerationality is a must. In fact, I'm writing an article about it with another feminist. Right now, all eyes are on young feminists. I see a lot of young feminist organizations. But have you seen an organization of older feminists?

Hahaha

Is the feminist movement going to behave like the capitalist movement? In the capitalist movement, as long as you have the force of production, you're in the system. Once you no longer have the force of production, once you no longer serve the system, you're out. Is this how the feminist movement is going to work? 

I draw attention to this because intergenerational work, intergenerational relationships, are of great importance to me. First of all, I need to comfort myself with the idea that things aren't going to end with me and the feminists of my generation. I need reassurance on that point. It's completely emotional, completely psychological. And I assert that emotion. Then there are new issues emerging. Issues that we don't have, but that we see with younger people. And issues that the younger generation may not have experienced, but which can be read in the light of the past.

So how do you think we can build an intergenerational feminist movement? 

We often talk about intergenerational transfer. More and more, I'm talking about exchange. Because it's not only the elders who have something to teach the young, but the young also have something to teach the elders. It's this exchange that creates bonds. So intergenerational, inter-transmission too. Because no matter how old we are, we don't have a monopoly on the truth. Because it's been said that intelligence and knowledge are lost needles. An older woman can pick it up just as a younger woman can. The important thing is to find the needle. And just because you're older and more experienced in the movement doesn't mean you're any more feminist than the young.

The idea of inter-transmission is a fine way of approaching intergenerational movement-building.

I think I have an excellent example here in Senegal. There was a workshop on the Family Code. It was young people who took the initiative when the composition of the current government was published. They had taken the initiative to create a platform, a WhatsApp group. I was told about it. I said, "You've got to get me in there”.

There were other feminists older than me who were added. So everyone is in the group, and everyone gives their opinion. All opinions are treated equally. People agree with this? Let's do it. Agree with this? We do. People disagree with something? We don't do it. There are three generations in this collective. We take part in the meetings, but we don't say: "Oh no, from our experience, this is the way to do it.” No. We listen to each other, give our points of view and make decisions together.

That’s a fine example of intergenerational collaboration. 

I took part in the discussions, but I wasn't present at the workshop because I was on a mission. But I received the photos and, in them, people were seated without distinction of generation. In other words, we didn't put the elders on a separate table. They were seated as participants, period.

For me, intergenerational relations are like peer education. In other words, older people have a lot to learn from younger people, just as younger people also have a lot to contribute and learn from older people. And if we conceive it in this way, regardless of age, even between two elders or between two young people, in the feminist movement, every feminist, whatever her age, whatever her generation, has a lot to contribute and a lot to learn from the other, regardless of age or generation.

How do you live your feminist activism these days?

Over the last few years, my involvement has mainly been with feminist organizations. When I say feminist organizations, I mean cisgender organizations, as well as identity-based organizations. I support them because I feel it's my duty, my responsibility, to ensure that the chain is not broken.

How does it work? 

First of all, I learn a lot from young feminists. The conditions in which I worked are totally different from the conditions in which young people work today. The way of campaigning is different. And I bring my own experience to the table. I also learn a lot from sex worker organizations, LBTQ and so on.

From your experience, what strategy can we use to advance the fight against violence against girls and women on the continent? 

Teaching girls and women how to resist. Men will never give up their power. Where on Earth have you seen a person voluntarily relinquish their power without oppression? Men will never give up their power until they find resistance in front of them. He for She, positive masculinity... Pfff... It's all smoke and mirrors. Girls and women must be taught to resist and fight. Defend, resist, fight. 

And collectively. What is your daily feminist action?

My daily action is to love. To love unconditionally. To love every day. To love, quite simply.

One of the questions we often ask at the end of a conversations is: what's your feminist motto? 

Oh, I confess I've never thought about that. But I do know that what sums up my attitude, my thinking, my way of doing things, my way of living... It's three words: Resist, Fight and Win. And that's it. And that's also LOVE.

Thank you very much. It was a pleasure having this conversation with you.

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"I hope that with the current generation or with the next generations, we will experience a revolutionary revival" - Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 3/4

This is the third part of our conversation with Awa Fall-Diop, Senegalese feminist activist, educator, and specialist in gender justice and social movement building. 

We've learned about her childhood in a working-class neighbourhood in Senegal (Part 1), her involvement in Marxist and pan-Africanist organizations, and her fight for women's equality in education (Part 2). Now, we turn to her analysis of the impact of the Beijing Conference (1995) on African women's rights and the challenges facing feminist movements today. 

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This year, there's a lot of engagement about the 30th anniversary of the Beijing Conference. Were you at the Beijing conference or involved in the conversations when it took place?

The Beijing Conference in 1995 was my generation. I took part in the conversations. The African regional conference on women, preparatory to the Beijing World Conference on Women, was held in Dakar in 1994 and I participated in that.

Did you feel at the time that the specific concerns of African women were being taken into account in the 1995 Beijing conversations?

Yes, for instance, at the African Regional Conference on Women, in preparation for the World Conference on Women in Beijing, we said that we Africans had other concerns than those of European and American women. We said, for example, that the question of girls' education, the status of the girl child, and the question of girls' schooling were a challenge, a matter of development, of rights, and a priority for us. And so, with this battle waged by African women, the issue of the girl child was added to the Beijing Platform for Action. Every time I see the platform and I see this point linked to the girl child, it warms my heart because it's our imprint. It's the imprint of our struggle as African women.

Thirty years on, do you think things have changed? 

I believe they have. But not enough. Too slowly. Since Beijing, other texts, tools, and legal instruments have been adopted at the regional level in Africa. But why are the same demands still being made? How can it be that the same forms of violence and denial of rights are still taking place throughout the world? What have States and institutions done with these resolutions and declarations? How is it that the demands we were making thirty years ago are the same ones you're still making in your thirties? To me, things have evolved too little. Things have evolved too slowly concerning the promises made by international institutions, and too little concerning the promises made by the African Union, ECOWAS, and our various countries.

Feminists say that the Beijing Conference and subsequent processes have become institutionalized and reformist, even co-opted by neoliberalism and Western agendas. What's your take on this?

Let’s be honest. We live in neoliberal times. International institutions come from neoliberalism. We haven't had a revolution. We're not living in a revolutionary situation. So, we're trying to move within a neoliberal straitjacket. And that's something we need to be aware of. There have been revolutionary initiatives in the past. But our time, the historical time in which we live, is the triumph of capitalism in its neoliberal phase over socialism and communism. We are living and working in a neoliberal capitalist context, which is certainly in turmoil and deep crisis, but which has yet to be confronted by a social alternative of change and progress, a revolutionary alternative.

I hope that with the current generation or with the next generations, we will experience a revolutionary revival. I hope so and wish so because this can bring us closer to states and institutions with a human vocation and characteristics.

This is an informed analysis of the current situation!

