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  • From Rugs to Riches, African Women Artisans Are Weaving Their Way to Financial Independence

    From Rugs to Riches, African Women Artisans Are Weaving Their Way to Financial Independence

    By Seth Onyango, bird story agency

    It is evening and daylight is fading fast along the Jinja-Tororo road as it passes through Buwenda Village, Uganda. The road is dry, littered with shrivelled leaves dancing on vacant murram-sidewalks − their rustling clearly audible as they roll along the dusty ground. The lush green vegetation surrounding the neighbourhood is the source of birdsong as the day winds down. The weaverbirds in the neighbourhood are still busy, as are the women in the textile workshop at Kilombera Weaving.

    Kilombera is the local name of a weaverbird found in the area. The male birds spend hours weaving an intricate and attractively designed nest in a desperate bid to attract a mate.

    The Kilombera workshop, on the other hand, has both men and women practitioners, all busy producing ornate kikoy cloths, baskets, bags and other beautiful products that are destined for overseas markets, either via visiting tourists or via exporters who are finding ready markets for beautiful handmade goods, all over the globe.

    On a typical day, activities at the workshop reach their apogee around noon. Betty Korutindo is immersed in her work, arranging yarns on a beam to form the patterns that will be threaded into a loom. The yarns are organised into stripes, requiring laborious threading.

    Korutindo is one of a growing number of workers in the industry whose fortunes have changed significantly since they joined the industry.

    They have been helped by the transformation of markets in Africa and elsewhere, thanks to the growing opportunity for online sales by both individuals, who might have come across African products on a trip to the continent, as well as major retailers and even luxury brands.

    For some time, baskets and other handmade products from Africa have found buyers through Amazon, Wayfair, Etsy and on fair trade platforms, where they first got noticed.

    Now, luxury brands have joined the fray. Brands such as Prada, Chloé, Celine and Dolce & Gabbana are selling luxury woven tote bags inspired by Ghana’s Bolga and Kenya’s Kiondo handmade bags.

    Purchasing one online could set you back anywhere between 500 and 4,000 US dollars.

    Colourful handwoven African sisal baskets made by women’s co-operatives are also being sold on online marketplaces like the Africanmarketbaskets.com which sources products from artisans and sells them wholesale in the US and Canada.

    From Tanzania to Morocco to Ghana, weaving is helping to create African entrepreneurs, many of them women.

    In Somalia, the skill has also become a source of income and provided economic empowerment for many women in Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) camps while in Morocco, Beni rugs have gained such worldwide attention and soared in prices to such an extent that only the affluent can afford them.

    In Bahir Dar, Ethiopia, weaving has helped bridge the employment gap in the populous East African state, while in Akatarong’ot village in Kenya’s arid Turkana, a 30-year-old, mother of seven, Alice Korea has just received a monthly payment from the Hunger Safety Net Programme (HSNP), a government initiative. It is not much, but enough to buy her raw materials to support her basket weaving business, buy food and educate her children.

    With two children in high school, she is relieved to have a regular source of income — and the independence that comes with that.

    “I am so happy I can educate my kids and buy food. We don’t need charity and pity… we need the government to create a market for our products because key markets are far,” she said.

    She is in a group of women making baskets, mats and brooms which are transported to Kitale, the administrative town of Trans Nzoia County for large-scale trade — and then to the capital, Nairobi.

    The Akwete Women’s Weaving Cooperative in southeastern Nigeria has built a reputation for making hand-woven cloth (Akwete). Their motifs are created by a supplementary weft structure on a warp-faced, plain-weave ground, with the white and lurex enhanced with multi-coloured patterns. Women in Nigeria and elsewhere in Africa are increasingly choosing richly woven cloth like this for their wedding outfits, replacing imported “white wedding” wear.

    The same is happening in Tanzania, Togo, Burundi, Rwanda, Liberia and South Africa, where weaving has become a financial model that creates a cycle of entrepreneur-driven growth among women, resulting in permanent financial independence for the artisan.

    Back at Buwenda in Uganda, women working here are among those that have been able to abandon a way of life characterised by women staying at home to nurse children while their husbands went out to work.

    Today, these women have polished their craft to deliver making beautiful kikoys, baskets and bags and take home a fixed income to support their families.

    Korutindo’s journey is an incredible one, from stultifying poverty to community-wide influence.

    “Before I got this job, I used to be a stay-home mum but now life has changed and I can educate my kids and cater to other needs,” she said.

    At the other end of the workshop, Godfrey Dhafa engages a group of tourists placing their orders for hand-woven kikoys. The materials will be ready within three weeks of their stay in Uganda.

    A deal inked with Eco Mama Global (EMG), a conscious, grassroots organisation based in Vancouver, Canada, under which the latter will purchase products directly from the workshop and sell them abroad, has him in good spirits.

    “Our mission is to enhance the quality of living for families in poor rural areas through education of women involving environmental sustainability, permaculture, holistic health, natural birthing and yoga,” reads the organisation’s vision, in part.

    At the workshop, visitors are regularly awestruck by the richness of the products — which extend to scarves, shawls, mobile and tablet bags, changing mats, hooded towels, burp cloths and baby bibs.

    Some of their products take as long as a week to create, depending on the design. The level of artistry and intricacy achieved in the handloom fabrics is difficult to replicate and certain weaves/designs are still beyond the scope of modern machines.

    According to Dhafa, the advantages of the business are that it provides sustainable employment to a relatively small but skilled labour force, is eco-friendly and has the flexibility of small-scale production, while also being able to adapt to market requirements. It also establishes a bond between buyer and manufacturer.

    Here, here every weave has a human touch to it.

    bird story agency

    READ ALSO: “I Love Transforming People Into Rich Aunties” — A Week in the Life of a Textile Designer

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  • Kindly Drop Your Feminist Badge if You Don’t Know These 6 African Women

    Kindly Drop Your Feminist Badge if You Don’t Know These 6 African Women

    As we celebrate women’s month this year, Zikoko is all out for all the women breaking the bias. In this article, we are raising a toast to women from the 90s that made moves in their times. Here are a few of the African women that paved the way for us.

    1. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti (1900-1978)

    If you don’t know Funmilayo, I want you to go and fight your social studies teacher. This is the woman that gave us the legendary Fela Kuti. Funmilayo was an African feminist and dedicated her life to the cause. She organized tax strikes against economic policies negatively affecting women and was very vocal in the call for an end to colonial rule. To top all this up, she was the first Nigerian woman to drive a car. Yes, Funmilayo was the “It girl.”

    2. Yaa Asantewaa (1863-1923) — also known as  Queen Mother of the Ejisuhene

    Beyond being queen mother of the Asante people, Yaa was a badass woman. What do you think you’ll be doing at 60? As for Yaa, she was leading the famous Asante uprising in 1900 against the British. It had been a long fight against the Brish troops. They had taken over their gold mines and were after something dearly important. The British troops were in search of what the Asante people called the Golden Stool, a symbol of their independence. The troops went village to village in search of it and left destruction down every part they crossed. The last straw for Yaa was the attack on a village with defenseless children. After the attack, the council of elders was summoned and as queen mother, Yaa was present. 

    Now here’s the badass part. 

    At the meeting, the men were afraid of retaliation. The British troops were well-armed and ready to kill anyone. For Yaa, that wasn’t a factor. She told the men to stay back and asked only the women to fight. In March 1900, Yaa mobilised Asante troops, and for three months laid siege to the British mission at the fort of Kumasi. In the end, the British troops overpowered the Asante troops. Yaa was captured and remained in exile for 20 years. The Asante protectorate did not receive independence until 1957 — 36 years after Yaa’s death.  She might have lost the battle in 1900, but Yaa’s revolutionary act accounted for the fight to in Ghana. That’s why till today, she’s called “Keeper of the Golden Stool.” A queen we stan!

    RELATED: Four Months of Living Together and Hopefully We Don’t Kill Each Other

    3. Miriam Makeba (1932-2008)

    Feel free to call her mama Africa like the rest of us — yes, I’m claiming to be South African. Makeeba was a civil rights activist and singer. With growing up in a segregated town outside Johannesburg, Makeba was no stranger to the struggles in South Africa.  She was a singer that used her songs to speak up against apartheid. When she travelled to the UK in 1959, to star in Come Back, Africa — a movie on apartheid. The role led her to the US, where she carried on her activism through music. Clearly, the South African government felt threatened. In 1960 our girl was banned from reentering the country. Even her passport was also revoked in 1963. Yet, Makeba was unmoved. She released even more revolutionary music. With popular songs like Pata Pata and grammy-winning album, An Evening with Belafonte/Makeba, Makeba was one of the first African musicians to receive worldwide recognition.  Amapiano is not the only thing you should be thanking the South Africans for.

