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. She was cut! Stay tuned.
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. She was cut! Stay tuned.
