Social Mobilization in Guediawaye

The following is a guest post from AUA Mosaic Scholarship recipient Alisa Hamilton. She is currently volunteering with Tostan in Senegal. To find an amazing opportunity like this one, search the AUA Directory of Recommended Organizations© today!

A couple weeks ago, I was fortunate to be able to attend a social mobilization event organized by a Community Management Committee (CMC) in Guediawaye, a suburb of Dakar where Tostan has recently finished its three year Community Empowerment Program (CEP).

Guediawaye water basin. This area floods when it rains and poses huge health/safety hazards.

In addition to education on human rights, health and hygiene, literacy, math, and project management, part of the CEP is the formation of local organizations called CMCs. CMCs are made up of local leaders and are responsible for carrying out projects to better the community even after the completion of the Tostan program. Some examples of CMC projects include constructing a well, fundraising for a millet grinder, selling millet, creating an irrigation system for a community garden, making and selling soap, etc. CMCs focus much of their effort on “income-generating activities” (IGAs), but they are also responsible for maintaining the health and safety of their community. Each CMC is made up of several commissions (health, child protection, education, the environment, etc.) which raise money and lobby for new projects. For example, the Health Commission may lobby for a new poste de santé or small health clinic. The Education Commission may raise money and purchase school supplies. Guediaweye’s Environment Commission is lobbying for a new fence around the water basin to keep children and animals from falling into the water.

Micro-garden and sewing machines used by CMC members for income-generating activities.

At the social mobilization event, Guediawaye’s CMC, which is made up primarily of women (way cool!), showcased its recent projects, which include cereal preservation, soap making, and fabric dying among other income-generating activities. But before attending the main event, Elaine, Lucy (Tostan volunteers), and I interviewed the CMC Coordinator, Nogoye, and another key member, Marième, for the article Eliane was writing for Tostan’s blog. Marième is blind, and her success has made her a local celebrity. She attended all of Tostan’s CEP sessions and participated in every activity except those concerning literacy. She and other CMC members in Guediawaye are urging Tostan to translate materials into Braille so that people who are visually impaired can fully participate.

From left to right: CMC member, Marième, Nogoye, and Oumou, a CEP facilitator.

Even though Marième cannot see, she sells vegetables and braids hair for a small profit. At the end of our interview, I asked Marième how she could count money if she could not see it. I knew that she would be able to but thought she might enjoy showing off her skills. We role played me buying a handkerchief from her. Instead of giving her 100 CFA, the price she stated, I handed her 50 CFA, a smaller coin. She immediately called me out. To make things more difficult, I handed her a 2,000 CFA bill. She took less than 10 seconds to name the bill. Then she pulled out a handful of change from her purse and counted it out rapid fire. The seven or so women in the room cheered her on. The exercise was a lot of fun and made every one laugh.

Beaded sandals and bagged cereal made by CMC members.

Eliane, Lucy, and I headed to the main event after the interviews. First we looked at the table of products made by the CMC (bags of millet, soap, beaded sandals, and dyed fabric). Then we took our places in plastic chairs under the big tent. The MC introduced the event, and then Nogoye, Marième, and other community leaders gave small speeches. After the opening words, there was a small competition where the MC asked audience members (mostly girls and women who participated in the CEP) questions relating to the Tostan program. Those who responded correctly chose from a table of prizes, which included soap, hair gel, and sanitary napkins. For the quiz questions, the MC had the audience members read sentences in Wolof, answer simple math problems, and answer questions about human rights.

Audience members and a CEP participant wearing her classroom tunic.

After the competition, a handful of girls acted out a skit in which a woman, Aminata, learns that she has HIV. During the play, the girls acting giggled after their lines and audience members often laughed in the way you would when someone you know really well is acting in an informal skit. I imagine that the situation addressed in the play does not often result in such a happy ending. The stigma surrounding HIV/AIDs in rural/suburban Senegalese communities is significant largely because of misinformation and lack of education. In addition, any illness of a family member is a hush-hush topic not talked about openly. The fact that these girls acted out such a taboo issue in front of a large audience is huge and signifies a milestone in health education and reducing the stigma of HIV/AIDs in Guediawaye.