The United Nations, as long as it is in this format, can only be made of neoliberal institutions because they were born in a context - and are the result - of processes stemming from neoliberalism. And we need to understand this objectively. Otherwise, we're going to lead fights thinking we're fundamentally changing things, but we're not.

What we're currently doing in the feminist movement is reformism. Sure, we're challenging patriarchal structures, but to what extent are we challenging them? We're still reformists. And that's something we're going to have to acknowledge if we're to enter a new revolutionary era. Personally, I don't yet sense the theoretical, practical, or organizational beginnings of a revival, of a challenge to capitalism and neoliberalism. 

Do you think there are key political issues that African feminism isn't addressing that we should be paying attention to or focusing on more?

Yes, the issue of neo-colonialism. I think that, until now, our analyses have focused on women, forgetting that, however much we may be women, we live in a social, political, and economic context and that we live in countries that have not yet reached their economic and political autonomy. What's happening in the Sahel region, with the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), precisely shows that in our analyses, there are political aspects that we don't sufficiently take into account.

Another example is what's happening today in South Africa with the land question, issues that should be linked to our analyses. Today, in this policy of land consolidation and redistribution, to what extent are the needs and concerns of Black South African women taken into account? 

Not to mention what's happening in Sudan. 

Yes, we need to broaden the political scope of our demands, linking them to issues much broader than the immediate condition of women. We need to take an interest in any situation or law that impacts our lives.

Even relations between the North and the South, relations between Senegal and France, and relations between the DRC and Belgium, when we analyse them, are issues that should interest us as feminists. Because there are still repercussions if we analyse what's happening in the DRC right now. These are still recollections of neo-colonial relations, of the colonial period. How do we analyse these facts? We need to take an even greater interest. And we don't do it enough. We need political education on these issues, because many feminists don't understand the specificities of the times we live in. 

How do we push this political education within our movements? One argument I often hear when these issues are raised is, "We already have enough problems in our own contexts."

All these questions are interrelated. It's like saying your whole body is dirty, but you’d rather wash your feet and hands, your head and neck, because that's what's most visible to people. Others will say: no, the most important thing is to keep your sexual parts clean, because that's what counts most. No. You can't dismember women's lives; it's not possible. Maybe we can have a focus, but we can't ignore the fact that there's an interrelationship between all aspects of our lives, whether cultural, political, social, economic, religious, etc. There's an interconnection. I'm sure that if we pushed the political question, we'd see that within our movement, we still have cracks in our political awareness. If we didn't ask ourselves the question, we wouldn't know. 

Do you think this affects our movements?

I tell myself that so far, we're winning on one side, but all the while, there's another side that we don't consider to be urgent yet. And when we win on the right, we realize that the left side is gangrenous. We tell ourselves that we must stick to the left side, and we forget about the right. And before we've even finished the left side, the gangrene has spread to the right. I give the example of what is currently happening in Senegal with the Family Code. The Family Code was adopted in 1972, a consensual code, albeit based for the most part on the Islamic religion, but which at least allowed progress in terms of conjugal rights for women.

What happened next?

Once the code was passed, we put it aside. From time to time, we'd talk about it, but we felt that there were more urgent matters, such as gender-based violence and rape, which are essential issues that we need to address. But in the meantime, we forgot about the Family Code. Muslim religious organizations, on the other hand, have continued to work on this code. Recently, they organized a major demonstration for a revision of the Family Code based entirely on Sharia law. Everyone was scared. There was an uproar. We made financial contributions and organized a workshop to define our own proposals. But the others had beaten us to it. And now we're trying to catch up. This means that our ability to anticipate is something we need to work on. 

There's this idea that we're always reacting instead of organising deep resistance. 

What enables us to have this capacity for anticipation is precisely understanding the global movement in which we find ourselves, and every aspect of which has an impact. For example, I wouldn't deny it if someone said there was a link between the election of Donald Trump and the vitality of Muslim religious organizations in Senegal. I wouldn't say there's no link. Because we know where Donald Trump stands on the issue of abortion, on the issue of gender, on the issue of identities and sexual orientation, on the issue of marriage, on the issue of the family.

And I'm sure that - well, it's not just in Senegal - that if we interviewed other feminists across other countries, we'd realise that the fact that Donald Trump is in power is having an impact on organizations that generally weren't as active but now feel truly reinvigorated.

His election and his comments about people of diverse genders have raised a wave of homophobia and transphobia in our region and online.

And so, in the spirit of anticipation, we can tell ourselves: with Donald Trump in power in the United States, what repercussions could this have in our lives, in our organizations? The damaging capacity of anti-rights and anti-gender organizations is their ability to anticipate. On our side, the weakness is our blindness to global issues and their repercussions in our own lives. 

Sometimes things happen, initiatives exist, but we don't know. Do you think the lack of connection between the different parts of the movement creates this?

Precisely. Since we don't know what's being done elsewhere, we get the impression that nothing is happening. You're right to bring that up. We need to talk to each other more, communicate more, and have a platform for conversations. We need to map out our interventions. At least to be able to identify areas, claims, and strategies deployed by others. Everything we do has to consider the connections between different aspects that are happening even outside our country. And, of course, within the limits of our capabilities, given the limited resources at our disposal.

The question of resources has a major influence on what we do and what we can do.

Exactly. Somewhere along the line, the responsibility of the funders is involved. Our organizations are so deprived, so precarious, that we don't have the strength to resist a funding proposal. As soon as we know that funding is available in a certain area, we sometimes even try to reformulate certain elements of our strategic plans, what word to add, what qualifier to change so that our mission and objectives fit in with this or that funder. And this is precisely due to the weakness, the financial precariousness in which we live as organizations, as activists, unfortunately.

In any case, I wouldn't criticise anyone or any organization for having this attitude. But we must realise that it weakens the impact of our actions and that it would be interesting to develop our capacity for political analysis. Because if we don't, we’ll never come to grips with the issue but keep on searching for its trail.

In the fourth and final part, Awa Fall-Diop shares her thoughts on topics such as the plurality of African feminisms, sisterhood and the importance of intergenerational relations in activism. Read more here. 

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“As long as there is oppression of any kind, there is a need for feminist movements.” - Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 2/4

We continue our interview with Awa Fall-Diop, Senegalese feminist activist, educator and specialist in issues of gender justice and social movement building. In the first part of this conversation, she shared with Chanceline Mevowanou the defining moments of her childhood. 

In this second part, we explore the beginnings of her commitment, the construction of her feminist convictions and her fight for equality in education.

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To introduce yourself, you said, “I am a pan-African feminist, a revolutionary activist for the liberation of Africa, the liberation of the human race, and the liberation of all women. ” How did your political convictions come about?

I think I was brought up to be a feminist from birth. In my family, when we praise women, we only praise what they've accomplished. I know the women in my lineage back through 20 generations. These are women who didn't let themselves be pushed around, even though they were not at the same level of political awareness as I am. I was born into a lineage of women who don't let themselves be pushed around. I'm not saying that “being born into that” is enough to absorb that education because there are other people in the same family who don't share my opinions. Perhaps what converted the feminist attitude into a feminist consciousness in me was my enlistment in Marxist, Leninist, Maoist organizations. I think that allowed me to structure my temperament and my upbringing into a political vision. 

