The Agony of Water Scarcity
Photo by Tucker Tangeman on Unsplash THROUGH THE EYES OF OJONUGWA YAHAYA INTRODUCTION Located in an atmosphere of serenity and decorated with the rich savannah vegetation, the communal life and practice of trade by barter is still held with great prestige in the community of Ojokpachi-Odo. Ojokpachi is one of the villages in Omala Local Government Area (LGA) of Kogi State. The years I spent growing up with my grandmother in Ojokpachi would have been nothing short of amazing and enjoyable if we had access to clean and accessible water. The major source of water in the community is the stream (Oche and Oshumamanyi), while those that can afford hand-dug wells have it close to their compounds. The quality of the well water is determined by the nature of the soil where the well is situated, and it is not all the available wells that produce good, safe water. The well in my family compound produces hard water (highly concentrated in calcium and magnesium carbonates, bicarbonates and sulphates). The water is not good for drinking. We usually manage it for other domestic use such as cooking, bathing and washing, though the water does not lather well with soap, so it does not really wash cloths clean and ends up leaving the skin looking white and dry after every bath. During the raining season, we practice rainwater harvesting; a practice where my grandmother usually collects drinking water into special clay pots. The journey of water collection to the nearby stream during raining season is usually much easier, even with the distance of about 6 kilometres. Because the stream is full, and water flows freely during this time, we can make up to five (5) trips at a stretch. It is important to note that water collection in most households in the community is predominantly done by women and girls, making life difficult for women and girls. When school is in session, children of school age like me normally go for water collection first thing in the morning before setting off to school. When we get to school, some of us are assigned to fetch water to teachers houses as part of our labour duties. On getting home and having a rushed lunch, we set off for another round of water collection for the household until the available large water containers are filled up. It is an everyday routine. When school is not in session, we usually fetch water before going to farm. During the dry season when water scarcity reaches its peak, when the stream dries up and wells do not get to produce enough water, life in the village become as hard as you can imagine. We have to walk several miles – beyond 6 kilometres – in search of water. Women and girls set out as early as 3:00am or as soon as the cock crows to go in search of water, carrying touch lights in their hands. Women use cutlass to dig shallow ponds in the moist part of the stream, which is now dried, then wait patiently for the water to gather before scooping it with a little bowl into to a larger round container/basin which is equivalent to 25 litres keg. The queue usually become very long as the day breaks, sometimes water collection may take the whole day. The best time to get water from the shallow pond is very early in the morning or at midday when most people have gone to the farm, because the moment most of the people get back from farm the queue become unbearable. Sometimes, after waiting for hours, and getting to evening when the sun finally disappears, one may return home with an empty container. When the water situation becomes tougher, women and their children (girls) take time off farming activities completely to dedicate more days to fetching water. In this case the mother will be at the water source, scooping water from the hand-dug pond… scooping and waiting for it to gather again as if she is counting every drop, while the children will concentrate on carrying the water home. The journey home is never easy at this point, as our neck aches, with the centre of the head pleading for freedom from the water load, and shaky legs climbing the stony hill and walking the sloppy paths. The feet feels the hardness of the stones under the flip-flop slippers and bodies soaked with the constant droplets from the edge of the large basin, balanced on the head and held with both hands. One trip can take one and half hours. In some cases men who have bicycles go farther along the farm road with their kegs tied to the back of their bicycles in search of where the stream had formed a pond and is yet to dry up. Though the water gotten from there is usually dirty, brownish in colour and has odour due to dry leaves falling into the pond or as a result of cattle coming to drink from it. Usually when men fetch water, it is for their own personal use: for laundry and bathing and not for the entire household use as they believe that fetching water for the household is the duty of women and girls. My grandmother use to join us to fetch water but at a point due to old age, she did not have the strength to carry water, or wait on the queue to scoop water from the shallow hand-dug pond. But whenever me and my little sister go for water collection, she appreciates us a lot, calling us sweet names or our clan’s greeting name (Oyowo-gida), and adding larger portions of dry fish to our dinner. My grandmother feels our pains and wishes she could help. On several accessions, either me or my sister will return from the stream with swollen face from bee stings and my grandmother will cry and say we should not go to collect water again, but if we do
The First Time
