Sunday, January 14, 2018

The Story of Salimatu

Matu, I will call her that to conceal her real identity. She was so full of life. She must have been 4 or 5 when we first met. We connected. She was a curious little gem. I love kids and the curious ones get me all the time. I met her through her older sister who was a mentee. This must be 2010 or thereabouts. Whenever I visited, she would hug me so tight and we would chat about her school, my work and the fun she'd had the day...She was a happy little one. One day I would visit her house and received a shocker that I least expected. It would hit me so hard and sap the life out of me for a moment..No she isn't dead and she wasn't raped.

She was going to be a teacher. She loves to teach. Teaching for her was a big deal. She gets to hold the cane. Yay. She feels authoritative. She thinks that's all the teachers do. Well, for her class, the teachers go around with a cane and all the kids fall in line. The hard-headed ones tasted the teacher's wrath. She seldom gets whipped. She was quiet but very curious. She sees the cane in her English class and her Arabic class. At home and everywhere. In Arabic class, she would explain, the Ustaz (teacher) can beat bad way. That was no joke. I remember going to Arabic classes after school in the Mosque. OH boy...Our Ustaz used to flog.I really didn't know why they whip us so bad. They would tell us, -the students- the Quran came down with rattan and by that, and in their personal dictionary, it is literally a rattan. I got flogged one day my mom had to come and warned the Uztaz seriously. He never did it to me again. So when Matu says her Ustaz beat on the kids, it's no joke. She wants that authority to hold the rattan. Teaching was the way! She would go on and on explaining. I love how she would be so convinced in her thoughts. I love the fact that she wanted to teach but her reasons were lil off. I would try to tell her other beautiful things about being a woman teacher beyond holding the cane.