How did you join these organizations? 

It was at the time of the single-party system in Senegal. The creation of other political parties was forbidden. These organizations came to raise awareness and used theatre as a tool. We used to perform theatre in my neighbourhood. What was being said resonated with me. What they were calling for corresponded to what was inside me. It resonated with me. That's how I got involved.

Do you remember the first organization you joined?

Yes. And its name meant “Act together”.

How has your involvement in these organizations helped to shape your feminist and political vision?

These organizations had training sessions on Marxism, class struggle, Pan-Africanism, Kwame Nkrumah, Amilcar Cabral, and Julius Nyerere. So, in this training course, we inevitably talked about oppression. It was easy to see the oppression of women by men, even within the organization. We began challenging them on certain practices that were far from being Marxist and, therefore, far from liberating. We were told that we had to work for the revolution first and that it was the revolution that would solve the problems of the people and the problems of women. We refused. We said there were issues that we had to solve here and now. We were not going to suffer while we waited for the revolution. We wanted to sort out the relationship between male and female activists within the organization. 

What you say is still relevant today. Many young feminists find it difficult to engage and collaborate with certain organizations that claim to be pan-Africanist because their vision of the continent's liberation does not include the concerns of women and other marginalized groups.

These organizations, which call themselves pan-Africanists with such a vision of African liberation, have certainly not read Samora Machel, Amilcar Cabral, or Thomas Sankara, who spoke specifically of women's liberation. We actually need to address some issues, such as the ones women and other marginalized groups face, to speed up the revolution.

What does feminism mean to you? 

For me, feminism is a political vision, a political commitment to fight against all forms of oppression between men and women, between women, and between countries and continents. As long as there is oppression of any kind, there is a need for feminist movements. 

You say, "It's a political vision, a political commitment." Could you explain what you mean?

Yes. Political is different from partisan. People often confuse the two. Partisan indicates which side you're on. For example, Chanceline, are you in the Republican Party to save Benin? Are you in the Democratic Party? That's being partisan. To be political is to have a global conception of the world, of how the world should be organized, how it should function. What is the place of each element, of each entity, not only human beings, but also animals, trees, flowers, seas, rivers, soil, sky, earth, air. That's what it means to have a political vision.

You've also defined yourself as a "revolutionary activist". What does this mean to you?

I'm a revolutionary activist because I'm convinced that change is the most enduring thing in the world. For example, since this morning, we've been calling you Chanceline. But the Chanceline who entered this room at 8 a.m. is not the same as the Chanceline who is sitting here right now. Are you aware of that? 

I know what you mean. 

Whether it's human beings or things, everything changes. Being revolutionary means accepting this principle. Not only accepting it, but also trying to provoke it, where there is resistance, where there are attempts at conservation. You know, even in the ecological movement, I'm against nature conservation movements. You can't conserve nature; you preserve it. Because nature carries change within itself. So, to be revolutionary is to be against any form of conservation, any conservative ideology, any conservative movement. It means being aware that change is inevitable. 

What actions did you get involved in, at the start of your feminist commitment?

We've done a lot of awareness-raising to change perceptions on various subjects: rights, equality, dowry, excision, and girls' schooling. I even remember that we were doing one of these awareness-raising sessions once, and the police came and picked us up, telling us it was forbidden. I've done a lot of work on these subjects through shows, public appearances, and speaking engagements. And petitions, too. I remember there was a time when a working woman couldn't pay for her child's medical expenses. Her male colleague with the same job and the same pay grade could pay for his child through the social security system, though. Other friends and I started a petition called "We are mothers, we are workers". It was based on this petition that the trade unions took up this demand. 

Trade unions in which fields?

Teachers' unions. I was a teacher. I taught French in elementary school. As we had friends in the regions, we circulated the petition throughout the country and got a huge number of signatures. Each of us pushed at their own union level to get the unions to take collective responsibility for this demand.

Have your feminist convictions influenced the way you taught at school?

Absolutely. To the point of creating an organization called ORGENS, Observatoire des Relations de Genre dans l'Éducation Nationale au Sénégal (English: Observatory of Gender Relations in the Ministry of Education in Senegal). As a teacher, I looked at the textbooks and saw that all the women in them were either sweeping, cooking, carrying a child, dancing, braiding, or styling their hair. The men in the books, on the other hand, were principals or had other jobs. One day, I took the manual and went to the Ministry. At the time, André Sonko was Minister of Education. I told his secretary: "I'd like to meet the Minister.” She said, "Do you have an appointment?" I replied, "No, I don't, but I must meet the Minister."

You were driven in your approach

The minister was coming out of his office. I said, "Minister, I need to see you." He replied, "About what?" I started talking, and he told his secretary, "Give her an appointment." On the day of the appointment, I came and explained my concern. I told him: "Mr. Minister, in the textbooks, there are 20% women, whereas they make up at least 50% of the population. In our country, there are female teachers in schools, but in the books, only men are represented in these positions. The books don't even feature a female teacher. In our country, there are midwives, female doctors, and female lawyers. But that's not shown in the books...".

I continued: "How do you expect the girls of our country to be able to project themselves into a future where they are something other than nannies, sweepers, housewives? How do you expect the school enrolment rate to increase if girls don't see themselves in a future where they occupy other positions of paid responsibility? How do you expect parents who look at these textbooks to change their view of girls?" He set up another meeting with the Department heads. And I came back. 

That’s impressive.

I came back. When I came in, a manager said to me: "Miss, you've made a mistake. What meeting are you going to?" (Laughter) I replied, "I'm going to the meeting with the Minister of Education." He said, "Really? With the Minister of Education?" I said, "Yes."

Sexism...

Yes. Then the minister arrived, and I explained. I was told, "Yes, we've taken note... But the books, the cost has to be paid off first, before we can change them." Later, the textbooks were changed. Some girls were looking through a magnifying glass, scanning the sky. Others had a globe.

Bravo for this initiative. What other actions has Observatoire des Relations de Genre dans l'Éducation Nationale taken in Senegal? 

We have developed training modules for teaching staff on introducing gender equality into teaching-learning situations. And we have trained quite a few of them. Today, if gender is introduced into textbooks and learning environments, it's thanks to this association. Once that was done, we said to ourselves that our mission was accomplished, because we aimed to institutionalise gender in the education system.

I saw that your experience with the Observatoire des Relations de Genre dans l'Éducation Nationale in Senegal was highlighted on your profile as an Ashoka Changemaker Innovator.

Yes, our concept was simple: If you want to change a society, this change must happen where the society is created. And you create society in the family, at school. Many teachers said after the training that they didn't realise what was happening because nobody had opened their eyes to it. You see, that's why you should never have the prejudice that it's not going to work. Some people behave in certain ways because they don't know any better. But once they do, they're able to change their behaviour.