Photo by Reproductive Health Supplies Coalition on Unsplash ‘Remember the family from which you are from and be careful the things you do.’ These words from my mother were playing in my head as I walked to the chemist to buy contraceptives. You see, I had not been thinking of my parents when I had sex, and I had definitely not been thinking of my family when I had sex without protection. So here I was, 17 years old, feeling my heart constrict as I thought, ‘Was I pregnant? Could I be pregnant from having done it once?’ Oooh! If I was pregnant, I was going to be in a world of trouble. How would I face my very conservative family where we were raised to act, think, believe and behave a certain way? My mother would kill me! Or maybe send me out of the house. Would I have to raise the child on the streets? Would the father – curse him for refusing to use protection – help me? Oh, who was I kidding? He would probably get away with it while my entire life turns upside down. My steps quickened as these thoughts ran through my head, matching the erratic beat of my heart. Funny that a heart attack would be preferred right now than the idea of being pregnant. Finally, I was at the chemist. I took a deep breath, steeled myself and entered. There must have been seven people in that small room, all waiting to be served. I could barely see the shelves and their different sections: drugs on one side, groceries on another, and other Knick knacks here and there. What I could see clearly was that ‘Doctor’ was moving from shelve to counter with the speed of experience. PS: He wasn’t a real doctor. The community had just gotten used to calling him that. He turned to me. ‘Yes? What do you want?’ Of course, I wasn’t going to say what I wanted in front of all these people. There was no way I was going to bring shame to my family – my mother! – by letting these adults know that I had had sex. So, I looked around and my gaze fell on a bar of Snickers on one shelf. I love chocolate…and I just found my escape. ‘Snickers, please.’ Doctor went to the shelf, picked it up and passed it to me. He stretched out his hand for his money, but I looked away, pretending there was more I wanted. He walked to another person and his trips from shelf to counter continued. He, however, continuously glanced at me…probably making sure I didn’t run away. When everyone had left the shop, he turned his full attention to me. ‘Ehen. Anything else?’ He turned away from me, picking up a juice packet to return to its shelf. With his back to me, I bolstered courage and asked for what I really wanted. ‘I…I…can I…please have…Postinor?’ Doctor froze and slowly turned to me. My chest tightened furiously, sweat began to drop from armpits and my palms became clammy. ‘You say what?’ Doctor bellowed. ‘Ermmm…the drugs you use for…’ ‘I know what it is used for!’ Doctor interrupted. ‘What is a small girl like you doing with Postinor? So as small as you are, you are an ashawo?’ I flinched. In my community, Ashawo was a crude term used to refer to sex workers, or women who dared to be openly sexual. And now, I had been classified as one. Just then, another customer walked in. I gasped. ‘Look at this small girl oh.’ He engaged the new customer. ‘She wants to buy Postinor. She don spoil so tey she dey sleep with man and she know wetin she go do make she no get belle. She wan continue this behavior.’ The man looked at me, a look of judgment on his face mirroring that of Doctor…and what I knew would be the same look on my mother face. I wanted to turn back and run away but I imagined all the beating I would get, and other ways my mother would communicate her displeasure if I got pregnant. The fact that I would be ostracized in the community did not even scare me like what my mother would do to me. If I didn’t get this contraceptive, my life as I knew it might as well be over. So, I squared my shoulders, flared my nostrils, looked at Doctor straight in the eyes and shouted, ‘Mr. Man! Are you going to sell the Postinor to me or not?!’ If word was going to get my mother, they could as well add that I was also a rude child. Doctor look at me, turned to the shelf with the contraceptive, picked it up and tossed it at me over the counter. In like manner, I took the money from my purse, bunched it up and tossed it right back at him. And even though I wanted to run out of the shop, I raised my head up and walked out as calmly as my shaky legs could carry me. That day, I got my contraceptives. I didn’t get pregnant. And my family never found out about the issues…until just now that is.
Ripple Effects of Poverty: Hunger
A young boy leaning on a corrugated Zinc fence.Photo by Ben White on Unsplash Every time I think of poverty in many African communities, I can’t help but mull over how this poverty is experienced on various levels. Thankfully, there is a term that effectively explains this: multidimensional poverty. According to the Oxford Poverty and Human Development Initiative (OPHI), “Multidimensional poverty encompasses the various deprivations experienced by poor people in their daily lives – such as poor health, lack of education, inadequate living standards, disempowerment, poor quality of work, the threat of violence, and living in areas that are environmentally hazardous, among others.” This definition effectively captures the thoughts that race through my head when I think of poverty. It is simple to just equate poverty with low income and end it there. But what are the ripple effects of this low income on the individual? On their families? On the opportunities they get? On the possibility of leaving their social classes and improving their lives? So, the concept of poverty is so much more than how much a person earns or what global benchmarked income they earn less than. For this piece, I want to focus on one direct ripple effect of poverty: hunger. World Vision postulates that, “In the whole of Africa, 257 million people are experiencing hunger, which is 20% of the population.” In essence, 1 in every 5 people on the continent are hungry. To bring this home, this isn’t saying that 1 in 5 Africans in the continent have a desire for food, which is one of the definitions of hunger. This statistic shows that if you see five people today, there is a possibility that 1 of them has chronic hunger, meaning they may have diets that are either inadequate in quality or quantity, or that they have no food at all. This is a problem. Apart from the physical effects of hunger – which (by the way) are many – there are ways that hunger negates a person’s dignity. Because hunger is such a primal need, people who are hungry do not ‘have shame’, which is the Nigerian parlance for self-respect or worth. This is why it isn’t surprising that many people who are in this category of chronic hunger are prone to doing any (and every) thing for a meal. Years ago, when I was a student at Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, I went to a restaurant which students called, Zinc House. Now, ‘restaurant’ is a bit of stretch. This place was a makeshift building with corrugated zinc for walls and roof, and wooden benches where people could sit across each other for their meals. It was a really popular restaurant among students and members of staff, mostly because they served lots of food at a really cheap cost. You were not assured of hygienic meals, but you could get a plateful for whatever amount of money you had. If you wanted food for 200 Naira, you