 In Liberia, many prefer other fields to teaching. For obvious reasons: ie low salary, meager benefits where there are, and the overall incentive doesn't look attractive. And yet, we need teachers in every classroom. I wasn't going to discourage my incoming teacher,-- with the cane-- may I add. We would go on. When i try to discourage her about the cane, i would notice she's getting disinterested. Then, i would remind her. You know most of your teachers and your friend's teachers are women right? I would ask. Yeah, she would respond. Ask your big sis Bintu (Not her real name) who's in the senior high. Most, if not all of her teachers are males. Oh but why? You see, that's why we need women teachers. This was the Matu I knew. Until that fateful day! We talk on many subjects. When she realize we are about to eat, Bintu and I, she would hurriedly get her food and say, Aunty Kula, come eat with me na..She would beg me to eat her food. A spoon or two would satisfy her. I'm walking up the stairs and felt something heavy. But it didn't matter. They lived in a two-story building house downtown Monrovia. It's the busy part of town. You would hear the normal city noise. Cars, bikes, generator and just everything in between. Their flat was the upper one. Normally there is always a happy atmosphere all the time in their house. This day I'm at the door and Bintu welcomed me. She didn't look happy. There is a sad mood now. Where is Matu? Bintu reluctantly says, she's inside. The room door was opened. It is normally open all the time. It's a one bedroom where everyone sleeps. I looked in the room. I see my Matu. My heart leaped. I'm shaking. My mouth goes dry. Teardrops came rolling from nowhere. I want to take a step back, forth, side, at that moment, I didn't know what to do. Mom is in the room. Others are there. Dried eyes. Normal conversation. I'm I the stranger? I thought to myself. Matu is Fula. She is 4/5. What did I see? 
She is Fula. Fula women are very beautiful same as the men. As young as she was, you could see an emerging queen. Little Matu has these eyes that sparkled once in the presence of others. Bintu was already a queen. Her naturally flowing hair, blended with an oval-shaped face, and long chin and high chick-bone that only required a little smirk and a perfect face is formed. She also had a "perfect body" shape. Average height, curves in all the right places and long legs. Indeed they were both beautiful inside out. With good manners too. This isn't to say some Fulas aren't "Uncle George Loves You"..(You know what that means). Like every other group of people, the Fulas have tradition and culture. Traditions and cultures are passed down from one generation to the other. As time goes by, traditions and cultures are modified to cope with the reality of the day. Unfortunately, some norms remain as constant as the northern star. Even if they are scientifical, medically, logically proven to be harmful. Some of the practices find their bases in religion, beliefs, superstitions etc. Mostly, some practices have no scientific bearing. People get so used and accustomed to them that it build a pattern in their psychology and make them believe that it is the right thing that they are doing. This was the case of Matu. She had no saying in the decision of what was going to happen to her. She was only 4/5. Tradition must be obeyed, just like the generation of women in her family. At home too. 
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At home, she was cut!
We grew up speaking Vai. Mommy is Vai inside out. Daddy, hmm, he got a whole lot of ethnicity thing going on. But one thing crystal about my family is that we are of the Mande speaking group. There you will find Vai, Mandingo, Gola, Mende etc. Put daddy there, he would speak all those languages perfectly. I wouldn't be a stranger in Cape Mount, Bomi, Gbapolu, Lofa and Sierra Leone. Daddy shares all those lineages and because he did, and as patriarchy depicts, I share similar. To sum this up, we are of the Mande clan. The Sande Society is a big deal for my people. It is a cultural practice that has lasted for as long as life itself. It is a way of life of my people. There is the economic part too. Unlike Matu and the Fula tradition, there is a whole lot of ceremony about the Sande Society. Families lived to see their daughters initiation. I know this not just by reading literature and being of the Mande clan but by the proximity of how close I came to it for several years. We lived in Samukai camp, Upper Caldwell where Sierra Leonean refugees sought refuge during their crisis. We were not refugees neither were we Sierra Leoneans. We were too poor to handle the challenges of Liberia at that time and with the rumors of war, a refugee camp was the safest zone. That meant free school, free medical, free food and most importantly safety. Though it came with its own baggage, my parents would settle for a better system for their children then-refugee life- We became "Sierra Leonean Refugees". The Camp was predominantly occupied by the Mendes.(the largest in Sierra Leone ) When they came to Liberia, of course, their culture would follow especially when culture is a people's way of life.We lived about 5-7 minutes walk from the Sande Bush. We could hear the girls sing daily, we would pass by the bush to fetch water, to go to the creeks to do laundry.(Washing) Our kind of laundry was nothing fancy" no electricity involve, no washing or drying machine whatsoever. In fact, we never knew what those were. We only read about them on the tags of our clothes with instructions like "Machine Wash with like colors, tuber dry, iron as needed"..lol...we didn't understand what those words were. Our kind of doing laundry was like you taking a tub full of dirty clothes to the creek, dip the tub in the running water, get some water, throw in your clothes, rub soap on them, hit them as hard as you can on those huge rocks until the stains are out. Rinse them with clean water and lay them on the street, grass and whatever was available. That was our dryer.No, we didn't die and didn't get any rashes from the clothes being placed on the ground for drying.Normally, when we were going to the creek as young girls we would go in group or supervised by an older person for fear of us being caught by the ladies of the Bush and send to Sande or on the other hand some girls would want to put their families in "problem " they would escape home and run to the Bush.. Once you are in there, your family will have to do everything to cater for your needs. Food clothing and everything. The ceremony is huge no joke. And that also lured young girls into it. The ceremonies are like: after the girls spend some time in the bush (here, timing varies. From 3 weeks to several months and it also depends on how financially fluid your family is.), when it is time to brought out, there would be dance everywhere on the camp for the members and it's like all day all night. Now finally the girls made their first outdoor appearance- they would be dressed in all white. White satin like shorts and bras made of white wool beautifully patterned and white headties. They would all be covered in white chalk from head to toe, face included beautifully designed. Of course as a young child who wouldn't want that? They would sing and dance the whole time. They would visit the elders and zoes in the town singing and greeting them. They would go home to greet their families too.This would take up half the day. Of course, we would leave our chores and follow them around the whole day to every corner of the town. When they are about to retreat to their bush we would run from them. On their first appearance, they don't sleep in the town. At the end of the day, they would go back to their bush. The bush was like a house with one entry faced outside and fenced with Palm tree branches all around in a circle that you wouldn't see a thing from the outside beside the face of a house outside and the fence. I was the quiet but stubborn one. My kid sister was the outgoing and frisky one. We would do all our ish, but we'd dare not venture closer to the bush. On their final appearance, mannn, this was the thing! The night before, it is like no sleeping in the town. Drums, Sassas and all kinds of traditional instruments. Singing, dancing and everything in between. This would go on until the girls are prepared to come out. There is an obvious OMG moment when they step out.This time, they would be beautifully dressed in all kinds, colors and make of fabrics. Their makeups would all be "fleeking", hairstyles would be popping and footwears wouldn't be left out of the party. Indeed the occasions are colourful. Unlike their first appearance, this time they wouldn't be doing any dancing. People would do all of that for them.They would only walk slowly around the town and return greetings. There would be someone holding for them an umbrella over their heads. This whole celebration would also involve the drumming, singing etc. During both appearances, they would receive money, gifts and any token of appreciation. From this time to about two weeks, they would be treated as queens. During the first days at home, their porches would be redesigned to welcome the new queen. The porches would be covered with new fabric to create a cover for where the queen would sit. A chair would be designed with beautiful soft pillow where she would sit. A table to put her feet on. She would eat three times a day. Someone would be on duty at her call. There would be someone there to fan her. She would change outfits twice or three times a day. This was no joke. Indeed a queen! She would sit from A.M. TO P.M. People would troop in to greet her. On the fourth day, she would go around dressed up to greet people and receive gifts. They would take their umbrellas along. This was so beautiful and colourful. As kids my sister and I had one day plan to mimic the ceremony. Our mom and aunt weren't home and we decided my kid sister and myself would be the zoes. Our two cousins were the girls. We took mom's hair relaxer and relaxed our cousins hair. We took everything from mommy's makeup to shoes to new outfits and everything. We dressed up the girls and sat them down on our porch and used mommy's wrapper (lappa) to create the blinds for the girls. After our hard work, the girls were both seated and we decided to go get them food. Before we turned, we saw our friend running toward us nearly breathless. By this time now the news had gone around in our neighbourhood to let our friends come and join us to play Sande. Jumah, after managing to regain her life, tells us that there was one of the Sande women coming in our neighbourhood.She was the Sande announcer going around with announcement for the members. If she catches us playing Sande, we would all (the girls, my sister and I, our friends who'd come to witness) be taken to the bush. Upon hearing that, oh boy, our cousins started crying, we all were confused. They jump down from their chair. We begin ripping everything apart.Removed the blinds, tried to undress the girls to their normal self and reset our house. We tried. we failed . You see, in our town they provided "safety nets" for all their members. You are not allowed to talk back at a member or even exchange words harshly. You and a member should never fight even if you both are age mates or classmates. You both are not on the same level. You are called names and provoked. In school, you can be the smartest, you are still ranked lower as per their scale. 
After I left Matu's house that day, I couldn't sleep. My head would go all over just asking myself why...I would retrospect on our life in Samukai Camp and my Sande experiences and would say to myself, poor Matu didn't get all that celebration that would've made her mentally escape her agony for a little while. She didn't get that!

The Sande Announcer arrives at our Sande Playing station, we have not succeeded in clearing everything and certainly, the girls aren't completely undressed. What happened next? Follow the story.

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The Story of Salimatu

Matu, I will call her that to conceal her real identity. She was so full of life. She must have been 4 or 5 when we first met. We connected...