What is your fondest memory as a teacher?

As a teacher, my fondest memory is finding one of my pupils in one of the biggest banks in Senegal. Now, this is the capitalist system, of course, and I'm fiercely opposed to the capitalist system because it is oppressive. But as a teacher, I was very pleased to see that she managed to rise to the top. Another time, we were at a political protest, and I saw two of my students who were reporters. Things like that give me great pleasure.

How did your feminist commitment evolve?

I'll have to think about it. The truth is, I've often let myself go with the flow. In other words, I go somewhere and see that people are making demands, and I come along and join the fight. And as time goes by, I find myself at the forefront of the fight. That's how my activism developed. I never thought specifically about how to develop my activism.

In the third part of the interview, Awa Fall-Diop shares her analysis of the impact of the Beijing Conference (1995) on African women's rights and the persistent challenges facing feminist movements today. Click here to read part three.

Join the conversation

We’d love to hear your thoughts on this first part. Let us know in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.

“When I think of myself, I see a free Awa.”- Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 1/4

Awa Fall-Diop is a Senegalese feminist activist, educator, and specialist in gender justice and building social movements. Her attachment to the values of justice, resistance, and conviviality was shaped by her upbringing in a working-class community and is now reflected in her activism.

In this interview, Chanceline Mevowanou speaks with Awa Fall-Diop about her activism and her feminist journey. 

In this first part of the conversation, we will learn about her childhood, as well as the story of her mother, a woman from whom she takes her strength of character. Awa Fall-Diop also tells us how her upbringing and her activism within Marxist and PanAfrican organizations helped shape her political thinking and build her feminist beliefs. She also discusses her fight for equality for women in education and training (Part 2). In the third part of our conversation, she shares her thoughts on the impact that the Beijing Conference has had on African women’s rights and on the challenges that feminist movements face today. Finally, we discuss topics such as the diversity of African feminisms, sorority, and the importance of intergenerational relationships in activism (Part 4).

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Good evening, Maman Awa. I hope you are well.

I’m doing great.

Could you please introduce yourself to our community?

My name is Awa Fall-Diop. I am a pan-African feminist, a revolutionary activist for the liberation of Africa, the liberation of the human race, and the liberation of all women. 

Thank you for agreeing to chat with me. I’m curious to know what shaped your journey. Where did you grow up?

I was born and raised in a well-known working class community of Senegal called Grand Dakar. In Senegal, saying “I’m from Grand Dakar” is enough to indicate that a person has experienced things, has a temperament, and doesn't tolerate any form of oppression or subordination. This is our neighbourhood’s trademark. 

It’s a neighbourhood built by our parents since the colonial era, where I grew up and where I remember that every family was mine. I could eat with any family, if I didn’t like what we had at home. I could walk past a neighbour’s house, smell a dish that I found appealing and go in to eat, no questions asked. If I were in a backyard talking to other people and it was getting late, I was allowed to safely stay over and sleep in the house.

What you’re describing is wonderful. What memories come to mind when you reflect on your childhood in Grand Dakar? 

This solidarity and conviviality between the families is something that always stayed with me. I believe it is also one of the foundations that make me feel comfortable in movements. Thanks to the way the neighbourhood was set up, it was easy to go from one house to another without ever getting into the street. There were passageways between every house. Sadly, it’s no longer the case today because of urban violence, burglaries etc. Now, everyone shelters themselves in their homes. That’s a shame, because it hinders human relationships and solidarity.

Where did the conviviality in your neighbourhood come from back then?

It was in the way the neighbourhood itself was created. Most of our parents were the first people to live there. They were young couples of originating from farming communities, who came to work in the city as labourers. There was a similarity in generation, origin and social status among them. As a result, the children of one family were like those of another. And it lasted. People like me still reside in the neighbourhood… Many folks were born in Grand Dakar and still live there. We even got married to one other. (She laughs).

It must have been an amazing experience to grow up there.

At some point we planned a huge reunion with the natives who are still alive. Those whose parents had to sell their houses or who lived in other areas also joined us. It was a wonderful gathering where we reminisced about our childhood and shared stories. We were all together again and vowed to do it every year, because the way we lived there is truly the area’s trademark.

This reunion must have been moving. You said that a person coming from this area was perceived as someone who rejected all kinds of oppression. 

Yes, as someone who is driven.

Could you explain?

It may be because of our parents’ backgrounds; they left the rural world and wanted to succeed in the city. They did not only want to shape their destiny for themselves; they also wanted to shape their children’s destinies. That means educating the kids, setting them up in an environment that allows them to be people who know how to defend themselves, who know what they want, people who are driven. That requires a lot of determination.

Are there specific stories from your childhood in Grand Dakar that come to mind?

I remember two stories. Someone had rented out a room in the neighbourhood. He was a teacher and I was in the second grade, so I must have been 9 or 10 years old. A friend of mine lived in the house where he rented the room. Sometimes when we were passing by - we were a group of girls - he would call us and give us some money, 5 or 10 francs. Back then, 10 francs was a lot of money. Or he would give us candy. We would clean his room or clean his glasses. One time, I was passing by and I was by myself. He called me and said, “Clean my glasses.” I cleaned them and then he asked : “Are you menstruating?”* I immediately replied “Yes” and I left in a hurry. I went home and took my schoolbag to get my rulers. *(In French menstruating and rulers are the same word : règles)

My older sister was sitting nearby and she asked me “Why are you so frantic? What are you looking for?”  I replied, “I’m looking for my rulers.” She said, “Why are you looking for them? I don’t see you studying.” Then I answered, “No, someone asked me if I had my règles.” My sister stormed off. I saw her leave, and she went out to hit the man. I was mad at her.

Why were you mad ?

I was angry with my sister because I thought : “She’ll deprive me of candy. She’ll deprive me of the 5-10 francs I'm given all the time.” She said to me, “I don’t want to see you go to his room ever again.” The next day when we woke up, the man had moved. I blamed my sister. It’s only years later that I understood what had happened. This man wanted to know if I was pubescent. You see, when we talk about gender-based violence, sexual abuse and rape of little girls, it’s real. And this reality is not new.

Unfortunately, it is still a reality in our communities. What is your second story?

This one impacted me positively haha! One night, we organized a party. The boys, without telling us, had rented a room next to the venue. During the evening, from time to time, one of them would leave with his girlfriend to go into the room. If you didn’t go into the room, you wouldn't know it existed. But I'd noticed that when a couple went out, it wouldn't even be five minutes before they came back. I couldn't understand why. When it was my turn, my boyfriend said, “Come on, let’s go somewhere to spend some time alone.” As soon as we turned into the street, we ran into the grown-ups who were there and they said, “Hey, go back to the party.” That's how I understood why every couple who went out came back in less than five minutes.

Hahaha… Speaking of grown-ups, what was your relationship with your parents when you were a girl?