were sure to get it. If you wanted something for 120 Naira, you would have your food. This place didn’t just have its student/staff traipsing in and the restaurant staff that served them. It also had some almajiris – a collection of young children who earned their meals by begging – hanging around ready to scavenge leftovers for themselves. On the last day I was there, some guy who came in didn’t finish his food after a fly perched on it. He had not gotten to the thick chunks of meat he had ordered when he abandoned his meal. As soon as it was established that he was done eating, the scramble by these almajiris to get his food took the taste out of my mouth. In their squabble, they turned the food unto the dirt floor and proceeded to eat from the ground. (It is important that I mention that the floor was not just ‘dirty’: it was made of compact clay, thus… dirt floor.) Seeing children fighting themselves to eat off the floor…a floor that was dirty by virtue of it being made of literal dirt and having been stepped on by people from all kinds of places…broke me. I got up, called the smallest child in the group and gave him the rest of my meal. I then hurriedly left this place that displayed their lack of dignity and my shame at being unable to do more. Every time I think of poverty, especially as it relates to hunger, that image comes to my head. And while it isn’t the only one that does, it is the one that always gets me depressed. Every human being deserves dignity and respect. That dignity is lost when people degrade themselves for a chance at getting food. Let me emphasize that: no one should ever think that they need to fight for food; or eat meals that are leftovers; or scrape off the floor to get at their meal; or sell themselves; or any number of things that make them feel less worthy. It is one of the reasons I am fully in support of the Sustainable Development Goals 1 and 2, which aim to end extreme poverty and hunger in all forms by 2030. We have about 10 years to achieve this. And be assured, the task is daunting. There are many factors that prevent Africans from having access to the food they need to starve off hunger: communal clashes like the herder-farmer clashes in many parts of Nigeria; multi-pronged issues like drought, famine, conflict and instability in places like South Sudan and Central African Republic; and deeply entrenched corruption by many leaders of our African countries…to mention a few. Ending extreme poverty in our continent is going to require a lot of cohesion by governments and the people. What are some low-hanging fruits that can accelerate this goal? The major one I can see now is the basic respect and protection of all people, regardless of their social status. I believe this is one of
Open Defecation: A Known Enemy Affecting the Everyday Nigerian Life
Old woman showing her makeshift toilet.Credit: UN NewsBy Ojonugwa Yahaya from HipCity Innovation Centre Among human communities, there are some behaviours which have negative impact the people and endangers the health of the entire population. Most times, the people ignore the consequences because they believe it is an age-old practice and their forebears were not affected by it, or because of a fear of change. Also, when these people weigh their options and feel the cost of behavioural change outweighs their usual behaviour, they are usually unwilling to change. On the list of such unhealthy behaviour is the monster called open defecation (OD). Open defecation is the emptying of bowels in the open without the use of properly designed structures built for the handling of human waste such as toilet. People may choose to defecate in the fields, bushes, forest, canal, ditches, street or other open space. According to World Health Organisation open defecation pollutes the environment and causes health problems. Open defecation is linked to the high prevalence of water-borne infectious disease such as Diarrhoea, Cholera and Hepatitis A, among others. It is also linked to high child mortality, poor nutrition and poverty in Nigeria. The reasons that have been given by people who practice the habit of open defecation have either been poverty that makes it a challenge to build latrines or lack of government support in providing toilet facilities. In cases where the toilets are available, but people still end up preferring to defecate in the open, the reason can extend to cultural beliefs related to sharing toilets among family or non-family members. An example is can be found in communities where it is forbidden for a man to share the same toilet with a woman who is menstruating or a woman who newly gives birth to a child. In some other cases, people prefer open-air defecation due to the freedom it gives them as opposed to using a small dark structure or the inconvenience of using toilets that are dirty due to poor maintenance culture. Open defecation in Nigeria has a negative impact that cannot be overemphasised. It is not limited to local communities: even in the bustling city centres, open defecation is practiced predominantly by the people in these communities. Take the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) Abuja for example. In communities such as Shere (Bwari), Rije (Kuje), Leleyi Gwari (Kwali), Kaida (Gwagwalada), and even in the city centre like Jabi (Jabi Motor Park) and Utako Market etc, open defecation is very obvious. Following the declaration of a state of emergency on Nigeria’s Water supply, Sanitation and Hygiene (WASH), the inauguration of the National Action Plan for the Revitalization of Water supply, Sanitation and Hygiene (WASH) by the Nigerian government at the State House Conference Centre on 8th November 2018, and the national launch and flag-off of Clean Nigeria; Use the Toilet campaign on 19th November 2019, one would have envisaged that Nigeria would have made great strides in tackling the issue of open defecation in practicable terms. The opposite, however, is the case, with Nigeria topping the rank of countries practicing open defecation in the world in year 2020; a position formally occupied by India. This is a national issue and quite the shameful one. According to the findings from the 2018 WASH National Outcome Routine Mapping (WASHNORM) survey, 47 million people in Nigeria defecate in the open; that is, 1 in 4 Nigerians defecate in the open. Out of 47 million Nigerians who practice open defecation, 16 million live in the North Central, with Kogi State topping the list in the North Central. The cost of open