Photo: Lynsey Addario for The New York Times |
Great news: Tostan is featured on the front page of today's
New York Times!
Journalist Celia Dugger, photographer Lynsey Addario, and
videographer Nicholas Loomis traveled to the Kolda region of Senegal in May to
learn about Tostan's program and to attend a public declaration where 119
communities came together to declare their abandonment of harmful traditional
practices, including female genital cutting (FGC).
SARE HAROUNA, Senegal — When Aissatou Kande was a little girl, her family followed a tradition considered essential to her suitability to marry. Her clitoris was sliced off with nothing to dull the pain.
But on her wedding day, Ms. Kande, her head
modestly covered in a plain white shawl, vowed to protect her own
daughters from the same ancient custom. Days later, her village declared
it would abandon female genital cutting for good.
Across the continent, an estimated
92 million girls and women have undergone it. But like more than
5,000 other Senegalese villages, Sare Harouna has joined a growing movement to
end the practice.
The change has not yet reached Ms. Kande’s
new home in her husband’s village, but if elders there pressured her to
cut the baby girl she is taking into the marriage, she said, “I would
resist them.” Her parents back her up.
“They would never dare do that to my
granddaughter, and we would never allow it,” said Ms. Kande’s mother, Marietou
Diamank.
The movement to end genital cutting is spreading
in Senegal at a quickening pace through the very ties of family and ethnicity
that used to entrench it. And a practice once seen as an immutable part of a
girl’s life in many ethnic groups and African nations is ebbing, though rarely
at the pace or with the organized drive found in Senegal.
The change is happening without the billions of
dollars that have poured into other global health priorities throughout the
developing world in recent years. Even after campaigning against genital cutting for years,
the United Nations has raised less than half the $44 million it set as the
goal.
But here in Senegal, Tostan, a
group whose name means “breakthrough” in Wolof, Senegal’s dominant language,
has had a major impact with an education program that seeks to build consensus,
African-style, on the dangers of the practice, while being careful not to
denounce it as barbaric as Western activists have been prone to do. Senegal’s
Parliament officially banned the practice over a decade ago, and the government
has been very supportive of Tostan’s efforts.
“Before you would never even dare to discuss
this,” said Mamadou Dia, governor of the Kolda region where this village is
located. “It was taboo. Now you have thousands of people coming to abandon it.”
The night before Sare Harouna joined 118 other
villages for a ceremony to abandon the practice, people poured in by horse
cart, bus and truck. As darkness fell, women illuminated by wood fires stirred
vats of couscous and beef stew for the hordes of visitors.
The next day’s event had the feel of a county
fair. Dignitaries spoke over a tinny public-address system. Teenagers staged
plays about the dangers of genital cutting. Traditional storytellers known as
griots entertained the throng gathered around a dusty field.
Over the past 15 years, the drive to end the
practice has gained such momentum that a majority of Senegalese villages where
genital cutting was commonplace have committed to stop it, Tostan and United
Nations officials say.
With too few resources to replicate Tostan’s
health and human rights classes across Africa, Nafissatou Diop, who coordinates
the United Nations-led campaign to end the practice, is looking for quicker,
cheaper strategies to change social conventions on cutting. Tostan has pursued
an ambitious effort here with support from Unicef and others, but its two- to
three-year program costs about $21,000 per village — a substantial sum
considering the countless villages that continue the practice.
“The program is transformative, and I love that
as an African woman,” said Ms. Diop, who is Senegalese, “but we need to move
faster.”
An improbable collection of characters shaped
Tostan’s methods: Molly Melching, a friendly, irrepressible educator from
Illinois; Demba Diawara, a revered imam from a Senegalese village; and Gerry
Mackie, a political theorist and associate professor at the University of
California, San Diego.
Ms. Melching, 61, came to Senegal as an exchange
student when she was 24 and never left, working with street children for the
Peace Corps, devising a rural education program in a village where she lived in
the 1980s, and starting Tostan 20 years ago. The group aims broadly to improve
health and spread awareness of human rights. Women in village classes themselves
raised the issue of genital cutting. They told of daughters and sisters who had
hemorrhaged and sometimes died from botched circumcisions.
In 1997, women in the village of Malicounda
Bambara declared their determination to end the practice — a stand that made
news.
Source: NY Times
Source: NY Times
1 comment:
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