    4. Huda Shaarawi (1879–1947)

    I know the title said it, but if you’re a feminist and you don’t know Huda, please, step down from your pedestal today. If Huda wasn’t pushing the rights of women as a feminist then, she was advocating for better governance in across the Arab world. Huda was a pioneering feminist leader and established the Egyptian Feminist Union in 1923.  Essentially, she was letting the people know women were here to take over. She is one of the many women that fought hard to see Egyptian women living as the gorgeous gorgeous girls they are.

    5. Mariama Bâ (1929–1981)

    If you are a lover of books, this is the babe for you. Born and raised as a Muslim woman in Dakar, Bâ was very opinionated on the rights of women in Senegal. She was particularly opposed to the custom of polygamous marriages and was keen on the empowerment of women. Her frustrations were voiced out in her first novel, Une si longue lettre (So long a letter). Bâ ’s other literary works such as Scarlet Song and La Fonction politique des littératures africaines écrites also speaks to the role of women in building Africa. Get you a Bâ today.

    6. Rose Lokissim

    Just look at that fro. This is a woman that knew how to fight. Literally. Rose was one of the first female Chadian soldiers. She strongly opposed Hissen Habré, a Chadian politician convicted for war crimes. In 1982, Rose fought against the dictatorship in Chad. Sadly, she was imprisoned in 1984 and tortured for eight months. Within that time, Rose was able to record and smuggle out the names of prisoners. Although she was executed for this act on May 15th, 1986, she’ll never be forgotten.

    CONTINUE READING: 17 Things You’ll Relate to if You Grew Up in Ibadan

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  • Everything I Want to Unlearn From My African Mother — 7 African Women Share Their Stories

    Everything I Want to Unlearn From My African Mother — 7 African Women Share Their Stories

    African Mothers! One minute they’re preparing your favorite meal, the next thing, they’re aiming for your head with a shoe. It can be a complicated relationship to navigate. As you get older, what are some of the things you’d like to unlearn from your African mother? In this article, seven African women talk about the things they want to unlearn from their mothers. 

    “Forgiveness and walking away can co-exist”

    — Patricia, 33, Nigeria

    My mother is amazing and I love her to pieces, but I want to let go of her mentality towards forgiveness. When I was younger, my dad did a lot of unnecessary things. He was always angry and vulgar with words towards my siblings and me. My mother never complained or cautioned him. Whenever things escalated to being physical, I’d step in, but she’d scold me and ask me to apologise for standing up for us. She felt it was disrespectful to my father. Whether it was blocking a slap or walking away from a quarrel, I was wrong. Her rebuttal to my objection was usually, “You must learn to forgive.” It hurt. She wore “forgiveness” like a badge even when it was hurting everyone. When I got into uni, it was tough to set boundaries. With lovers, I was always overlooked, and with friends? I was the pushover. The world wasn’t very kind to me. After a friend tried to frame me for fraud at the bank, I knew I needed to change. I decided I can forgive someone and still end a relationship with them.

    “I’m learning to choose rest”

    — Laurel, 44, Sierra Leone

    I lost my mother in 2017. I wish I told her how watching her become a workaholic made me feel guilty for resting. She was our superwoman. No matter how late she got in, my mother would make fresh soup for me and my siblings. She’d be on her feet no matter how much I tried to help. As she got older, I began to emulate that superwoman behaviour. When she passed away, I decided to put that hero complex to rest — Maybe it was the shock of death or the sudden realisation that I could be next, but losing my mother was the rude awakening I needed to try to dey rest sometimes. That or the warning the doctor gave me about my heart. Either way, superwoman had to also die at that grave.

    RELATED: Tell Your Nigerian Parents to Get Out, Respectfully

    “Beauty is not vanity”

    — Marabel, 29, Ghana

    My mother wasn’t big on beauty when I was a child. Lip gloss, red lipstick, mascara — it’s all vanity, she’d say. Even putting on that white Enchanteur powder all the girls in school were wearing those days  was a big problem for her. As I got older, I felt out of place. Girls could switch it up for dinner dates or getting into skincare and I was always Plain Jane. Now, don’t get it twisted, I never felt ugly. I just wish my mum didn’t attach everything that had to do with beauty as vanity. Imagine being 20 and unable to let myself buy lipgloss. Thank God for my university friends that dragged me into the stores. It’s been a tough road but I’ve had to learn to embrace my feminine energy. The funny part? When I started to buy makeup and skincare items, my mother would casually stroll into my room to try them out. Clearly, she needed someone to show her that it’s okay to be pampered as well. 

    “I don’t always want to be angry”

    — Seun, 28, Nigeria

    In my home, my mother is practically the head of the home. Even my father doesn’t dare challenge her. It’s so difficult to connect with her and even more challenging to live under  her roof. She’s always agitated. There’s no day she’s not shouting or picking an argument over minor things. If it’s not the funny way you greeted her, it’s something you said as a joke that she’s found disrespectful. I try my best to overlook it — not like I have a choice, anyway — but I’m tired of it all. Getting it right with my younger siblings has been my priority this year. I don’t want to be as snarky and difficult as a person. If they think I’m going off the rails, they’ll sit me down for a conversation. I really want to learn to keep an open mind with communication.  It’s difficult to unlearn because I already see it as normal, but I’ll keep trying. Maybe one day I’ll open up to my mother. As for now, I’m still living in her house — the slap after any rebuttal is inevitable.

    RELATED: If You Have a Yoruba Mother, Here’s Why She’s an Absolute Babe

    “I deserve a soft life too”

    — Lu, 31, Nigeria

    You see that spirit of cooking every second of the day? I’ve rebuked it in my life. My mother is such a people pleaser and conditioned to be a homemaker by her own mother. Typically, people want to give out money. As for my mother, it’s food. This woman can spend the whole day on her feet. If it’s not moi-moi we’re wrapping for a community group in church, it’s plates of jollof rice we’re packing for the women in her office. Before you call me a witch, I applaud her for being so generous. However, I don’t want to spend the weekends I come to visit my mum washing moi-moi leaves abeg. The woman has Arthritis and still stands on her feet. I’ve tried getting her a help, but she ends up sending them away. For me, I’m unlearning this desire to cook for the nation. If I want to help, I’d rather give money or buy the food instead.

    “I don’t want to work myself to the ground”

    — Peach, 26, Benin Republic

    I didn’t get to see my mother a lot, and the few times  I did, she wasn’t exactly present. For me, I want to work on being present with people I care about. My mother was a workaholic with an alcohol problem and I hated it. She was a competitive — too competitive for her own good — woman trying to get to the top. While that’s commendable, I want to unlearn that culture of burying myself in work to prove a point. Now, anything I can’t finish in the office won’t come home with me. I won’t work myself to the ground and end up drowning myself in alcohol.

    “Just say sorry”

    — Demola, 27, Nigeria

    The Association of Nigerian Mothers needs to review their  rule of never apologising. That’s one thing I want to unlearn from my mother. I hate how every conversation on saying sorry turned into a backstory on all the ways I remind her of my father. She’d talk about how he’d make her kneel down to apologise after every argument. It was just her way of avoiding the conversation anytime I brought up something annoying she did. Anything about apologising made her so defensive and I want to change that moving forward.  

    CONTINUE READING: Pros and Cons of Hosting the Headies Award in the United States

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  • Live Vicariously Through These 5 Nigerian Women Exploring Africa

    Live Vicariously Through These 5 Nigerian Women Exploring Africa

    After exploring a bit of Kigali in this week’s #ZikokoWhatSheSaid, it was only right to see other African countries we need to have on our bucket list. We want you to live vicariously through these five Nigerian women as they share some of the African countries they’ve visited.

    1. “My first solo trip was to Tanzania”

    I spent 2021 saving for my first solo trip to Tanzania. It was my first time on a plane, so of course, I tried to play it cool, but  I couldn’t figure out the belt. Luckily, the cute lady beside me showed me how to buckle it in. A few minutes after takeoff, I slept off until we landed in Tanzania. I had paid to spend the week at a resort before heading to Zanzibar the next week. Tanzania was beautiful. There were trees, vast lands of green and hills. The most exhilarating moment was the hike up Kilimanjaro — I almost peed my pants as we got higher up. To be fair, I was slightly drunk on that hike. The next day, I took a ride on a hot air balloon and it’s the most freeing thing to experience. Looking down at the lush greenery and slowly floating into the clouds made me feel like I was finally living life. And oh,  the food. Everyone needs to try Urojo soup.