defecation on the development of Nigeria as a country cannot be overemphasised. The cost of open defecation in Nigeria includes: • Economic Cost: Nigeria loses about 1.3% (N455 billion) of Gross Domestic Product (GDP) annually due to poor sanitation as a result of illness, low productivity, loss of learning opportunities etc. • Health Impact: More than 100,000 children under 5 years die each year due to diarrhoea; of which 90 percent is directly attributable to unsafe water and sanitation. Nigeria is the second country with the highest children’s deaths due to diarrhoea • Impact on Child Development: 1in 4 children under 5 years exhibit severe stunting, while 1 in 10 are wasted, due to frequent episodes of diarrhoea and Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene (WASH) related illnesses. • Low Productivity: Frequent episodes of WASH-related diseases cause absence from school or work, as affected people take time off to heal, and some to take care of a sick relative. • Poor Education Outcomes: Reduced school enrolment and attendance due to time lost in search for water and frequent episodes of WASH-related illnesses. • Loss of Dignity and Security: Open defecation results in loss of dignity, increased risks of insecurity and violence against women and children. Source: (www.cleannigeria.ng) The Nigerian government has an action plan to end open defecation by the year 2025. The Federal Ministry of Water Resources in partnership with other relevant government agencies, NGOs, CSOs, and few private entities are showing their commitment through the Clean Nigeria; Use the Toilet campaign towards achieving the open defecation-free (ODF) target of 2025. In a press statement by the Minister of Water Resources, Engr. Suleiman Adamu, on August 26, 2020, he stated that 27 out of the 774 local government areas in Nigeria were certified open defecation-free (ODF). This indicates that the journey towards achieving total ODF in Nigeria is still very far. Attaining rapid success and effectiveness with the Clean Nigeria; Use the Toilet Campaign depends on: • Strong political commitment in leadership at all levels and increased in budgetary allocation towards improved sanitation and ending open defecation. • Increased collaboration amongst development organizations and civil society organizations working to improve sanitation and end open defecation. • Increased and timely support from the media for the dissemination of behavioural change messages, and increased coverage of human-interest stories on sanitation and hygiene. • Increased private sector engagement in the
Join Us to Commemorate International Day of the Girl
Shades of Us is supporting Girls Virtual Summit 2020, an event hosted by SWAG Initiative to commemorate International Day of the Girl. Here is what you need to know about the event. International Day of the Girl Child is an international observance day declared by the United Nations; it is also called the Day of the Girl. October 11, 2012 was the first day of the Girl Child. The observation supports more opportunity for girls and increases awareness of gender inequality faced by girls worldwide based upon their gender. This inequality includes areas such as access to education, nutrition, legal rights, medical care, and protection from discrimination, violence against women and forced child marriage. The celebration of the day also reflects the successful emergence of girls and young women as cohort in development policy, programming, campaigning and research. To commemorate this day, SWAG Initiative is organizing Girls Virtual Summit 2020, an event scheduled to hold on Sunday October 11, 2020, for girls all around the world. Girls Virtual Summit 2020 will bring together over 200 girls from around the world. It’s going to be a girl-centred event bringing notable and influential women from across the globe to interact and inspire these girls. Having recognised that girls are faced with various challenges, we seek to enlighten, educate, inform and teach girls how to live, stay safe and thrive in a world where girls are being molested, victimised and marginalised. We also intend to produce strong female leaders who will impact their generation, make positive changes and affect the world at large. At the end of the event, girls should be consciously aware of their roles, importance and worth and, should be able to act in their various capacities and step down this knowledge to their peers thereby changing their communities. Before the event, Girls will be asked to send in creative videos of spoken words, drama, talk show, dance, and lots more. Selected videos will be aired during Girls Virtual Summit on 11th October, 2020, and participants will also be rewarded. Date: Sunday October 11, 2O20 Time: 3PM (WAT) Use this link to register: http://bit.ly/GVS_2020
Demographic Dividends Through Communication
Ramatu Ada Ochekliye presented this paper at the 7th Nigerian Annual Population Lecture Series that happened in Abuja in 2019. The theme of the series was ‘Nigeria’s Population Issues: Harnessing 21st Century Innovations to Achieve Demographic Dividends’. *** In 1758 when Carl Linnaeus introduced the term, Homo sapiens, and the rest of the world accepted it as the only human species still in existence, the ‘most advanced of the lot’, the ‘wise man’, he probably didn’t know that a new species of humans were on their way to becoming the extant species. Granted, it took a couple of centuries before this new species came into existence. And unlike the Homo sapiens that were erect, with a skull rounded at the back of their head to denote a reduction in neck muscles and straight fingers, this new species was slightly bent over, with elongated necks and crooked fingers. These new species are…you. Today, it is very common place to see most people bent over their mobile devices, scouring the internet for the latest news, juiciest stories, salacious gossip or just to share their day with their significant other, their family, friends, acquaintances or people they want to – and I hope you pardon me for doing this – shoot their shot with. All of this is made possible by the internet, and its loudest child, social media. Social media is the most commonly used mode of communication in the world’s fourth industrial revolution today. It is a sure-fire way to reach millions – and dare I say, billions – of people at the very same time. It is also very intimate, allowing you to be ensconced in a different world with just one person. I have a theory