I had a strained relationship with my mother until I turned 22 years old. Because I do whatever I want. When I think of myself, I see a free Awa.  I was free. Unrestrained in my words, free in my actions, free in my movement. I didn’t like being prevented from doing what I wanted. Thankfully, I’m a fairly reasonable person.

Is that what caused friction in your relationship with your mother?

Yes. My mother was an extraordinarily strong woman. Allow me to go off topic for a moment, I’m going to share a part of my mother’s story.

Please do.

This is mainly about two years of her life. My mom was a Lébou. The Lébous are a community of fishermen in Senegal. They’re an inbred community, so my mom first married one of her cousins. She was the one who told me the story. She stayed married for eleven years and never missed a period. They lived in big compounds, so her husband’s brothers lived there with their wives and kids, too. At parties, the other husbands would buy several loincloths for their spouses. My mother would only get one. She was told, “Since there’s no one around to dirty your clothes, one loincloth is enough.” In the house, when she would call a kid to send them to the store, they would tell her: “If you want to send a child to the store, you should have one of your own.” Do you see this violence? When we talk about domestic violence, it’s not limited to assault and battery. It’s not only financial. The violence can also be psychological or emotional. She went through that for years, and then one night, she was grinding millet… You know, when you do that, you get blisters.

Yes, they form on the hands.

Exactly! She had blisters. At some point she stopped and wondered: “Who am I grinding for? No one gets my clothes dirty (meaning that no child urinated on her). Who am I grinding for?”. She put the pestle down, went to her hut, packed her belongings and went back to her parents’ home. And she was done with that marriage!

Two years later, she was on the train and she met my father. The train was crowded and a man (my dad) gave her his seat. That’s how they met and how their story began. Then my mother had her first pregnancy. She didn’t know she was expecting because she thought she was infertile. So she drank herbal concoctions, etc. When her first pregnancy was confirmed, her first husband came back. He came back to say it was his child because some children hide in the ribs for years before they’re born. They even went to court. My dad died later on. His brothers came and told my mother: “You’re a woman, you cannot run the household. So you need to sell the house and go back to your parents’.”

It’s sad that this still happens today. Many women are seen as incapable or unlawful, while they are the core of our families.

My mother refused. She told them: “The house I shared with my husband until he passed, is the house I’ll live in until I die.” They replied: “If you stay here, we won’t come to give you anything, not even a grain of rice. ”My mom said: “One day, I’ll be the one to bring bags of rice to your homes.” And that’s what happened. Later on, each time my uncles had challenges, she was the one who fought to fix their kids’ food, education and health issues and so on.

I understand why you said that your mother was exceptionally strong. How old were you when your father passed away?

I was 6 months old and my mom was 32 or 33. At the time, in 1956, she was young and there was no female head of household. In our neighbourhood, she was the first woman to be a head of household. She was this woman with a strong personality, who maybe raised me to be like her, and inevitably two strong personalities clash. Our relationship became more peaceful when I turned 21 or 22. That’s when we became confidants. 

How did it go ? 

She would always wait for me to be present to talk about serious topics. My older siblings complained. Before passing away, I’m the one she called to tell me : “Awa, I entrust you with the family.” Maybe because I’m the one who inherited her personality and her character the most.

Could you share some of the significant conversations you had with your mother?

We talked about many things, including sexuality. For instance, my firstborn is a daughter. She would tell me : “You have to massage her clitoris. If you don’t, she won’t be a real woman later.” You see? Or she would say : “You know, sexual intercourse isn’t penetration only. You can play.”

That’s so different from the narrative of these issues being taboo in African families. Do you think this open-mindedness influenced other areas of your life?

I believe that she passed that on to me as well. I have no taboos. I talk about sex, pleasure and life because it is a part of life. There’s no aspect of life that I do not talk about with complete peace of mind and serenity.

That’s inspiring. What was the socio-political climate for girls when you were growing up?

Girls’ access to education was not as important as it is now. The realisation of the necessity of educating girls was not as significant as it is today. However, my mother, who was illiterate, thought that every child had to go to school. Do you want to know why I know French so well?

Tell me

During the holidays, my mother would buy a dictionary and give it to me. I had to recite it.

Laughter…

I knew the dictionary by heart, le Petit Larousse. Her logic was simple: if you want to know Islam, you learn about it in the Quran. If you want to learn French, you learn it with the dictionary. And you couldn’t play until you recited your page.

In the second part, we'll talk about the construction of Awa Fall-Diop’s political and feminist convictions, shaped by her upbringing, her involvement in Marxist and pan-Africanist organizations, and her fight for women's equality in education. Click here to read the next part.

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We’d love to hear your thoughts on this first part. Let us know in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.

“You have to make sure that your own merits prevail over other people’s opinion” - Salamatou Traoré (Niger) - 4/4

In this fourth and last part of our discussion with Mrs. SalamatouTraoré, she reflects on feminism several years after she participated in the 1995 Beijing Conference. Previously, we have learnt about her life (Part 1), her work in public health (Part 2), the work being done at her Dimol Centre (Part 3).

Thank you for telling us about the DIMOL Centre, your NGO. Now, let’s talk about you. When we hear about Nigerien women, they’re often described as submissive, silent, weak…You are the complete opposite. When we first meet you, it’s obvious that you do not mince words and speak your mind. 

I do not! (She laughs)

However, I can imagine that it’s not always easy to constantly stand out. How do you feel about this?

Everything starts with my family. I’ve always had an open dialogue with my family when raising my children and even my grandchildren now. You must be honest, don’t beat around the bush. Nowadays, you can’t raise a child by hiding things from them. I openly talk about taboo issues within the family.

Could you give me an example?

Of course. One of my sons, I can’t remember how old he was, was eating when he asked my sister a question. He said: “Auntie, how do you make a person?” And my sister replied: “You take some sand; you add some blood, and you mix it.” But I said: “This is not how. Tell him the truth. It’s a mom and dad who make the baby. This is how you make a person. You see, I’m your mommy and this is your daddy, and we brought you to this world. I’ll tell you the rest later.” He’s a doctor so now he understands. (She laughs)

How does that work outside of the family circle? 

Even within the family circle, it is not always that easy. Let me give you an example. My son became involved in politics but he did not want me to know because he didn’t want me to share my opinion on the matter. As a result, when you’re the one in your family who sees things clearly, sometimes others don’t support you. “What she says is true, but it’s shocking.” “Be careful, he’s in politics”.

That’s how they deal with me. That’s what I’m told; that I’m not diplomatic. I speak my mind and sometimes it’s shocking. Maybe some things, when you say them openly, have to remain unsaid, or you have to find words that are easier to hear. Some people have to think about their sentences before they say them; I speak spontaneously.

Is there a woman in your life that inspired you to live the way you do? 

My mom. She’s very lively. She’s a great woman. She raised and defended many children, including some who weren’t her own. She wasn’t in the kitchen. No. And when she would say something, my dad would do it. She never broke down, even for the education of the children. At home, my mom was in charge and she never had any problems.