    2. “ There’s nothing as elite as a VIP lounge”

    In 2014, I went on a school trip with a friend to Ethiopia. It was a conference, and we were expected to deliver a speech on youth empowerment. I had been on international trips before, but it was the first time my destination would be in an African country. The best part was that I didn’t have to travel with a teacher. Well, at least I thought that was the best part until we connected with a minister and his special advisor on the flight. They ok it upon themselves to be responsible for us since we didn’t have a guardian tagging along. There were other complications with our accommodation for the trips, so they paid for our meals and hotel bookings. We arrived in Ethiopia in the middle of the night and it looked so beautiful flying in. We went into the VIP lounge and waited for the car to get us. I felt so elite. There were top guys in politics and we got to mingle for a bit.

    Surprisingly, Ethiopia was quite chilly. I didn’t expect that. Other parts of the trip kind of went by quickly. The food looked great, but I was keen on sticking to familiar things like rice and meat — I’m not adventurous with food. I did try a dish called injera and it wasn’t for me. It felt like moist bread with meat. So yeah, not for me. Another thing, the women in Ethiopia are gorgeous. I’d love to go there again.

    3. “Waakye and shito is everything”

    I was in Ghana for a week in 2019. First off, there are traffic jams in Accra o. Yes, the type you sleep and wake up in. But I loved Jamestown and its colonial buildings and taking a tour at the Kwame Nkrumah Memorial Park. The night scene was amazing as well — drinking, eating waakye and shito. Trust me, when Runtown said, “Hope your love go sweet pass shito,” he knew what he was talking about. Shito bangs with everything. I filled a bag with it when I was leaving. 

    4. “Drunk nights in Morocco were the best”

    In 2018, I was on a trip with my girlfriends to Morocco. One of them was getting married and we wanted one last trip as single pringles together. We were all in our thirties and every night was insane. The beaches are incredible — the water is as blue as what you see on TV. And the coconut cocktails were everything. I’d kill to have those drunk nights on the beach again. Let’s not forget the food. Brocadillos and macaroons were my favourite things to eat. I can’t lie, Morocco is expensive to enjoy, but I need to go there again. I need another drunk night on the beach, dancing in a bikini.

    5. “ I loved yovo doko”

    I was in SS2 and went on an excursion to Benin republic. I lived in Benin state and the school bus drove the class to Lagos. Our bus driver got lost on the way. I remember eventually getting to Marina and then Badagry. We spent three nights at Whispering Palms in Badagry before continuing our journey to Benin. The first thing I noticed from the border was how clean Benin Republic looked. CFA franc looked really cool, and the spending coins felt like I was spending UK money. I went to Dantokpa market in Cotonou and wanted to get some souvenirs. I felt I could have haggled the seller for a cheaper price — the Benin babe in me is still screaming. The rest of the trip was a lot of food. They were hard to pronounce but I remember trying  yovo doko and it tasted like puff puff. Then there was amiwo with the mojo sauce and fried chicken.

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  • What She Said — “Nigerians Taught Me to Love My Culture”

    What She Said — “Nigerians Taught Me to Love My Culture”

    Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here. 

    Today’s subject for #ZikokoWhatSheSaid is Daniella Gaza, a 25-year-old Rwandese woman. She talks about her mischievous adventures in Kigali, the influence of her parents’ lives as refugees to chase a career in human justice, an unexpected turn after COVID, and a guide to a fun girls’ night out.

    Tell me about growing up in Rwanda.

    My father served in the Rwandan army, so my family lived in a military barracks in Kigali. For most of my childhood, his job took him away on long missions. I understood his absence was for our country, but I missed him. 

    While my father’s job took him away, my mother was also occupied with work. The fun part of Kigali was typically my younger siblings. I had two sisters and a brother — each born a year apart. We connected seamlessly because we were almost the same age. I’d say we were best friends, and it was exciting. For my mother, on the other hand, It was messy.

    What do you mean by “messy?”

    The mischievous misadventures of having four kids who were almost the same age. I’d imagine it was overwhelming for my parents. On one of those adventures, my siblings and I were bored. Since the neighbours were moving out, we decided to go to their empty house and play. It was easy to sneak away because the maids were distracted. We got in and found a sofa that looked abandoned. Apparently, it wasn’t. Our neighbour came back to find us jumping around in a fort we made from the cushions. He wasn’t mad about it, but that evening, my mother got the gist when she came back from work.

    LOL. What did she do?

    She yelled at us, but that was as far as she’d ever go. My parents were pretty relaxed — Rwandans are chill. There was never a time they’d beat us for our shenanigans. They didn’t know half of it, but I’m sure it wouldn’t have changed anything. 

    When I was 16, we started having arguments about going out. Kigali had a lit night scene, and I wanted to experience it. One night I didn’t get my parent’s approval, I snuck out for a birthday party. When I got back in, they were waiting for me in my room.

    Ah…

    Nothing happened. They just wanted to talk through it. There was a lot more freedom after that. So, a bit of rebellion went a long way. 

    Nigerian parents must not see this chat.

    LOL. My parents never shied away from being vulnerable. Our hardest conversations were about their experiences as refugees in 1959 and the genocide of the Tutsis when they returned in 1994. Days without food to nights hiding in bushes — we talked about everything. 

    “Last last, you’ll always come back to Kigali” was the premise of their recap; a conveyance of hope for the future. It stuck with me, unconsciously. Moving to Canada for uni made me even more aware of the unsaid responsibility to represent my country and experience new cultures.

    What was different about moving to Canada?

    Nigerians. I met Nigerians. They were so loud about their culture — I loved it. Unlike Rwandans, they were cutthroat and direct. I remember getting into a conversation with two Nigerian girls. I was feeling their braids, and I walked up to let them know I loved it. They said they braided it themselves and I was lost. My mother never braided my or my sister’s hair, talk less of braiding it ourselves. If it wasn’t happening at the salon, then it wasn’t happening at all. 

    Then the cooking part. When I told them I was learning to cook, the exclamations were hilarious. I got plenty “Ah, by the time I was 10, I was already cooking…” Then they’d list dishes like ogbonno and their cherished jollof rice. In Rwanda, we didn’t have many special meals. There was fufu eaten with isombe (cassava leaves) and some beans, but that wasn’t something we ate often. Cooking wasn’t something we had to learn. Once we learnt to fry an omelet or cook mashed potatoes and a salad, we’re good. 

    My Nigerian friends showed me to braid my hair and of course, cook jollof rice. I’ll be honest, when I tasted Nigerian food, I knew Rwandans were missing out on something. 

    What’s that?

    Flavour! LOL. I loved the samosa and mandazis (puff puffs) my mother makes on very special occasions, but when I went back to Kigali for holidays, I had to introduce my family to spicy food. 

    And?

    They didn’t enjoy the peppery taste of stew or jollof rice. 

    LOL. 

    I met other Africans who grew up in Canada didn’t seem to care much about their cultures, then  East Africans like the Burundians with cultures similar to Rwandans. But the Nigerians? From indomie to jollof and Wizkid, it was lit. Their flair for their culture made me just as proud to be a Rwandan in Canada. The intense cooking wasn’t for me though.

    LOL. How did the rest of uni go?

    I studied human justice and focused on women’s rights. It was something I always wanted to explore. My father’s dedication was an inspiration, but I really fell in love with the idea of justice in Grade 7. True-crime documentaries were my kryptonite and Les Enquêtes impossibles was my favourite show. On the weekends, I spent the whole day waiting for it to come up on TV and binged. Seeing the witty ways lawyers represented their clients riled me up; they seemed invincible. 

    When I became a teenager, it was How to get away with murder that stole my heart. I wanted to be Annalise Keating; the woman in heels, red lipstick and a black briefcase walking into court. When it was time to choose, human justice was close enough to the dream. 

    Why women’s rights?

    I wanted it for two reasons. First, women were key players in rebuilding Rwanda after the genocide in1994. 60% of the seats in parliament were held by us, and I wanted to be a part of those numbers. Second, I was a budding feminist that loved her country. Once upon a time, Rwandese women weren’t allowed to go to school. Our policies changed in 1994, but for many African countries, it’s stayed the same. I was hoping my degree would allow me to join the race for gender equality in Africa — the dream of every feminist. 

    I love it. How did that go?

    The plan was to move back to Kigali to practice in a human rights firm, but the pandemic had other plans.

    What happened?