for why social media is such a powerful, albeit addictive tool, for communication. But to really explain it, we have to go all the way back to the first industrial revolution. It was a time when mechanization had just begun to gain grounds in agriculture, extraction, and transportation. Granted, a lot of these weren’t happening in Africa or even Nigeria; in fact, we were on our way to decades of colonization. But there is a link that brings us to the Nigeria that we have today. So back to my story. The first industrial revolution saw an acceleration in human and economic exchanges. However, there was a gap that was still missing; communication. People could only communicate with each other either by being in the same space as each other, writing letters, or sending out emissaries (what we would call town criers). The second revolution brought on bigger gains in industrialization across many parts of Europe, helping them solidify the gains they made prior to colonizing many countries, and setting them as world powers. During this period which ran between the late 1800s and early 1990s, the telegraph and the telephone were invented, making long distance communication a bit easier. And the era of the newspaper was born. Communication with individuals and groups of people never seemed easier. You could walk to any phone booth and call anyone or just pick up a newspaper to find out what was happening. But as good as this was, it still presented basic communication with many constraints. Then the third revolution brought on the rise of electronics with transistors and microprocessors, telecommunication and the invention of computers and maybe, birthed the digital revolution that began in the middle of the 20th century. Radios, television…big opportunities to reach millions of people at the same time. Think NTA Network news where we all watched the most recent happenings in the country at 9pm daily, or the Presidential broadcast on Radio Nigeria on Workers and Independence Days yearly. But interpersonal communication still posed a problem. It had similar constraints like the first industrial revolution and if you didn’t have call units or a phone at home, you couldn’t make calls to people. Thankfully, there was another option that continued to remain relevant through all these; the letter. We still wrote to friends and families and – even pen pals that were total strangers – with our ‘golden pens from our golden baskets of love’ and responded with a ‘doxology’. And finally, we came to the fourth industrial revolution and the internet was invented. This was a major game changer for everything, but especially for how communication began to happen. Everything was faster, easier, relatively cheaper, more private yet, more able to reach even more people at the very same time. The birth of chat sites – think Yahoo messenger – revolutionized the entire way people interacted. Now, you could talk to different people from different parts of the world at the click of a keyboard. And as cyber cafés began to take over every street, access to people became even easier. Then the mobile phone was created, and all that information and interaction was brought to the tips of our fingers. So, my theory about human’s addiction to social media is not necessarily about the platforms but a salient need to communicate with people, to see and be seen, and to feel a connection to life that transcends ours. What then is the correlation between Nigeria, the industrial revolutions and social media today? Well, for starters…Nigeria really didn’t take off with the revolutions because one, Nigeria didn’t even exist as a nation during the first revolution; two, it was a collection of colonies in the second revolution; three, it gained independence as the third revolution began to give way to the fourth; and four, Nigeria is trying to catch up with the rest of the world in terms of technological advancements. What is clear however is that Nigeria picked the aspects of communication that came with each revolution and adopted it quickly. Our town criers gave way to traditional media which is gradually giving way to new media and with an estimated 15 – 20 million active users of the internet in the country, communication using social media
Bad Roads and Their Connection to Poverty: A Case of Leleyi Gwari Community in Abuja
Cars struggling on very bad road.Image Credit: Guardian Nigeria Newspaper By Ojonugwa Yahaya from HipCity Innovation Centre In every given geographical area occupied by a population of people, either large or small, the first thing that indicates the presence of said people is an access road. Road is very important to human development and the importance of it cannot be over-emphasized. Roads make a crucial contribution to economic development and growth and bring important social benefits to every society. Good road networks are of vital importance as they provide access to agricultural market, opens corridors to employment when businesses spring up along paved roads, attracts social, health and educational services to a given area, therefore serving as a good catalyst in fighting against poverty. Roads open up shadowed areas to new business opportunities and stimulate economic and social development. For these reasons, road infrastructure is the most important of all public assets. Across many states of the federation and the Federal Capital Territory, the lack of access roads, especially in agrarian communities, contributes to the huge post-harvest loss experienced by farmers. The deplorable conditions of many of our roads in the hinterlands inhibit farmers access to markets, therefore impacting on food supply and as well as discouraging farmers from cultivating in commercial quantity. This is the exact scenario Leleyi Gwari community people find themselves in. Roads in Leleyi Gwari. They Get progressively worse when the rains come in.Image Credit: Ojonugwa Yahaya BACKGROUND (LELEYI GWARI) Leleyi Gwari is an indigenous agrarian community under Pai ward, located in Kwali Area Council of the Federal Capital Territory. Leleyi Gwari has existed for over 50 years before the geographical space known as Abuja became Nigeria’s Federal Capital Territory. The people of Leleyi are predominantly the Gwaris’, though they have other ethnic group dwelling among them which includes the Gbagyis’, Nupe, Hausa, Tiv, Ibos, Ganagana, Birom, Bassa, Angas, Mada, Fulani and Tarok. Leleyi Gwari has a population of over 4000 people. The common agricultural practices in Leleyi