Some people have to think about their sentences before they say them; I speak spontaneously.

When you think about it, what did you learn from your mother that allows you to carry this commitment to this day? 

Her patience. She inherited it from her mother, my grandmother. We call her Aya. She was purely from the rural world and she was nicknamed "mouregn", which means "to ignore, you have to trivialise" in a way. That's what it means in our language. When, for example, you come to confide in her, she will always tell you: “be patient. You need to be patient”. She always says that. When you come to her with a material issue or needs, even if she doesn't have any, she says: "Go ahead, I'll send you this.” One day, my dad wanted to take her back to Niamey. She said, "No. The people who are there are my children too, how can I abandon them? They'll say I put my own family ahead of the others." That's something she did that I admired.

So, she was truly committed to the community. 

Oh my! She did more than that! All the children in her house are her grandchildren; they’re all her own. One day, I came and I oversaw the finances. So every three or four months, we had to go and get the food. I went to find her and I said: "Aya, can you give each child back to their parents? You see, I have no more funds for these children and none of the parents are meeting their needs." She smiled and said nothing to me. I continued to do what I could. 

Much later, when I had grandchildren of my own, I went back to her about it. I said, "I'm here because I owe you an apology. One day I asked you to send all those children away, that everyone should just take responsibility. I didn't know that having a grandson was that nice." She laughed and said, "You get it now." (She laughs) The old ladies, they're very lively.

Speaking of inspiration, you are from the generation of feminists who attended the fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing, in 1995. Was that important to you? 

Yes, I went to Beijing. I wanted to go but it was difficult to find the funds to go there. I decided to go to the conference even if it meant I had to pay for it myself. I first went from Niamey to Addis, then another Guinean woman helped me and gave me an extra ticket to go from Addis to Beijing. I arrived in Beijing, and I was reimbursed after I came back. I truly wanted to be there.

Beijing happened over 25 years ago. In your opinion, how has the condition of Nigerien women evolved in this period?

There’s been a change in the rural world. We have homes and women’s centres. Some women have farms and vegetable gardens. Women's leadership in rural areas has also progressed. I know that I have seen cases of women who have defended themselves to safeguard their land concerning inheritance. So there has been some progress on the mentality level. There is more openness. There has also been a strong evolution when it comes to loans in villages. The State has taken charge of grain mills to relieve these women of the hardship they face. There has also been a change in the schooling of young girls. Now in urban areas, girls have access to higher education.

Niger is described as a country where it’s difficult to be a vector of change because there’s a certain burden and some issues are taboos. What has evolved well and what has not?

Even though it is said that Niger is last...in my opinion, no. I would say that it is in terms of the poverty index that we can say that, but if we go deeper, we will still find indicators that allow us to say that Niger has evolved. We have evolved. Even if we say that Niger is last in terms of politics and development, there are still development indexes that put us in a position of affluence. We also have, still in urban areas, women who stay in the background because there are men who put pressure on them. Even in rural areas, women do not have access to all the information or the right to go to health facilities if they are not authorised. This is a barrier to development.

When our generation thinks about Beijing, we are inspired and very grateful. You paved a part of the path on which we’re walking today. However, we realise that our elders don’t see themselves as feminists… What’s your relationship with this word? Do you consider yourself a feminist? 

Yes and no, because it is the others who must evaluate my actions and decide if I am feminist or not. For me, being a feminist means defending women's rights, their freedom, and everything that is in favour of their promotion. From this point of view, I am a feminist.

I think that feminism, beyond our organisational commitments, is also something that we must embody in our daily lives, especially in the way we manage our relationships with our loved ones. How do you manage to do it?

How to embody it? Sometimes you must ignore the observations of others. You must make your own merits override the opinions of others. 

It seems that people refuse to understand. It's not that they don't understand; they refuse to accept this change. That's what's shocking. Men are aware of women’s rights but sometimes choose to hinder the proper enjoyment of these rights. Yet, if they accepted the change, who would benefit? Not just the woman; it would be a positive result for the future development of their offspring.

So, we must ignore everything that people think. If you have to keep fighting, defending, reprimanding, guiding, advising and everything, and you’re talking to someone who is not on the same page as you…it is disheartening.

Men are aware of women’s rights but sometimes choose to hinder the proper enjoyment of these rights.

You’re from the Beijing generation. When you think about the Beijing+25 generation, what piece of advice would you give them?

Think more about the collective and less about the individual. I find that now, this rising generation here in Niger is a generation that fights for individual interests. We feel that the struggle is individual, not collective. In an NGO, we often see a person say, "I’m the one who did it" instead of "it was the organisation that did it". That's not good. There is no collaboration.

But there are new up-and-coming organisations that I like. The previous generation had an easier time working with technical and financial partners than today. Funding is scarce, you have more difficulties, it is not the same thing. Nevertheless, with the little funding you have, you will have to coordinate with the so-called Beijing generation.

My last question is one that I ask all my guests: is there a sentence, a quote, or a feminist motto that you apply to your life? 

No woman should give her life by giving life. This is my motto. Today many women in Niger give their lives. But I sincerely want the well-being of women and to see women always smiling.

Absolutely. Thank you so much, Mrs. Traoré. It was truly an amazing conversation. 

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Click here to learn more about the work of the DIMOL Centre and how you can support them

“They come in as victims and leave as leaders” - Salamatou Traoré (Niger) - 3/4

Our conversation with Mrs Salamatou Traoré continues and gets even more interesting with each new part. We have discussed what inspired her choice to build a career in healthcare (Part 1),and her experience in public health (Part 2)

You just told me that you founded your NGO. Let’s start with its name, “DIMOL”. What does it mean? 

“DIMOL” means “dignity” in Fulani. I founded the DIMOL Centre because of the fistula issue that is still ongoing.

Please tell me more about the DIMOL Centre and your work there with women diagnosed with obstetric fistula? 

The women we accommodate come to the Centre in bad shape because of fistula. First, their wrappers are always wet with urine. They are stressed and embarrassed. As soon as they arrive, they’re given two pairs of underpants and two bars of soap per week. They get to clean themselves. When we see the women again the next day, there’s neither the smell nor the stress. We don’t see them constantly touching their clothes to make sure they’re not wet. 

Then, the Centre’s midwife does the examination and determines if a woman has a case of fistula or not. The registration period is important for collecting quantitative data. If the patient does indeed have a fistula, the midwife refers her to the surgery center for another examination and a follow-up on her case, to know if it requires surgery or checkups.

While the woman is being observed and even during her recovery after the operation, she stays with us at the Centre. This waiting period is used to help the woman understand the causes and consequences of her illness. We teach her environmental hygiene, the importance of not defecating out in the open, the importance of going to school, and the use of contraceptives. All of this is preventive work, to avoid future infections.

Most importantly, we explain to the women the reasons that brought them here. Now, from that moment on, patients understand better that it is not a curse. 

Oh I see, some of them think that it’s a curse?