    There weren’t a lot of opportunities because of the lockdown. Initially, it felt like a nice vacation after uni. There were parties and one or two beers at the pub almost every night. I was having a damn good time and burning a hole in my pocket. 

    Tourism presented itself as an opportunity when a friend’s aunt wanted to expand her firm to Rwanda. At first, I wasn’t keen on it. I was worried about the big goals I had in human rights, but there weren’t a lot of options. My parents also encouraged me to try it, so I took up the job. It’s been one of the best decisions. 

    And the dream to become Annalise Keating?

    I’m on a different path, but I’m still driven by the same passion to push Rwanda forward. From our mountain gorillas to the volcanic landscapes, we’re monetising the beauty of my country for revenue. Everything syncs to the future. If it changes, I can always circle back to human justice. Right now, the Annalise Keating dream is evolving.

    Nice. I’m curious: did moving back to Kigali as an adult feel different?

    Kigali had always been a small town, but moving back, it felt smaller. Everyone knew everyone. There were hangouts every night after work. I was either at the pub for a beer or a friend’s house gisting over a glass of wine. But enjoyment in Rwanda can leave you broke. I needed to find balance. Right now, if I need some downtime, I have a glass of wine and watch a true-crime documentary. 

    LOL. What’s a girls’ night out in Kigali like? 

    I never know what we’re celebrating, but Rwandans are always up for a drink. So we’d definitely go to a club or a pub. We’d eat brochettes and dance all night. While we’re hungover the next morning, I’d take you to see mountain gorillas at the volcano park. More beer after that.

    I need to tell my boss to consider Rwanda for our new office…

    Please bring jollof rice.

    LOL. What’s your next plan?

    My big girl dream is to take a trip around Africa and explore the food. I’ve ticked Tanzania off my list, maybe Nigeria will be next. Right now, I’m saving up for a new apartment. I stay with my parents and it’s great, but I need my own space. Some of my aunties think that kind of move will scare men, but the right person will find me. 

    Can’t relate. We’re on the streets here—

    LOL.

    Nigerian women gave you jollof. What’s something you want to give us?

    French music. I want Nigerian women to experience the serenity of it. I’d say, start with Tayc. Play Le Temps to serenade the love of your life this week or yourself!

    Ortega

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  • 9 African Women Talk About Breastfeeding

    9 African Women Talk About Breastfeeding

    If you were on Twitter last week, breastfeeding was a trending topic, thanks to this video. It was an important conversation that I intended to continue, so I asked African women to share their breastfeeding experiences with me. Here’s what nine of them had to say. 

    Thelma, 28, Nigerian 

    I had a traumatic labour and delivery, so breastfeeding was not even at the top of my mind. When it was time to teach me how to get him to latch on, it wasn’t a problem. My son was so good at it they were cheering me on at the hospital. I didn’t have any milk so my poor baby was enjoying air. When I spoke to the midwife and nurse about it, they told me that I had lost a lot of blood and my iron level was low  and had affected my milk supply. They told me not to worry that they have enough formula to last my hospital stay. 

    While at home, I still couldn’t produce a lot of milk until 5-7 days later. My baby was on formula but I tried to get him to latch for 30 minutes every day. I wasn’t in a lot of pain but my nipples were cracked and disgusting. I ate different foods that were meant to help but I just didn’t feel like I had enough milk. My nurses were never worried as long as he was eating something. My child’s diet was 70% formula and 30% breast milk. Although I felt like I wasn’t doing enough, I was told everyone is different and I should not feel like a bad mother. That was reassuring for me. 

    Megan Ross, 32, South African 

    I breastfed my son for a long time —  almost four years. It was something I was happy to do as long as my son was happy with it. We weaned at a time that was emotionally good for him, and when I knew he felt ready to let go.

    I initially aimed to breastfeed for six months and then a year, but as time passed, it felt like the most natural and normal thing to do. I’ve travelled a lot for work so pumping and expressing was a huge part of my breastfeeding journey. I was pumping every two and a half hours on a flight from Frankfurt to Iceland and then in Iceland while I was away from my six-month-old for a week. It was intense but I didn’t want him to run out of milk and I was also trying to prevent mastitis. It was a lot of work and quite stressful but I don’t regret one minute of it.

    Tomi, 34, Nigerian 

    I have two kids —  a three-year-old and a nine-month-old. I breastfed my oldest child till she was two and a half. I stopped because she always wanted to suck at the same time as the younger one and never wanted to wait. I initially planned to breastfeed her till she was three. 

    I’ve been lucky in my journey. My husband and I attended breastfeeding classes before the kids were born. We learned proper positioning,  potential problems and potential solutions. I was able to put them on my breast almost immediately after they were born. For both births, my breast milk came in three days after delivery.  

    I remember being extremely sore when I was pregnant with my second child and still breastfeeding my first child. I had to remind myself that she didn’t ask me for a sibling. The pain eventually faded.

    I tried pumping out milk when my first child was about seven months old so my husband could feed her at night, but after all the pumping stress, this child would just take a sip and reject it. She nursed to sleep till she was about 21 months, and we mutually agreed to stop. The plan is to try for three years with my second baby. Breast milk is pretty much free, and formula is expensive plus the stress of boiling water and waiting for it to cool before feeding them. LOL. I just open my breast and throw it in their mouth. Hungry, take breast. Tired, take breast. Sad, take breast. Injured, take breast. It’s an amazing solution to everything.

    Bimbola, 28, Nigeria 

    I did a lot of research on breastfeeding when I was pregnant with my first baby. I had my son in a general hospital where exclusive breastfeeding was a must. I decided I wanted to breastfeed exclusively for six months. It was easy for the first few weeks but as the baby grew older, I noticed I was always hungry and cranky after breastfeeding. I also battled with postpartum depression so I was not in a good place. It was too much stress for me

    My baby was clingy as well. He didn’t allow anyone else to carry him. I couldn’t go out for too long. I didn’t even bother pumping breast milk because it was a lot of work. Funny enough, I made it through the six months breastfeeding him. I was 23, and I did not know how to fight back on societal pressures of what a ‘good mother’ should be. I’m older and more experienced now, so since I wasn’t lactating after I gave birth to my second child, I just gave him formula. That’s how I fed him, alongside breast milk. I weaned him around January this year. It was a win-win for both of us. I’m happy these conversations are happening. A new mum may see this and know she’s doing her best whether she’s bottle-feeding or breastfeeding.

    Funmi, 55, Nigerian 

    I didn’t know how to breastfeed when I had my first child. I was living with my husband’s family and my mother-in-law and sister-in-law refused to help because they didn’t like me. My baby survived on water for a week till my mother came on the day of my daughter’s naming ceremony. I wasn’t even eating well before she arrived and my husband wasn’t supportive either. My mother taught me to lactate and I eventually got used to it. 

    Sandra Solomon, 32, Nigerian 

    My breastfeeding journey wasn’t easy. On day one, my little girl rejected breast milk. I tried to force her but she wouldn’t swallow. I tried expressing the breast milk into a bottle, she didn’t take it either. I eventually gave up and started giving her formula. Sometimes, I would try feeding her with breast milk in a bottle but she knows the difference — she would spit it out immediately. I got shamed for bottle-feeding her. Most people didn’t understand how hard I tried.

    Fatima, 30, Nigerian 

    When I gave birth, my breastmilk didn’t flow because I was about six weeks early. I’d pump for two hours only to get like 30mls. This led to increased anxiety and postpartum depression so I stopped trying for a while. I had three different pumps, and I was like a maniac trying to get milk out. I bought lactation cookies, tea and granola. Those didn’t work. I drank fenugreek oil and licked the powder. I drank water like a drum. It was when I started drinking pawpaw leaf juice that my mother-in-law told me to give it a rest. If milk isn’t flowing, it’s not by force. When I relaxed, the milk started flowing. It never flowed in excess and couldn’t have been enough to breastfeed for six months but we dey okay. My body was always aching because breastfeeding was taking a toll on me so I had to wean earlier than planned. 

    Nnenna, 25, Nigerian 

    When I gave birth, I couldn’t breastfeed for three days because I had a Caesarean session. When I got home and started breastfeeding, it was the most excruciating pain ever. My baby’s mouth was like a vacuum cleaner, ready to suck my soul out through my nipple. 

    Feeding him every hour was so annoying because I was healing from the operation but my son didn’t care — all he wanted to do was suck, suck and suck. I always felt dizzy no matter how much I ate. I stopped breastfeeding him when he was 16 months because o ti sumi. I would have stopped earlier but it was convenient for me to shut him up with my breasts whenever he started crying. 