are crops planting (Maize, yam, rice, pepper, okra, soybean, watermelon, tomatoes, guinea corn, cassava, groundnut, melon, and bene seed); Animal husbandry (fish farming, cattle, goats, poultry and sheep). In the over 50 years of Leleyi Gwari’s existence the people have not enjoyed good access road, and this has placed huge limitation on the marketability of their farm produce. It is hard for interested buyers of agricultural products to access the community and those that managed to find their way to the community tend to price the products at very low and discouraging prices, making a mockery of the sacrifices and work done by the farmers. The option of moving their agricultural produce to the market such as Kwali and Gwagwalada is another hard nut to crack due to the bad nature of the Leleyi road and when they manage to take the product to the market, the cost of transportation takes a huge chunk of any profit they make from sales as transportation charge is high due to the bad road. This is everyday experience of the Leleyi people and other farmers across many communities in Nigeria who go through the rigors of farming to make food available to the nation. Many of them live in poverty; barely making enough profit after all the hard work to take care of their needs and that of their family who are dependent on them. According to the people of Leleyi Gwari, they have written letters to the Kwali Area Council on several occasions seeking for intervention but no response till date. Poor road infrastructure in communities does not only affect production and distribution of farm products. It also negatively impacts the development of rural areas generally. The poor road condition in Leleyi Gwari community makes it difficult for the farmers to have access to intervention aid and agro-services such as training and education, fertilizers, improved seedlings etc. The construction of well-paved standard roads in Leleyi Gwari community will have direct impact on the productivity of farmers; because of the ease in transporting farm products to markets and quicker access to farms output would largely increase. With good access road, agricultural extension workers can easily reach the people with information and agricultural innovations that will help the farmers prevent and control disease outbreaks, improve crop growth, new improved seed varieties etc. Research has shown that farmers who have access to high yielding crops that are resistant to pests and diseases tend to produce more and avoid losses, but how will rural farmers such as the leleyi people become aware when they cannot be reached? Good access roads have multiplier benefits and the absence of it also have multiplied consequences, it is on this grounds that the people of Leleyi Gwari community are calling on the Kwali Area Council, Federal Capital Territory Administration (FCTA) to commence plans for the construction of the Leleyi Gwari Road which also serves as a feeder road to neighboring communities.
Addressing Workplace Harassment
Photo by August de Richelieu from Pexels For some reason, the thought of a colleague I used to have came into my head. And it was followed by such immense disgust that I had to take long, deep breaths to calm myself. He – of course it was a man – was the definition of classless. I want to call him ‘dumb dumb’ but I am learning to be nicer to people. So, I will settle with Mr. X. Mr. X believed that he could say whatever he wanted to me and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand where he got the nerve from. He annoyed me to no end and while it is sad, I was a bit glad when he was laid off. Okay. I know…you need context. Let me explain why he revulsed me so. I had started what was a really great opportunity to work and grow and I was excited to be able to contribute to areas of the global goals that tied directly to my personal mantra and life plans. Since I was new, I focused on learning the ropes of this new career path and navigating the office interaction and boundaries. For the most part, I was polite but relatively aloof in my engagement with many of my colleagues. With this background, you can imagine my demeanor when Mr. X came to my office to chit chat. I was cool as I answered his questions until he brought up a sexual innuendo. I can’t even remember what it was but my eyes bulged, ready to eviscerate him on the spot where he stood. But… I paused. Could he actually have said what I thought he said? Maybe I was reading meaning to things that just weren’t there. His statement could have been harmless for all I knew. So, I tittered and went back to my computer, hoping he would take it as the cue to leave me alone. He didn’t. Mr. X. continued to make suggestive statements that confirmed that my first instinct was right. At this point, I could feel the steam rising and I knew I was going to blowout. Thankfully, another colleague came in and the conversation changed, prompting him to leave my office. In my head, I thanked whatever God he worshipped. Mr. X. had saved himself from the caustic end of my tongue and I had saved myself from revealing that beneath my calm exterior, there was a volcano that didn’t need that kind of trigger. I had forgotten about Mr. X. for a while until we attended an event together. At lunch, another colleague came to me and raucously mentioned how I had gained weight. I laughed about it as I walked away from him. He continued to follow me, making remarks about my weight and laughing cluelessly. Mr. X. decided to join in the conversation. So, there I was, with two men following me as I picked food I wanted to eat, commenting on my weight and laughing. My tight smile did nothing for them. Neither did my silence. But by God, I was ready to explode when Mr. X. mentioned how the fat was going ‘into all the right places’. I stopped. What. The. Bloody. Hell?! I knew I was going to explode but again, I was at lunch with a bunch of colleagues, guests we were hosting and other development partners and stakeholders. So…I walked away. But I swore to myself that the next time Mr. X. tried me, I was going to check him faster than he could spell his own name. And because harassers would always stay true to character, it wasn’t long before an opportunity presented itself to me. Few weeks later, we had a human resource training where I shared my thoughts about badgering people to marry or give birth. I expressed why I thought it was harassment and why the practice should not be allowed. As the day wore on, sexual