Learning our place…
We spent the day with a young female ex-combatant this past weekend. Just as we were about to start our interview, we heard the approaching sounds of singing and clanging on cans. As we looked up, we saw a person wearing a black mask and a black straw outfit, followed by a line of the elder women of the village; They were celebrating. We asked our translator what the occasion was and she replied that they were from the “female society” of the village. We came to realize that this was in fact a village group that practiced female genital mutilation as a means to initiate girls into womanhood.
As we were leaving the village at the end of the interview, we again encountered the celebratory group as they crossed the road from one house to another. Our translator explained further: two young girls had been initiated into the FGM society that morning… when we had initially seen the women, they were celebrating the just-completed initiations. This had taken place while we were there, literally sitting less than 200 meters away.
I have never felt so powerless. Even if I had been standing in the room, what could I have done? These women have nothing but the best of intentions — they believe that without this operation, the girls would not be prepared to marry and have children. Who am I to say what is right or wrong with a traditional, cultural ritual? But I cannot shake that such violence took place in our presence. But what could I have done? I was a guest in the village, a white woman with a tape recorder…
To learn more about FGM, please visit http://www.unicef.org/protection/index_genitalmutilation.html