    Right now, he is 18 months and occasionally reaches for my breasts but all the milk has dried up. There’s also a pain that comes from stopping your child from breastfeeding and it’s worse than starting but that’s a story for another day. 

    Mido, 27, Botswana

    Breastfeeding was hard at first. My milk came out on the second day after delivery. I was sad at the hospital because other new moms were breastfeeding properly and I had to massage my breasts for milk to come out. It took a few hours and I was also expressing into her bottle lid so she could at least have something to feed on. I didn’t like how painful the process was but I got the hang of it eventually, and it was a beautiful experience for me. 

    For more women-centred content, click here

    Mariam Sule

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  • 11 African Women Send A Message To Their 16-Year-Old Self

    11 African Women Send A Message To Their 16-Year-Old Self

    We can all agree that adulting is a scam. With the never-ending bills and responsibilities, we almost never have time for ourselves. So, for this article, we asked eleven African women what they would say to their 16-year-old self about growing up if they could go back in time

    Alex, 25

    You are not as grown as you think. Try dey calm down. Everything is going to be alright. 

    Kay, 23 

    You don’t need a man to be a woman. You don’t need to be in that relationship. It will affect your studies, and you will regret it. You know it’s not something you want. There is much more to life than you know. The romance novels lied. 

    Lats, 27

    Everything falls into place at the right time. Also, you are not weird, you are just gay. 

    Anike, 27

    You are not choosing to be inattentive, lazy, and unserious. You have ADHD. You are different and that’s okay. There’s a lot of people like you. You will find out eventually. Do not let it weigh you down. Live life according to your standards. Don’t let man-made cultural and religious rules hold you back. Do not try to be mature. You are a child, so it is fine to act like one. You are going to be alone for a long time, but you will do well. It’s okay to cry and to be hurt. It’s life but make sure to not lose sleep over anyone, except it’s an emergency. Do not beat yourself up too much. You no kill your mama make anything no kill you. Human beings can be a bunch of mean-spirited people, and you will be disappointed to find that out, but the truth is you need them to survive. 

    Boma, 26

    Sis, you are not going to marry Michael. He is not the beginning of life and death. Abeg calm down, boys ain’t shit and sex is overrated, dear. Also, being a virgin doesn’t make you better than anyone. 

    Misan, 22

    Please remember to always be nice to yourself. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re not possessed. You do not need to pray your sexuality away. Yes, you like girls, so what? That’s who you are, and it’s never going to change. I wish you’d stop being so hard on yourself. You are not unusual because the people around you don’t get you. Try not to rush love. It will come soon and when it does, allow yourself to feel it in its entirety. It’s beautiful, I promise. 

    Eloho, 20

    Eloho, be more adventurous. Do not let overthinking keep you from trying new things. Trust yourself. There is no one better than you. Also, your decision to not get involved with guys will pay off in the long run. 

    Vowhero, 24 

    Focus on your studies. Don’t let friends derail you. Boys don’t have anything important to say. Try not to care what people say about you. Just do you, girl. Keep your head up high. At the end of the day, it’s just you vs the world. 

    C, 21 

    Please don’t starve yourself. It will not only lead to an eating disorder that will hurt you, and it will also backfire. You were always meant to be a sexy puff puff. 

    Viola, 26

    Do not say yes if you do not mean it. Please report them if they violate your consent. This is not what you deserve. 

    Dora, 27

    Perish that idea that you will be married with three kids before 25. Be ready — life is going to get tougher.

    For more women-centred content, click here

    Mariam Sule

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  • 20 African Women Share What Life As A First Daughter Is Like

    20 African Women Share What Life As A First Daughter Is Like

    Being a first daughter in African homes is a different kind of pressure, responsibility and work. These twenty African women share what being a first daughter is like.

    Anna, 22

    From a young age, I was expected to take care of my siblings while receiving no care or attention from my parents at all. I was raised by help, uncles, and aunties which basically allowed them to molest me as a child. I was not protected or even considered by my parents, and when they were around they would punish me for the simplest of things. Even to this day, I get berated and emotionally abused for little things like not cooking. My brothers however get gentle treatment for stealing and committing fraud. There has been an inequality in patience, punishment, and love when it came to me and my brothers. That’s why as an adult I have started to neglect my parents and my brothers as they neglected me as a child. I make good money, but I don’t share and I don’t do anything for them because they never did anything for me.

    Amaka, 31

    Growing up as the first daughter and first child in my home is hard. I have to be the perfect example to my 4 younger siblings, and it’s exhausting. My dad is retired, my mom is a full-time housewife, and my younger siblings are in school. I earn so little, yet, I’m required to give up at least 60% of my salary to my family. I recently stopped giving my salary to my parents because I realised I have a life, and I should take care of myself first. I do not know if this is the biggest mistake I have made because my mom has not given me a breathing space ever since, and my siblings do not talk to me, especially my younger brother. They feel I earn so much, even though they know my current salary is N89,000 monthly. Sometimes, I just want to run away and never come back. My immediate younger brother and sister are in relationships, and my mom never fails to let me know this. She used to say that maybe I have a spiritual problem. I wish I was living far away from my family, but house rent in Lagos isn’t something I can afford. I Had surgery recently and had to reach out to a close friend to help sort my hospital bills. It’s not like my dad couldn’t pay, but he simply refused because I’m the first daughter and should be able to navigate through life on my own. He kept asking what I use my savings for, but I don’t even have savings in my life at the moment. I took a loan last year and I’m still trying to pay it off.

    Beth, 19

    My parents were horribly strict when I was growing up. I barely went out and did not go to any big parties or raves. They always forced me to go to church as early as them and also be involved in church activities. They freaked out at everything I did wrong, from the small things to the big things like liking a boy to talking to guys. They were very controlling, always wanting to know where I was, what I was doing, and who I was doing it with. They would ask for my friends’ full names and numbers as well as their parents before ever letting me out of the house. Now life is different because I fought them. I hated them for a long time, so once I left the country I just stopped talking to them all together and they hated that. I was very distant and hated being called by them.

    Hafiza, 25

    I remember as early as possible, anything I did my parents would remind me my younger sisters are watching so I had to be on my best behaviour. My upbringing was pretty strict compared to my younger ones. There are things that they’ll do that I’ll be scared to even try. Now everything I do in life I hear my dad’s voice in my head saying “you’re setting an example for your younger ones”. I’m trying to break from the fear, and am currently like 30% a rebel.

    Yinka, 19

    In a way, I’m jealous of my younger sister. She’s not under as much pressure as I am. She’s free to wear what she wants, talk to who she likes, and study what she wants. I didn’t have that luxury. I didn’t get a phone until I was in SS3 because they didn’t want me ‘distracted’. My sister on the other hand has learnt to demand her things. She’s getting an allowance when I was too scared to ask for money at her age. I’m learning assertiveness from her.

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    Cynthia, 21

    Some days are easy, some days are hard. I’m not just the first daughter, I’m also the firstborn. I have 5 younger siblings under me so there’s a lot of pressure. Everyone is looking up to me and sometimes I wish I was born last. There are so many things that don’t come naturally to me, but everyone expects me to do it. I’m an excellent cook, but I don’t love cooking. In fact, I hate the kitchen. My parents always try to remind me that as a woman, I should always be there, but that’s not me. These people also expect me to get a Masters degree and a Ph.D. I will complete my Bsc and maybe get a Masters, but not a Ph.D. Everybody wants me to graduate fast so I can get a job and start taking part in the bills. Some days, I just don’t care about all these and do the things I want to do. After all, I won’t be with them forever.

    Samantha, 24

    Life as a first daughter means you are an experiment. Every day you’re reminded of what and what not to do because of the “husband’s house”. My siblings can get away with making grave mistakes but I make smaller ones and my head is almost cut off. You’re extra responsible for the younger ones because you’re constantly reminded that you’re going to be their parent when your parents are gone. I love my family members to death, but I could do with a lot less stress.

    Evelyn, 25

    Being a first daughter means being a third parent to your siblings, whether you want it or not. If your parents work full time, you become their caregiver as well. I have 5 brothers all still under 13, and though I love them and would do anything for them, it feels like I spent my entire life taking care of kids. I’ve been a babysitter, nanny, cook, cleaner, and everything in between. I’m now convinced I do not want kids, as I’ve done my fair share of child-raising and have none left in me. My parents think it’s your duty, that since they took care of me I should take care of my siblings.