I asked Nogoye, the CMC coordinator, why all of the Tostan participants in this town were women. She told me that the men and boys were usually at work or at school. Tostan’s Community Empowerment Program gives people without access to formal education, who are usually female, the opportunity to learn and better their. One could argue that instead of providing informal education, Tostan should be working at the systemic level to make sure that women and girls do have access to formal education. I’m not sure which approach is best, but from what I’ve seen and read, working at the grassroots level is more sustainable. If decisions and social movements come from the bottom up, then systemic/policy change is more likely to be long lasting than if some outside party pushes reform from the top down. Though this process may take a long time, the results are long term benefits instead of temporary successes.

The highlight of the afternoon may have been when word got out that I could dance Uusa (pronounced “yooza”), the current popular dance in Senegal. The MC called me up to dance in front of the audience. I told him I couldn’t dance without music, so he quickly had the DJ put on some tunes. So I danced. People clapped, cheered, and laughed hysterically. There’s nothing funnier than a toubab chick trying to dance to Senegalese music. I really have no idea how to dance Uusa; I just mimic what I see other people doing. Apparently, I do alright because people always ask me, “How did you learn to dance so well?” Either I actually look like I know what I’m doing or they’re just humoring me – probably the latter. I don’t mind, however, because my dancing seems to make people very happy, which makes me happy.

After Uusa-ing off the dance floor, Eliane, Lucy, and I said good bye to our hosts and hopped back into the Tostan car for the 30 minute bumpy ride back to Dakar. The afternoon was very pleasant and a great way to take a break from the office. I would love to go back and visit the CMC women again. I’m sure they would all recognize me as the dancing toubab. There are worse things to be remembered for!

Ba beneen yoon!

 

 

Noah Connects with Muslim Students through Student Action For Refugees

The following is a message from guest blogger Noah Schumer.

While studying abroad at the American University in Cairo (AUC) in the fall of 2009, I volunteered with the university’s chapter of Student Action For Refugees (STAR), an organization run by AUC graduate students that recruits English speakers to teach language courses to local refugees once per week at the school’s Tahrir Square campus. The program is free and most semesters more people sign-up than the number of available classrooms will allow for. I hadn’t planned on volunteering with STAR prior to my arrival in Cairo, but when a fellow study abroad student told me about the program during our orientation week I was excited by the opportunity to add a service component to my experience living in Egypt.

After attending a general information meeting and brief training session, I was assigned to teach a class of twenty-five students, a diverse mix of adults from various African, Middle Eastern, and South Asian nations. My co-teacher, Ashish, was a fellow student from Tufts University who grew up in India.

The vast majority of our students were practicing Muslims, and given that our first week of classes coincided with the final days of Ramadan, STAR organized an iftar to allow teachers and students to get to know each other. One of our students, Abdul Wahid, hailed from Nuristan, a province in northeast Afghanistan. After talking to him for a few minutes, he pulled out his cell phone to show me pictures of his village and his family, all wearing traditional Nuristani tribal garb. “You see,” he said, smiling, “you are not the only one having to adapt to Cairo.”  Another of our students, Ali, was a middle-aged gentleman from Baghdad with a young son. He later stayed after class several times, telling us the latest news that his family, still in Iraq, was reporting to him, and asking questions of us about life in America, where an NGO was working to relocate him. For many Americans, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are abstract events in distant locations.  Ali and Abdul Wahid’s depictions of their family’s situations humanized the conflicts for me in ways that reading about them could not.