Yes indeed. Many think that they’ve been cursed. At DIMOL, they learn that the fistula is due to delayed treatment of their health condition: not going to prenatal examination, not giving birth in sanitary health facilities. So, once they understand, it becomes a repetitive process. We repeat the same topics each week:  environmental hygiene, sanitation, education for girls, family planning, and so on. We spend all our time explaining to them but when they become aware of what has happened and are more receptive, we take action.

And what is the “action” phase?

The women usually spend between three and six months with us. They have their first surgery after three months. Then, after the surgery, we give them appointments and they go back and forth between the DIMOL Centre and the hospital until they fully recover. Some of them have had up to five surgeries. 

Meanwhile, at DIMOL, they acquire skills in sewing, embroidery, basketry, knitting, weaving…whatever they can learn. The patient chooses what she wants to learn. Once she is healed, we reinforce the training on the skill chosen by the patient. If she has chosen sewing, we focus on that. If we see that she has not mastered cutting, or if she has not mastered certain patterns, we strengthen the training.

At DIMOL, the women acquire skills in sewing, embroidery, basketry, knitting, weaving…whatever they can learn.

And she goes back home with the possibility of teaching a skill? That’s amazing!

Once she is ready to return to the village, she is given the task of teaching her fellow women in the village the skill she learned at the DIMOL Centre. She will also conduct awareness-raising activities for her colleagues, guiding women to health services if they have problems. She can look for cases of fistula in the village, by word of mouth, to tell them that fistula is curable. 

She is given money to start cultivating the skill in her home. She can buy the materials she needs for the skill as well as for her fistula awareness sessions: a bench, a table, everything she needs. It helps people take what she is doing seriously. 

By word of mouth, former patients raise awareness. They also refer or accompany women who need access to fistula care. They become ambassadors for the DIMOL Centre, and they sometimes bring in new patients. There are even former patients who have become health care workers. 

And the cycle goes on. Actually, it’s a virtuous one. Is there a woman whose journey made a lasting impression on you? I’m sure there are many.

We have Oumou, who has already brought us 14 new patients. She just brought two new women yesterday. Oumou spends all her time on market days raising awareness and asking questions: "Do you have cases of fistula in your home? Women who smell of urine? If you do, I have someone who treats it for free”. And she gets the message across. 

During her time here, Oumou chose to learn sewing. She received reintegration funds, and a machine. She taught her husband how to sew, and he taught others as well. 

What’s interesting about the DIMOL Centre’s model is that women come in almost as victims, and they leave as game-changers. They are empowered personally but also make a change in the community. It’s very transformative. 

Patients enter the DIMOL Centre as victims and leave as leaders. Sometimes their families don’t even recognise them anymore because they have changed so much. When a patient returns to the village, she is healed, clean, and well-dressed, with knowledge that others do not have, and with funds and materials or livestock that others do not have.

She is accompanied by members of the DIMOL Center who explain that she is cured and that they must accept her and stop stigmatising her. They explain in front of everyone that the money and materials she has are for cultivating her skill, and to finance future cesarean sections or other operations, so they should not be taken from her.

And the women usually do not face hardship when they go back because you provide guidance? You said that you talked to the community, to leaders and the families.

Yes, raising awareness first starts with the family. The health agent comes with us to the authorities to tell them that the NGO is going to intervene in a certain way and that’s what is bringing us there. For patients who have been cured of obstetric fistula, the nurse accompanies us to the village. Sometimes the nurses discover the localities that they are used to writing down as "common" when they have never been in the field. And when they realise how far away these women are, how far they must travel, they now take the cases of women who come from these villages seriously. Once they arrive in the village, the women share their experiences. But the health worker also must speak. He also makes his plea. He says that he expects the people of these villages or this community to come quickly for care so that they can heal quickly rather than being evacuated because it is expensive. 

When it comes to the families, we also speak to the men. We tell them that fistula is not easily curable. It requires a lot of money, and it stigmatises and traumatises the girls. So, if they avoid child marriage and give children the chance to go to school…if they avoid girls having to wait before going for care and allow them to go for consultations and assisted deliveries instead, they will not have any more cases of fistula. 

And finally, we make the village chiefs aware of their responsibilities as well, telling them: “if there is a case of fistula in this village, you are responsible because you have been warned. You will have asked for it because we have warned you. And it works. As soon as a woman is sick, they say: go quickly to the dispensary and another woman must accompany you. So, they have all the information at hand, and they respect it.

If they avoid girls having to wait before going for care, and allow them to go for consultations and assisted deliveries instead, they will not have any more cases of fistula. 

It’s great to see success in that way.  You still face some challenges, I suppose. What’s the biggest one?

The great difficulty is the lack of understanding of others about fistula. Fistula is found in remote or isolated areas. If you don't go there, they don't listen to you and they don't take the fight seriously. To fight fistula, people only talk about operations, over and over. I say it is not operations that will eradicate fistula. Fistula can only be eradicated through prevention. First, child marriage must be banned and access to basic social services must be promoted. Second, parents must understand the risks of not providing prenatal care and assisted childbirth.

The DIMOL Centre can accommodate about 50 women, but fistula affects thousands of women in Niger. What do you need to support more women?  

We need more space. We need to be able to accommodate more women, organise the treatment of cases better and ensure a better follow-up. 

We also need more space for the training we do in sewing, basketry, weaving, knitting, etc. This training is not only for fistula victims. We have women from various women’s groups who come to acquire skills to fight against poverty. We think that fistula is also a poverty issue. To avoid complications for these women, if they can access training for financial empowerment, they can also cure their health issues. And it works, because they come for empowerment, they can listen to the conversations, and it strengthens the women. We need the space to do all that.

We need more resources to create a centre where we can offer training for women, for NGOs or organisations, community decision-makers and others… We have a lot to share… but where? 

We’d also like to work beyond the fistula issue. We want to help women who have experienced gender-based violence. We want to support more women's economic empowerment. To increase our impact, we need more space and more resources.

Despite the challenges, your pride and joy are visible. When we arrived at the Centre earlier, I saw how your face lit up. How do you feel each time you walk in here? 

Yes, when I visit and I see a healthy and clean environment, when I see that the women are all clean, when I see the systems that I have organised in place, it gives me pride. It gives me even more pride since I say to myself that at least some of them listen to what they are told. They are present. This is what we wanted for the women that are there and need us. 

It is also a responsibility. Everything you do, everything they hear, they take at face value. And so, we avoid saying things that are not feasible.

Oh, you avoid making promises you can’t keep? 

Yes. And when we translate what visitors say, we translate the exact words the person said. Because they memorise everything. They don't write but they record everything we say. They call us back afterward. That makes me feel better. For me, it's an honour to see that women are expecting us to help them.

Has the prevalence of fistula changed in Niger over the course of your career? What changes have you observed? 