    Fola, 20

    Growing up was draining. I’m the first daughter and only girl with three brothers. My parents were really busy people then and my mum’s cousin stayed with us. She made my life hell. I started cooking at 6 years, and if she was in the kitchen, I always had to be there with her. If she wasn’t satisfied with the house after I’d swept it, she’d slap me 10 times. I grew up thinking my place was serving my brothers and being quiet and reserved. School and books were my escape. I always felt like my mum hated me because she’s a social worker, and I was being abused under her roof and she didn’t know. I’d always lie about whatever scars I had from the beatings. I guess I found my voice in secondary school because I started refusing to do things I didn’t want to do, and assigning them to my brothers. I am not a slave.

    Paulina, 26

    My mom was very difficult when we were growing up. She had expectations for her daughters and since I’m the first of two girls (we have an older brother), it fell on me. I had to follow her to the market, be in the kitchen with her when she was cooking, all that crap. I hated it and mt house chores so much, and I couldn’t believe I was supposed to do this everyday of my life. The crux of it was that you had to be able to do these things to land a husband.

    One incident I can never forget happened when I was about 14 I think. My mom bought pepper and because there was no light, she wanted me to use this stone mortar to grind it with my hands. She had never taught me how to use it, but that day she said I should do it. I couldn’t. My mom called me all sorts of names. She said I was useless, compared me to a neighbour’s niece that was always doing house chores, and said a lot of hurtful things that I don’t remember. I remember standing there, crying. My little sister was crying too. It’s a really painful memory. Anyway as I got older, and learnt the wicked ways of feminism, I decided that I just won’t do it anymore. My brother wouldn’t even wash the plates he uses to eat, but I was expected to cook, and mop, clean and do all these things. I was resentful. When we moved to our house, space was much bigger and sometimes I would still do it, but only when I wanted. This was after university. Now, I don’t care what happens in the kitchen. I don’t help out, and I only cook when I feel like it. It was a long, hard road but I like where I’m at right now. Apart from a few things, my parents are pretty great.

    Adaeze, 20

    Being a first daughter is really a lot. It was all fun because I was born with a silver spoon but as the years passed, the colour of the spoon changed. We’re just 2 kids, and it’s been my responsibility to take care of the house generally including visitors and friends. I’ve been an adult since I was 8 and now that I’m 20, I want to be a child. My grades must be up, and I didn’t even have a phone till I entered university because I had to be “serious” and not get distracted by social media.

    At 19, I told myself that I’ll stop asking for money from my dad. So I started a small business and luckily I can foot some of our bills. I couldn’t even visit my friends except for when I snuck out, or a family member went with me. Being a first daughter is all bills and responsibilities. Sometimes, I wish I had a senior brother.

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    Ronke, 27

    Growing up, I was reminded at every opportunity about how I am the anchor that my siblings are holding on to. I didn’t have the luxury of making mistakes and when I did, I was disciplined thoroughly for it no matter how little. It was very painful for me because my siblings didn’t get that kind of treatment when they misbehaved too. At some point, I questioned if I were born by my parents and not adopted. For every decision I made, I had to think of family first before making. This really limited me in every possible way. I was a very intelligent girl growing up, but I didn’t take or know about risks or opportunities available because of the shielded life I lived. I am older now and I try on a daily basis to live life now thinking about me first. The keyword is TRY. It’s a daily struggle trying to do things that give me comfort or grow me.

    Nana, 23

    I find it hard to believe my age because of the things I do. Being a first daughter in an African household, you are actually the one that makes the decisions in the family because both your parents seek your opinions first. It’s being responsible for your siblings and your parents. That’s why some of us may come off as controlling or strong-willed in relationships because we are used to making all the decisions. I’m blessed to have a job that pays well, but I can’t do the things most people my age do with their money. While my friends are trying to spend on the latest gadgets and hair and how to travel; I’m thinking about how to pay rent, take care of household items, send money to my parents, and take care of my siblings. I’m broke all the time because I’m also trying to save for my personal goals too. Being the first daughter is actually a lot of sacrifices. Please, send money to any first daughter you know today.

    Odion, 27

    I am the first daughter, yeah and as far as my mother is concerned that means the second mother. Since I was little, I was responsible for my siblings and everything they did was on me. I have an older brother, but it is still somehow my responsibility. Even now, my mum calls me to report my siblings to me. It has some perks, like them assuming I have sense so anything I say goes. So I use that opportunity to slide in what my siblings want, but can’t tell them.

    Janet, 24

    Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been expected to be an adult. I have had to take care of everyone. It could be really tiring because everything I do is supposed to be an example to my other siblings. I am expected to carry the responsibilities of a son but have none of the privileges. I have a 15-year-old brother, and I don’t want to say he’s useless but I know that at 15 I was already an adult. In fact, my adulthood came when I was in primary 3! I dare not do half of the things he does now.

    Kiki, 23

    It was cool being the first child and daughter up until I was 7. That was when they found out my brother wasn’t well and everything went bad. It put a strain on their relationship, and they eventually got a messy divorce. I got back from boarding school didn’t get to see or speak to my mum for years.

    My dad remarried, so that began a new life with a new woman and a new state for me. I basically raised her three children (my beautiful sisters). So a lot of things had to be held back because of them. I was always so happy when I was going back to boarding school because I never really felt seen at home except when it involves the kids. Thankfully, I was lucky to get into University after secondary school so I thought that would help me escape living in that house. My cousin who lived with us and I would do basically everything in that house and I hated it. That probably explains why my love language is Acts of Service. I have gone through a lot and right now I only seem to gravitate towards people who make my life easier. Even when I gained admission to the university, my dad didn’t let me go to the hostel even after I had paid for accommodation. That affected my studies because I’d wake up early to cook, clean, and make sure the kids were ready for school before getting ready for my own school. While in school, I would literally shuffle from one campus to another because I was struggling with my clearance and still trying to attend lectures. I’ll then head home to make food for the house and take care of the kids. I used to doze off in buses.

    I finally put my foot down in the middle of my second semester, when I reflected on the fact that my results were not great. That was when I learned that my step-mom was actually the one convincing my dad to keep me at home so I could take care of the children. This just made it a priority for me to ensure nothing kept me in that house for long. So before I graduated, I worked on getting a job in Lagos and left. Now they just call me to talk about serious stuff or consult me on some topics but otherwise, I can’t be with either of them for more than a week and not be irritated.

    Jumoke, 25

    It is hard raising kids I did not sign up for. I have 3 siblings ages 7, 5, the youngest one is almost 2 years old. 2 years ago, my father threatened to kill my mother if he came back to the house and found her there. This would have not been the first time he had hit her, because his beatings have cost her one pregnancy. Her family members shunned her because they all warned her not to marry him, so she had nowhere else to go but with me. My mother had me when she was 14, so we are very very close. Everything that affected her affected me too. I couldn’t work for a long time because I couldn’t concentrate at work. I became the primary caretaker of 3 kids and a mother. My salary is not enough for that so I’ve had to take loans, ask friends for money, and do things I’m not very proud of all because I want to make sure they’re okay. I’m happy for the little things like being out of that evils man’s life and that’s very important to me. I’ve crossed the really hard part. The rest will be fine too.

    Gina, 23

    As a younger child, it was actually awesome. I already had two older brothers, and even though they hated my guts because I was the “favourite child”, my dad loved and pampered me to bits. It was all rosy until I was about 10. My parents got separated and it became hell for me, both mentally and physically. The maids we had didn’t really like my dad, so they all left when my mum left, so it was just me. I had a sister but she was still too young to help out around the house. Every one became my responsibility, from my dad to my youngest sibling. I didn’t have a social life as a teenager. When I was in secondary school, I had to get my siblings set for school, then after that, I still had to help my dad get set for work too. I couldn’t leave for school until I’d given him breakfast and packed lunch for him. I hated my siblings so much because they never bothered to help out. One night, I was the the back of the house doing the dishes and started crying.

    It felt like I was invisible and all I was alive to do was take care of everyone else. I used to wish for a major illness just so I could get a really needed break. When I got to university, I had to school from home for the first 3 years because everyone still depended on me. I never got any form of appreciation from my siblings. I eventually had to learn to stand my ground and refuse to do things I knew would inconvenience me. Even when I got my own apartment at the university for the last 2 years of school, it wasn’t really different because my dad expected me home EVERY WEEKEND. The rest I thought I could get, I wasn’t having it. My siblings only started showing gratitude for how much I take care of them as they got older, especially my younger siblings, they call me their second mother. My siblings and I have a better relationship now, they now see me as human. I think they thought I was a robot before. I had to sacrifice a lot of time and personal frivolities to cater for my family and I always wonder what my life would have been like if that was different.