The program supplied us with copies of “Haroun and the Sea of Stories,” a children’s book by Salman Rushdie, to distribute and read in class. Ashish and I, however, decided to open our first session with a discussion of President Obama’s speech at Cairo University in June of that year in order to facilitate a more mature conversation. Given that we were several years younger than our students — many of whom had not been in a classroom environment for a long time – we knew we needed to work to earn their respect. Several of the students spoke to President Obama’s eloquence and the powerful message of American’s having the tolerance to elect an African-American president with the middle name Hussein. “When I heard about the election, I was very proud of Americans,” one student, named Habib, told me. Others, while praising the president’s words, warned that he still faced the responsibility of translating his promises into actions. As the only American in the room, I sometimes felt the burden of, if not defending, at least presenting American viewpoints. At one moment during the discussion, Habib passionately questioned what he saw as the U.S. government inconsistency in promoting democracy in some parts of the world while supporting autocrats in others. Whether or not I agreed with my student’s opinions, I felt it was important that they knew – regardless of if I was listening to them or engaging in debate – that I was genuinely interested in and respectful of their opinions, thereby to counter the unfortunate reputation of American arrogance that exists in many places. 

Ashish and I taught level five – the program’s highest level – so instead of having to focus the majority of our time on grammatical minutiae, our classes were based on reading and oral comprehension, and allowing our students time to simply practice speaking English. Reading “Haroun and the Sea of Stories,” a book heavy on metaphors and motifs, out loud in class offered a chance for the students to improve their understanding of non-literal English writing. At the end of the semester, we were charged with designing a final exam; if the students passed our exam, they graduated from the program. Ultimately, around half the class passed, rendering them eligible to apply to various AUC scholarship programs for graduates of STAR, while the other half returned to level five the following semester for more instruction.

After returning to the United States, I’ve been able to stay in touch with my former students through email and facebook.  During the revolution in Egypt earlier this year, I had several email exchanges with Abdul Wahid, who updated me on the rapidly evolving political situation and offered first hand depictions of the scene in downtown Cairo.  My experience reinforced my belief that a vital component to being an active and engaged American citizen in the twenty-first century is having the ability to build bridges across racial, religious, ethnic, and cultural lines. As I learned from my time in the classroom, interactions between individuals allow the dispelling of stereotypes about “the other” and the making of positive change through engagement across cultures – something that, in our increasingly interconnected world, is as important now as ever.

The Importance and Beauty of Service

Today’s post is a special message from Benjamin Orbach, Director, America’s Unofficial Ambassadors 

Here’s a nice article from today’s New York Times by David Brooks. It is good to see stories that remind us that part of the beauty of service is the sacrifice and humility involved. Part of the volunteer experience, particularly in the developing world, is being knocked from your comfort level, forced to re-evaluate positions or perhaps realities that you believed to be true, and challenged to respond and contribute something of value. Success on this front is why I think so many of us choose to volunteer again and again.

I liked that Brooks’ column also acknowledged that one American (or any other national for that matter) can’t swoop in like superman and save things. Local leaders and citizens hold the key to their long-term development solutions. If we as volunteers in development are successful, then we support those leaders with our resources, technical expertise, and other intangibles as they craft community level solutions. At America’s Unofficial Ambassadors, we think there is a lot we can do to be supportive in this way and to dispel stereotypes in the process.

Last thing, the volunteer that Brooks mentions didn’t have to google “Teach Abroad.” She could have just searched the AUA Directory to find some terrific opportunities to teach English in schools, orphanages, and youth centers across the Muslim World.

Lindsay Prepares to Teach English and Art in Nablus

The following is a guest blog from AUA Mosaic Scholarship recipient Lindsay Michael. She is currently volunteering with Project Hope in the Palestinian Territories. To find an opportunity like this one, search the AUA Directory of Recommended Organizations©.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I need a map to know where I am. I’ve always been a bit of a nomad and my view of the horizon never looks the same for long. I’m fond of regular changes in scenery and I travel with an open heart and an open mind. My name is Lindsay and at this very moment, I am preparing to move to the beautiful city of Nablus to teach English and art deep in the heart of the West Bank of the Palestinian Territories. 