harassment was touched on and the human resource manager mentioned why it was important to call out sexual harassment without being contentious. Now, she wasn’t saying we should let it slide. She said we should firmly call it out for what it was without resorting to raised voices, physical altercations or worse. Her point was that, some people may not know that they were sexually harassing another person and the first option should always be to correct…except of course if the situation was dire. It was a learning session for me because my first instinct is always to fight. But in the workplace, fighting is not the way to go, especially if there is a possibility that the situation can be misconstrued. No sooner had we left the training center than Mr. X. followed me to my office. He said the way I spoke was ‘like one of those feminists’. I laughed and assured him that I was a feminist. He began to throw questions he thought would trip me and I kept responding with, ‘Oh! That is what they do? I didn’t know that.’ Though my responses were sarcastic, each question served to rile me up. Just when I wanted to mention an excuse to get him out of my office, he threw the grenade: ‘Is it true that feminists know exactly how to please a man? That they can give a man good sex?’ Santa. Maria! I knew I was within my rights to cuss him out and teach him a lesson he would never forget but I inhaled…and side stepped the bomb. I raised my head from my computer, looked him straight in his eyes, and said in as measured a tone as I could muster, ‘Mr. X. This is not an appropriate conversation for the workplace.’ You could tell that he was shocked, even though he tried to laugh it off. He continued to try
When No One Is Looking
Photo by Gantas Vaičiulėnas from Pexels As long as I can remember, I have always cared about the issues that affect Africa, Africans and people of African dissent, with special focus on how these issues affect women and children. Even as a child in primary school, I can remember expressing anger at people who treated women and children poorly and standing up for the girls in my class. It would not be far-fetched to assume I was born this way, having what can be described as a gnawing need to lend my voice to women and children’s issues. I was probably around 10 years old when I learned about basic human rights and the government’s role in protecting them. Without meaning to, that became my Bible and code of conduct. I started creating content from a very young age. I wrote stories and school plays that centered women and children in roles that were not usually associated with their sex or age. These stories became church dramas because for most of my teenage years, I found expression in the church. Granted, most of what I created then was quite gruff and had a diamond-in-the-rough kind of feel but a central theme shone through all my pieces: women and children were human in themselves and needed to be treated with the full respect accorded to them by their basic rights. I remember a play I wrote that we performed in church. It started with the parents of the lead character – a young teen – finding out that she was pregnant. Rather than be judgmental, it promoted allowing yourself to be hurt if your child gets pregnant ‘out of wedlock’ but, loving (and supporting) the child regardless. It showed that children were themselves overwhelmed by the consequences of their actions and beating them or kicking them out of the house was not a fair way to handle the issue. This play connected so well with people that the way teen pregnancies were handled – a problem that was predominant in the community where the church was situated – became markedly different. It was for this openness that I was chosen when I was about 14 years to be part of a peer-education capacity building session on complete sexuality education. This opened my mind’s eye to the Millennium Development Goals and a world bigger than the things my environment had constrained it to. I began to actively promote these goals because I was: unhappy that the world didn’t take the eradication of extreme poverty and hunger as seriously as it should; wondering what could be done to achieve universal primary education; sure I needed to actively promote the idea of gender equality and the need to empower women; broken at the rate of child and maternal mortality and wondering how I could help; hated all discriminatory acts to people living with HIV/AIDS in a world where it was okay to do so; didn’t want anyone to die from Malaria or any other disease that could easily be prevented with small lifestyle changes; and, hated that our environment was gradually becoming dirty and unsustainable as a result of poor sanitation due to reduced enforcement of communal environmental protection activities. These issues became my issues. They mattered to me. And I wanted to do something about them. As I grew from teenager to young adult, I began to refine the areas that I was interested in. While I wanted to work in the field to directly help women and children, I knew it was cost heavy and living on the poverty line myself at that time, I didn’t think there was much I could do to help these people. So, I chose a path that centered more on creating content that could cause a mind shift in the general public and change behaviors that put women in boxes marked, ‘second class citizens’. I continued to write stories and plays for church, making sure to include the women empowerment nuggets in the overall message of the Christian faith. With the advent of social media, I found a bigger outlet for my work…especially as I was questioning faith and removing myself from the church. I began to share my views – my very gruff and many times, antagonistic views – on my social media platforms. A friend told me about blogs and the possibilities they held for massive, and maybe even global, reach. So, I learned about this new frontier of communication and started my blog: Shades of Us. I continued to evolve as a person, finding more perspectives to human rights and seeking even more succinct ways to communicate my ideas around them. When I heard the word ‘feminist’ during Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TedX Talk – We Should All Be Feminists – I knew this was the word that perfectly described exactly who I was and the issues that mattered to me. So here I was: Ramatu Ada Ochekliye, creating content around the Sustainable Development Goals and hoping I could change the world with my words. But, reality check. The world really doesn’t want to be changed. If the world has its way, it will continue to be patriarchal, misogynistic and abusive to women and children. It would continue to express hate against people whose sexuality is different from the accepted norm. It would continue to be intolerant of people’s rights to association, religion, belief and dignity. This is why, my work – and the work of other feminists, human rights activists and advocates, and anyone who just believes in the basic rights of all human beings across the world – can be really tasking. Nobody tells you that it is easier to maintain the status quo, as oppressive as it is, than it is changing anything. And because of this, many activists suffer the painful burnout that comes with wondering if their work even means anything. Oh! There are many reasons to keep