    Joan, 22

    I have three younger ones and they don’t help out like they should, but my folks don’t feel the need to correct that. They always come to me to tell them to get things done. When I’m not around, they can’t function properly. One day before I went out, I cooked food for then. Since I did not tell my sister she was supposed to put the food in the freezer, it went bad. My mum didn’t shout at her, she came to shout at me. I had to remind her I wasn’t home so instead of shouting, she just complained and dropped it. My dad eats breakfast as early as 8 every day, and I have to get up all the time to make food for him. If I don’t do it nobody will. When I oversleep, he goes out without eating and then it becomes an issue. They never shout at my sister for not waking up early to make his food, it’s always me. I’ve confronted my mum severally about it and she tells me she’ll change the way it is, but it’s still the same way and I’m tired of complaining.

    Chika, 23

    It’s a lot of expectations. From how I look to what I studied in school. By the time I got to my final year in school, my mother was already talking about marriage. It’s suffocating. I made a run for it and haven’t been home since I left. I recently got a stable job, and while the salary isn’t bad, it isn’t great either. I’m paying rent and taking care of myself without any support from home, but every time she calls it’s to make demands. She guilt trips me if I can’t make something happen. At some point, I struggled with how I looked because my mom was constantly nitpicking at my weight. Even now she still does, but I just don’t care. She’s said so many hurtful things to me over the course of my life and now she’s trying to friends. Recently I clocked that a lot of the decisions I’ve made we’re subconsciously getting me away from my family.

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  • 6 African Women Talk About Being Victims Of FGM

    6 African Women Talk About Being Victims Of FGM

    FGM (Female Genital Mutilation) is also known as female circumcision and it is the cutting of some or all of the external female genitalia. It has been criminalized in some countries, but not all. Unfortunately, there have been millions of women who have been victims of this act. Six African women talk about their experience being victims of FGM.

    Yetunde, 22, Nigerian

    It happened when they discovered I had started my period at the age of 13. My mother is from Ekiti state, and apparently it was a tradition from her side of the family. The day I started my period, they killed a chicken for me and cooked. It was like a celebration. The FGM only happens after your period starts, because that is when they believe you will have more sexual urges, and it is done to avoid the clitoris touching the baby’s head, so the child can stay alive. They believe women with clitoris risk losing their baby during childbirth. Apparently, once the clitoris touches the baby’s head, the baby will die. I am not sure if my father knew about it, because it is not his tradition, but I saw him object for my niece’s 5 years ago.

    Now, I am 22 and sex is complicated for me. If there is a reason I get dry in 5 seconds, it might be because of it. The dryness, burns and swollen areas during sex only makes me not so interested in sexual relations. It is not STI, because I have checked and I don’t have unprotected sex. FGM is one of the reason I haven’t had sex in 2 years.

    Jane, 25, Nigerian

    I was about two years old when they did it to me in Rivers state. They said it was so I would not have sexual urges and they did not want us to be having sex as teens and preteens. However, the only thing I think it did was to make me unable to orgasm. I don’t know what having an orgasm feels like, and I had to ask my friends cause I thought it was normal to not be able to. Honestly, I blame grandma and whoever did this to me. Luckily, it is no longer as common as it used to be, and I was the last girl in my family it was done to.

    Anita, 26, Nigerian

    I feel I found out in the worst way possible. I went to an all girls boarding school and we usually bathe outside. So, from junior school I noticed my vagina was different and I did not have a clitoris and did not know what a clitoris was. It was strange to me why other girls had something between their vaginas and mine was different. So in SS2, I finally asked my mother why mine was different, and if something was wrong with me. She laughed and said they cut it off when I was born. It was done by this doctor or midwife that ran a maternity hospital. When I asked why, she said to make sure I don’t ‘spoil’ when I grow up. It’s believed that having a clit will make you always horny, so it’s better you don’t have it so you don’t have the urge for sex until you get married.

    I guess they got what they wanted. I had never had an orgasm, and it wasn’t until last year I started wanting to have sex. All my teenage years up until I was 24, I didn’t know what feeling horny was like. I only had sex because my partner wanted it, so was more like an obligation. I met someone else last year, and sometimes I want him, but I doubt it’s sexual urges. Maybe it is because I just love being with him, so if it means fucking then that’s fine. FGM is why I have to deal with multiple UTIs and why it hurts when I pee sometimes. Not to mention the low self esteem it brings. In Secondary school, I had someone laugh at me when I was bathing because my vagina was fat. I can’t even be angry at my mum. She was circumcised too, and I just feel bad for her.

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    K, 21, Kenyan

    I had FGM done to me in 2007. Initially, my dad was against it so they waited until he left town to do it. After our circumcision, my younger siblings who are also girls went through with no objection whatsoever from my dad. I think he originally rejected because it was the first time, and he was less religious and more reasonable then. I come from a Somali family, so that was the norm for most of us. It scared me and I wanted to be done with but it never occurred to me that it. I didn’t know I could say no or I had a say in the matter. Now that I am grown, it’s so weird that they did something like that and never thought of me as a person whose privacy they invaded even in that young age.

    Cynthia, 21, Nigerian

    I didn’t find out until I was about 12/13. I had read about it online, seen movements speaking and kicking against it, and I agreed with these activists. So one day I was chatting with my mom and trying to build up the conversation, she just blurted out that I was ‘circumcised’ as well. Apparently it happened when I was still a few days old baby. I think what hurts a lot is that she did not say she had a reason for doing it, they just did it. I felt and still feel so betrayed.

    I’m trying to extend some grace to her because she didn’t know better and was ignorant. At the time I was born there were lots of myths flying around; that ‘uncircumcised’ women grow up to be promiscuous or they get sexually active too early. So it was a somewhat ‘normal’ practice. I’m glad my family doesn’t do it anymore.

    Ada, 23, Nigerian

    It happened when I was a child so I can’t say an exact age, and I actually never knew I was circumcised until last year. My boyfriend was the one who let me know, and after a lot of research I found out it is common in many igbo homes. That in the 90s and early 2000s, they just ‘circumcise’ straight from the hospital. I am too scared to confront my parents, but I am still working up the courage. The day I found out, I cried so much. My boyfriend and sister were the ones that comforted me. I have come to terms with it, and understand that they do not know any better, and I honestly hope it has stopped. I am the first and I know myself and my other sister sister have been ‘circumcised’, but I do not know about the younger two. Honestly, I just hope it did not get to them.

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    Itohan Esekheigbe

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  • 6 African Women Share Their Worst Date Experience

    6 African Women Share Their Worst Date Experience

    From her date trying to steal laptop to another being sexually harassed, here are six women with their worst date experiences.

    Susan, 31

    It was with Dayo in Enugu, 2008 or 2009. We decided to split a cab, spring rolls, and Smirnoff ice because, feminist. He “forgot” his wallet, so he promised to transfer me his half. He then tried to steal my acer laptop in the most James Bond move ever seen, and still has the audacity to owe me his half.

    Anna, 23

    I had been chatting with this guy online for a while, and he kept saying “let’s meet up” and “let’s hangout”. After all the pestering, we agreed to see a movie. He said he was going to foot the bill and when I asked for a budget, he kept telling me not to worry. The meetup day came and at leisure mall then, movies were 600 naira in the afternoon. He paid for tickets and we waited for it to start. Movie was about to start and he didn’t get snacks. When I asked why, he said it was because he did not have money. I decided to let it slide but was angry he did not tell me. We got into the screen room only for this boy to start groping me in the middle of the movie. I stood up and sat far away from him.

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    Christy, 26

    He asked if he could host my friend and I for dinner. I agreed, and he told me to send all our preferences from wine to food. At 7pm on a Saturday he sent the Zambian version of Uber, to pick us up. I didn’t know it was an Uber, I thought it was his regular driver. When he stopped, it was at the mall. He said that was where the man asked that he drop them.

    I had never been to his place before, and I was 100% sure he didn’t live at the mall. I tried calling him, but his phone was off, so I thought to check the shops but he wasn’t there. We waited for like 20 minutes, and at this point I realised maybe this man tried to get back at me for being difficult. The driver then tells me it’s an Uber, so I paid because he did not.

    By the time I got home, I was fuming. Thirty minutes later, I got a call from the driver asking me to unblock that man. I do it, and he calls and starts yelling at me. He said his phone died and he had to rush home to charge it. He also demanded that I call the driver and get over to his place. I told him he was mad and I wouldn’t. To make it worse, he couldn’t even apologise. After I hung up, he called back to give me a detailed lecture on how he is an important lawyer, who had done so many pro bono cases and that he is for the movement (Feminism) and I should understand what a catch he is.