There are fewer fistulas, and the cases are less severe today. Before, we had multiple fistulas. Now the type of fistula is less serious, it is the bladder fistula. Before, we had many cases of recto-vaginal fistula. There were many deaths in Niger. The latest statistics are not yet available, but there has been a decrease in deaths. It is already something to see that even if a fistula is present, at least there is a reduction in maternal mortality and mortality following childbirth. 

One of our great successes is that thanks to DIMOL's strong advocacy, today, fistula is no longer a secret to anyone. First, there is a network that is created, the Fistula Eradication Network or REF. In the mother-child centres throughout Niger, the topic of fistula is discussed. This is a result for us, fistula has been identified as a public health problem, which is an honour for us. 

And it is not only in Niger. I remember in 1998 or 1999, when I spoke about fistula at a conference, there was one country whose representative said: “Fistula does not exist in my country”. He didn't even know what fistula was. But today that country is receiving hundreds of millions to fight against fistula. In nearby Burkina, they took the example of everything I said. It's like a consultation. There is even a lady who has created a foundation on fistula. And when she saw me, she said: “Mrs. Traoré, I respect you because if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have had my ideas for creating the Foundation in Burkina”. The foundation is called the RAMA Foundation. I am very happy about that. Moreover, we did our workshop on the fight against fistula with a professor from Nigeria, and they founded a center for fistula based on the Dimol model.

In part four, we’ll talk about the women who inspire her and the changes she sees in regards to women, as a participant of the 1995 World Conference on Women in Beijing and a decades-long advocate against the stigma around fistula. Read it here.

Join the conversation!

We’d love to hear your thoughts on this first part. Let us know in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.

Click here to learn more about the work of the DIMOL Centre and how you can support them

“I know that with my hands and my head, I can provide for myself” - Salamatou Traoré (Niger) - 2/4

We are in conversation with Mrs Salamatou Traoré from Niger. In the first part of our conversation, we talked about what inspired her choice to build a career in healthcare. In this second part, we continue our discussion with a focus on her public health career.

You told me how you decided to start a career in public health. Could you tell me about some of the milestones in your career? 

In 1983, I worked in a renowned public maternity ward as a supervisor. There wasn’t enough space for all the patients suffering from fistula. Only 9 beds were available, while there were more than 20 women with fistula. We saved the beds for serious or urgent cases, but all the other women had to be outside under the sheds. 

When I was promoted to the position of director at another maternity facility in the Lamor Dieng district, I had almost 32 empty beds, because they were all saved for deliveries, and there was rarely more than one delivery per day. One day, I asked my boss who was also my professor, a Frenchman named Dr. Bianchi, if I could transfer the women from the other maternity ward. In this facility, they were taken care of completely. From 1983 to 1988, they stayed with me in Lamor Dieng. We took care of them. They had free food and access to cleaning products such as soap, thanks to the maternity allocations and the donations we sometimes received. We would cure infections and prepare them for surgery, and before they were discharged, we made them undergo physical examinations to avoid having them go back home with infections without even knowing.

It was really good, and I educated these patients. During their stay, we taught them hygiene rules, the causes and consequences of what they had experienced, and how to be safe after they returned home. We also did their pre-operative check-up.

This is amazing.

But it didn't last. When I was appointed director of the referral maternity hospital five years later, they got kicked out of the maternity hospital in Lamor Dieng and had to come back to the Central Hospital, under the sheds.

That’s still a great success, despite the hardship! Tell me about one of the most difficult decisions you had to make in your career in public healthcare?

It was in 1991 when I worked as the director of the Issaka Gazobi Maternity Hospital also known as the Central. I made the decision to leave the board. I was disappointed by my staff who didn’t like to work. In my former position in Lamor Dieng, I managed to convince the whole staff of the importance of cleanliness. As soon as I arrived, I would start by checking the cleanliness of the toilets before even going to my office. The hospital was as clean as a private clinic.

When I arrived at the Central Hospital, I did my best to train the public service staff, but I didn’t succeed. On Fridays, when we had to clean the maternity ward thoroughly, everyone would run away making excuses: “My husband is sick”; “My child has a doctor’s appointment”…I remember one Friday when there was hardly anyone to clean, so I took out my cleaning products (which I sometimes bought with my own money) and cleaned the ward myself, with three staff members. We disinfected everything. 

I returned to the office with my clothes all wet. I sat down with my head in my hands. I said to myself: “What I am doing in this department is not the work of a midwife; it is not the kind of work I should have at this level. I can do more than just be mean to these people”. So, I took a sheet of paper. I put in a request for voluntary departure, and I went to my professor and said, “Dr. Bianchi, I'm going to leave Central”. He listened to me and then he burst out laughing. He told me, “I knew you were wasting your time”. It was an encouragement.

Did you have any doubts about your decision at all? 

When you’re looking for a solution, you don’t know what is fair and what isn’t. As soon as you find a solution, right or wrong, you feel comfortable. 

People were shocked, whether it was my coworkers or the Ministry’s staff after they received my letter. They kept asking, “A director who resigns? How is that possible? Why are you leaving?” I told them, “I don’t have anything more than anyone else; I know I’m serving my country, but I can only go so far.” The whole situation disgusted me because I was being mean to everybody. So, I quit and left.

You had no fears for the future? 

I said to myself “I’ll start a private clinic and see what I can do.” If it didn’t work out, as a midwife I could still work in other clinics. It’s something I was already doing from time to time to help them with deliveries and all that. I know that with my hands and my head, I can provide for myself. I was at peace. I know I disappointed some people who thought I cared about this maternity ward because it was the referral maternity hospital. But then they realised that I came and did more. 

Was there a time when you felt that other people truly recognised your contributions? 

Before I resigned, I met Mrs. Aïssata Moumouni, the first woman to be a member of the Nigerien government. We were at the Safe Motherhood Conference in Niger and at the time, she was State Secretary for Public Health and Social Affairs, responsible for the status of women. She knew who I was because of the changes I made in the maternity ward. For instance, I helped reduce the safety hazards due to the presence of street vendors at the gate. She also knew who I was because of an article I wrote on women’s health in the newspaper Femme Action et Développement. 

She thought I was a very dynamic woman and decided to send me to a regional conference on female genital mutilation, which took place in Mali in 1988. At that time, all the countries in the region had set up a committee on female genital mutilation except Niger. She thought I could do it. 

That's how CONIPRAT [Comité Nigérien sur les Pratiques Traditionnelles ayant effet sur la Santé des Femmes et des Enfants - Nigerien Committee on Traditional Practices Affecting the Health of Women and Children] was created in 1989. After the conference in Mali, I collected all the information I could find. I compiled everything and it worked. I was the secretary-general and another of my former instructors was the President. I worked there until 1996. In 1998, I started a private, personal clinic, DIMOL, and off it went.

Mrs Traoré founded the DIMOL Centre to support women suffering from obstetric fistula. We’ll talk more about the Centre in the third part of our conversation. Click here to read it.

Join the conversation!

We’d love to hear your thoughts on this first part. Let us know in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.