The God Complex of the Old
Photo by Muhammadtaha Ibrahim Ma’aji from Pexels In many African countries, young people are raised to have respect for their elders. However, the kind of respect that is expected borders on complete deference, creating a situation where, by default, older people are almost always assumed to be right on all issues, while younger people are expected to acquiesce their views, choices and decision in favor of the more ‘mature’ ones of the old. Respecting older people is good. In fact, it is a testament of good morals and upbringing to be respectful of people who are older than you. Extending a greeting first, helping an older person with their load, getting up to let a them sit in a bus, holding the door open for them, being courteous etc. are ways to show respect to people who are older than you. That being said, people should respect each other, their rights, choices, views, perspectives etc. because it is the right thing to do… regardless of a person’s age. One would think this is such a simple thing to expect. But, it is not. This request for mutual respect causes such a huge friction in many of our African communities. There is this general belief that old age confers a wisdom and maturity to people that must not be questioned or tampered with; and so, must be respected completely. In fact, a popular adage punctuates this view: ‘What an old person sees while sitting down, a young person would have to climb a tree to see it’. As a result of this belief, many young people are expected to be silent before their elders, accepting whatever edict they dish out…unquestioned. And if they must speak, they must only echo the thoughts of their elders while bending over backwards in a servile manner showing they are grateful to be able to talk before their elders. Young people are not expected to have their own opinions or deign to disagree with the wisdom and maturity of the old. Where they do, they are considered poorly raised, rude, uncouth and whatever other adjective they can come with. This would not be a problem if it wasn’t creating stunted communities that are unable to fully come into the 21st Century and its opportunities therein. In the social sphere, people are taking academic courses they don’t want to because their parents insist that is what they should do. This means they go into the labor force lacking the required passion that could cause them to create solutions for communal, State or national problems. Many people still do not have autonomy to choose if (or when) they get married, have children, or generally live their lives because the old in the lives – their parents, religious and traditional leaders or plain old communal busybodies – meddle in the choices they need to make for themselves. So, these young people accept the edicts they are given and live a miserable life with the knowledge that they themselves would get old and can then perpetuate the cycle of control. But it gets worse. Nowhere is the God complex associated with old age more prominent than in governance and leadership. Take for example what is happening across many countries and cities in Africa. In spite of all the conversations that promote the inclusion of young people in government, policy formulation, implementation and monitoring towards demographic dividends, many governments are persistently unwilling to make room for that inclusion. The reason many of these African leaders are unwilling to facilitate this inclusion is because in their view, youth is without experience and the maturity conferred on one by old age is the only ingredient needed to lead people. Because it is an open secret that they do not have any other ingredient to develop their countries in their bag. In Nigeria, until May 31, 2018, most people could not run for the highest office – the Presidency – unless they were at least 40 years old. And one had to be at least 30 years old to vie for elective positions in the House of Assembly. The reality however was that, most people who vied for these positions were well into their 50s (at least). When young people wanted to express their constitutional rights to run for elective offices, they were always reminded of their age and muscled out. The Age Reduction Act – popularly known as the Not Too Young to Run Act – has changed this, but it is still a long (long) road to seeing more young people who present themselves on the ballot win the votes of people. While it is clear that youth is not a determining factor for innovation or the much-needed development of any African country, it is definitely is a step in the right direction. Most African countries have a young population, so it shouldn’t be weird that young people are the drivers of change; or at least, part of the system that drives change. They should contribute to the policies that determine the fates of their lives. They should choose the education and career paths that best suits their skills and desires so they are actively contributing to the growth and development of themselves, their communities, states, regions and nations as a whole. And by God, they should be allowed to choose their spouses – or even if they want to get married at all – so that their mental health is catered to. Old age is great. Everyone aspires to get to a ripe old age before they die. But the goal of old age should be to rest after giving all of one’s energy while young. It shouldn’t be a time to hustle for elective positions where reduced strength and maybe failing health may affect productivity towards the achievement of goals. It shouldn’t be a time to control people and be demi-gods in the lives of younger people. There will always