In less than a week, I will be joining a team of local and international volunteers brought together to lead educational, artistic, and recreational programs for children and members of the community in the greater Nablus area. The organization is called Project Hope and was founded in 2003 with a vision to empower the Palestinian youth who have grown up amidst violence and occupation by providing them with the tools to reach their full potential. Although I’ll be doing much of the teaching, I feel that it will be me who has received the greatest education when my time volunteering nears completion.

It was through Project Hope that I was introduced to the America’s Unofficial Ambassadors initiative.  Before applying for a Mosaic Scholarship, I wanted to be absolutely sure that I could effectively represent what they stood for. I share the same values and beliefs outlined by Creative Learning when it comes to tolerance, opportunity for all, and an overall belief in empowering people. I was moved by learning of an organization that saw the importance of building peace by improving relationships between America and the Muslim World.  As I embark on a journey of a lifetime with the support of family, friends, the Creative Learning staff, and the financial help, most notably in the form of a Mosaic Scholarship, I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and hope.

Preparing for My Journey

Looking down at the Red Cloud backpack before me, I am impressed at what I have managed to squeeze into this miracle bag. Packed into this bag, along with some art supplies, and an English grammar book, are several packets of seasoning bagged and wrapped carefully to prevent opening. Flavored dips, chili powder, and spicy mesquite rubs have all been placed in the depths of my backpack right next to the box of cornbread, and quick-bake chocolate cake. I understand traveling to the Middle East with spices may seem like bringing sand to the beach, but there is a method to my madness.

From what I’ve been told throughout my travels, an overwhelming majority of people have the impression that the American diet leaves much to be desired. When asked to describe a typical American meal, the response is often a spot-on description of the dollar menu at McDonald’s, Burger King, or occasionally K.F.C. The common factor being the emphasis on greasy, unhealthy, hurried meals centered on quasi meat products. This is where my spice stash comes in. In an attempt to break some culinary stereotypes, I am bringing seasonings from the U.S.  I want to share my love for traditional North American food, be that soul food or a Thanksgiving dinner equipped with the “three sisters”, corn, beans, and squash. Great friendships are established while sharing a delicious meal and some of the best conversations happen around a dinner table.

Just as important as introducing a few entrees of my own, will be learning how to cook with the staple ingredients found in Palestinian dishes. I am looking forward to studying the ways of Palestinian women working their magic in the kitchen. One can learn a lot hanging around chefs because every recipe comes with a story.  When I return home with all the new spices I’ve grown fond of and a memory full of anecdotes to match, I’ll be able to entice people with my own spin on some traditional Palestinian fare. With that, I can possibly influence public opinion one dinner party and taste bud at a time.

Expected Outcomes

The majority of reactions from individuals who I’ve shared my travel plans with have been absolutely supportive. People are anxious to hear how it really is. They know my intentions and are confident that I will “do right” by the American people…”do right” by ALL people. I’m there to teach. I’m there to learn.  I’m there to listen to the stories and share my own.

I hope that by following my journey, people are inspired to discuss topics that typically get little attention or are commonly understood to have harmful, negative undertones. I hope these conversations compel people to explore the best parts of themselves by connecting along human lines. What better time to take into account the idea that the actions of one person can truly make all the difference in establishing relationships that surmount the often callous interactions between those who represent us on a larger scale. As I meet new people over the next few months who will undoubtedly have a huge impact on my life, I will keep in mind that I have a responsibility to do the same for others.  How amazing it will be to celebrate our achievements in the near future. 

BRAC School: Bridging the Gap Between High Need and Limited Access

The following is a guest blog from AUA Mosaic Scholarship recipient Alison Horton. She is currently volunteering with BRAC in Bangladesh. To find an opportunity like this one, search the AUA Directory of Recommended Organizations©.

After a couple weeks in the field working on sanitation, microfinance, legal aid and agriculture programs, I was really looking forward to my first visit to a BRAC school.  As it turns out, the students were quite excited themselves. 

We had dismounted our rickshaws at the edge of the village whose school we would be visiting.  We began the twenty-minute walk through lush greenery and muddy trails and worked our way past clay homes and tin shacks.  The path led us to a picturesque clearing surrounded by banana and mango trees, home to the village’s BRAC school.  Outside the one-room tin schoolhouse, we saw the students’ colorful sandals arranged in a perfect circle.  Their teacher later explained that each morning, they lay out their sandals just so, to instill ideals of routine, order and care.  We added our shoes to the display and entered the school.

As soon as we appeared in the doorway, the children enthusiastically and respectfully stood up to greet us, and quickly executed the first of many traditional song and dance performances they had prepared for us.  The teacher explained that they had learned of our upcoming visit three months prior, and had since begged to practice the routines every single day.  Now that the day was upon us, most of the girls had arrived to school an hour early, dressed in their family’s nicest clothes.  They looked beautiful and their performances were absolutely lovely.

Throughout the day, we interviewed the teacher, played with the students and spoke with many of the parents.  We learned about BRAC’s unique approach to education, and observed first hand how well it works.  BRAC addresses education as a root cause of poverty, and hopes to break into the perpetual cycle by greatly improving the educational opportunities to students throughout rural Bangladesh.  High dropout rates, the cultural prevalence of early marriage, and the unavailability of schools and/or transportation in rural areas have plagued the formal education sector for decades.

The BRAC education program hoped to supplement this government sector when it began in 1985 with the creation of the first 22 schools.  Today, there are more than 35,000 schools nation-wide, all run sustainably without any help from the government.  In its first fifteen years, the program reached more than 1.5 million students, 70 percent of whom were girls.

What’s more, BRAC schools consistently have impressive student-teacher ratios, incredible student retention rates and higher standardized test scores than their government school counterparts.  Yet, a BRAC education, though free to students and their families, costs $20 per year compared to a government school’s $52 per year.  It is BRAC’s unique model and innovative approaches that has created this anomaly, which seems almost too good to be true.

Before deciding to open a school in a particular village, BRAC officials (mostly women) meet with parents several times.  The parents learn about their children’s educational potential and promise to send them to school each day and attend monthly parent-teacher meetings.  Three mothers form a management committee with the teacher.  This committee checks in with the school regularly, and if a student is absent, they go to the student’s home to check on them.  A mother from the village is actually chosen and trained as the school’s teacher.  BRAC usually selects an uneducated woman and provides her with complete initial training and monthly refresher courses.  She receives a salary for this important job and becomes a hero in her village.

We had the chance to sit in a monthly refresher course at a BRAC regional office and were very impressed with the women’s abilities.

The school calendar and hours are set each season by the management committee and parents.  If needed, the school will run two shifts each day to keep class size under BRAC’s maximum of 33.  The hours are set according the families’ needs, often changing with each harvesting season.  The location of the one-room school is very carefully chosen – as close to students’ homes as possible.

In this particular schoolhouse, we asked the parents what their children did before the school was built.  Most children worked.  The boys were often field laborers and the girls were house help.  The closest government school is over 15 kilometers away, with no transportation provided.  Additionally, the school requires that students purchase a uniform, which is a significant financial deterrent for most families.  So, without this BRAC school, these vibrant and intelligent nine to twelve year old kids singing, dancing and practicing English with us would instead be working as day laborers, with no chance of an education.

BRAC has always exhibited a completely apolitical approach and maintains an amicable relationship with the Bangladesh government.  BRAC’s vision is a future without the need for aid.  Their schools, like many of their programs, are working to bridge the gap between the country’s high need and the government’s limited potential.  Hopefully, in time, the government will learn from and incorporate BRAC schools into the formal sector and all students will officially have access to proper education.  Perhaps when these happy, bright and talented young students eventually have children of their own, they will have multiple quality education options.

I also had the chance to visit a government school, and of course those uniform-clad students are just as vibrant and adorable.

Wow Alison! This seems like an awesome experience – Great job!