    Halima, 31

    It’s been over 4 years and I still can’t forget it. A mutual friend introduced us and gave him my number. He called me the first time, and we ended the call with closing prayers. I’m a Christian, but I knew something was off. The next day, he called to say hello and asked what my full name was because he wanted to look for me on Facebook, I told him and didn’t think much of it. After about a week, we planned to see and we went to Yellow Chilli for dinner. I’ll not even get into the heavy H-factor or Mouth odor, I knew I had to brave the evening. He asked what my goals were, and I told him I had just finished my MBA then, had applied for a job at Uber, done interviews, and was getting ready for the beginning of a career.

    He suddenly told me to forget all of it, that he asked for my full name because he wanted his pastor to see if we were compatible and to check our future. Apparently, when I agree to marry him, he will open a small “provisions” shop for me somewhere in Ikeja where I can be selling milo and anything I want. The seafood okra I was eating suddenly tasted like sand, and I started searching for the nearest exit. I cut short the evening and he dropped me at home. He pressed on for a long while afterwards, but I made sure I avoided him.

    Funke, 22

    It happened when I was 20, when one of my older friends kept begging that one of her boss saw my picture and he’s been on her neck since then. She basically pressured me into going on a date this person, and told me it was a one time thing. Anyway, the day came. I dressed up and got in my Uber, but I was stuck in traffic for 2 hours while it rained. Maybe that should have been my cue to turn back, but I went regardless. The setting was one of those restaurants with apartments. We settled in at the restaurant, ate, then he was like we should and talk better in the room. We got to the room and he was getting touchy. When I confronted him, he kept pushing. Anyways, when I started screaming, he says he’s going to drop me off. This man entered his car and zoomed off, leaving me in the rain at almost 10pm in a place that was totally unknown to me.

    Chika, 20

    We went to see a movie pretty late and for “security” reasons, I had to spend the night at his place. He wouldn’t keep his hands off me, and it escalated to me screaming and trying to fight him off. He kept telling me that, “no one would hear me, if you like pull down the house with your voice”. I was able to run into the bathroom and lock myself in till morning. I couldn’t call anyone for help because he took my phone.

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  • 10 African Women Talk About Using Birth Control

    10 African Women Talk About Using Birth Control

    African women have had a complex relationship with birth control, so we ask 10 African women, to tell us their experiences using birth control.

    Ann; 26, Zambia

    I don’t like taking medicine unless it’s really necessary, and I barely finish my courses so I knew the pill was a no. I didn’t like the idea of an implant in my arm, plus I am also too forgetful and tired for an injection. So, my last pick was an IUD. I liked the idea of it being where I couldn’t see it, and it staying in me for years. When it came to the choice between a hormonal IUD and a copper one, I picked copper. I didn’t want extra hormones in my body. The downside to copper IUDs is pain for 6months, increase in cramps and heavy bleeding. There are times I am bleeding so heavily during my periods, that I think I am having a miscarriage. It’s so clotty and a lot. I got it for free at a Marie Stopes clinic in Zambia. They gave free birth control to women under the age of 24.

    Zili; 23, Nigeria

    I started with the Plan B, but I read that you’re not supposed to be taking those more than once in a menstrual cycle. After that, I switched to the daily pill that led to me going up three dress sizes. I spoke to my mum about non-hormonal options, and the least likely to blow me up further was the IUD. So, here we are now.

    Alex; 26, Nigeria

    I use the daily pill, and I use it to regulate my period. I used to go through five to seven pads a day, and now my period is lighter. Birth control however has so many side effects for me. The side effects such as weight gain, nausea, vomiting, headache, abdominal cramps/bloating, breast tenderness. Though these only lasts for a few months, it is a lot.

    Nana; 35, Ghana

    The first time I got birth control, it was after my second child. I did not want any more children, because the child almost killed me. My husband was not aware, and I do not think he needs to be. I went on the daily pill, and my biggest problem was sticking to the time I was meant to take it. One child and a cesarean section later, I had my third child. That was when I needed a new form of birth control and my relationship with the arm implant was born.

    Katrina; 22, Nigeria

    I was on the pill, and it was excellent till it threw my hormones off. That resulted in a breast lump. I already had a medical history of the condition, fibrodenoma, but the hormones just made it reoccur. It eventually melted on its own, so all is well that ends well.

    Samantha; 31, Zambia

    I only use condoms. Always have, always will. Sure there have been a few slips ups like getting pregnant twice, but I still prefer it. I had abortions and moved on. The thought of taking pills, injecting myself or having implants stress me out. For me, condoms cover both STDs and handle birth.

    Ife; 21, Nigeria

    I have had my IUD in for about two months now. All the basic side effects are explained by the consultant and it really depends on your bodies reaction to a foreign objects. For me, I get random cramps and spotting any time.

    Tamilore; 23, Nigeria

    I have a latex allergy, so I do not use condoms. I got pregnant, and when I got the abortion done, the doctor said I had to get on at least one form of birth control. The arm implant was what I got, and I think they put it in your least dominant hand because when I told them I was right-handed, they inserted it in my left hand. It is supposed to release hormones that will make getting pregnant difficult, and mine lasts for five years. It cost a pretty penny, but a child will definitely cost more.

    Cynthia; 24, Zambia

    I’ve tried the combined pill, the injection, progesterone only pill and now I’m on the implant. The best has been the progesterone only pill but the only problem is it had a shorter time period to take. With the combined pill I could slack for up to 12 hours, but the progesterone only pill I had to be consistent. The implant is also good but sadly I gives me very long periods. The plus is that after that long period, I don’t get my period for 2.5 months.

    The injection was one of my middle ground ones. It’s a huge dose of hormones so it takes a toll but I never got my period on it. Only thing is you have to replace it every 3 months, and you might not be accessible. My worst, is the combined pill. It’s only benefit was the 12 hour window period when I forget to take it, but it made my period worse and more painful.

    Kikelomo; 21, Nigeria

    I have been on the progesterone only pill for about three years now and the main inconvenience is having to remember to take them everyday. It is non-intrusive unlike the implants and injections. Recently however, I have started having longer periods.

    Please remember that it is very important to speak to your gynaecologist when making decisions on your reproductive and sexual health. For more women focused content, click here

    Itohan Esekheigbe

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  • 8 African Women Talk To Us About KEEPING Their Last Name

    8 African Women Talk To Us About KEEPING Their Last Name

    In a lot of countries in Africa, women are supposed to take their husband’s last name when they get married. So, what happens when they don’t? 8 African women tell us about keeping their last name; why they did it and the problems that came with it.

    Nana; Zambian, 42

    Nobody ever asks men why they keep their name, so I was extremely upset when people kept asking me why I chose to keep mine. My mother kept telling me that it was unheard of, and my husband at some point was trying to convince me to just take his name so “peace will reign”. His family does not really like me because they think I am controlling their son, but I stood my ground despite all the insults, and I am glad I did. I am getting a PhD now, and knowing it will have the name of the little girl that wanted it years ago makes me happy.

    Cheyenne; Zambian; 26

    My partner and I chose a new last name. We both decided that it would be unfair for one of us to take the other’s last name, but we still wanted to legally be known by one name. That was when we picked an entirely new one for ourselves, and we had a lot of fun doing it. His family was fine with it, but mine flipped out. They are super traditional and could not understand why I wouldn’t take my husband’s name. It was such a big fight, they realised I was not backing down, so they just had to accept it.

    Abimbola; Nigerian, 29

    I feel like I should add that I am not a feminist, so not taking my husband’s surname was not even political for me. It just happened. It takes a lot of steps to change your identity, so for the first year, it was stress that stopped me. In the second year, it was the fact that I was starting my PhD, plus leaving Nigeria with my husband. Where was the time to start documenting then? I just left it. My parents don’t know I haven’t changed my name and I have been married for three years, I feel like they might make it a thing if they found out.

    A; Ghanaian, 37

    When my mother died and my father left, my maternal grandmother was the one that took care of me. When my husband proposed to me, I told him that I would not be changing my name because the name means too much to me to let go off. So, he agreed to take my name instead. Now, all our three children bear my surname.

    Chi; Nigerian, 28

    Each person is attached to their name for certain reasons. It is a name I grew up with, and I did not feel the need to change it for my marriage to be validated. For our kids, we will agree on first names for them, their middle names will be my name, and their last names will be his. Just so that each child will have a piece of both parents. Nigerians like to address you by your husband’s name immediately after marriage, so anytime I spoke with a family member, I would have to correct them. It got so tiring that my partner and I decided to not correct anyone anymore.

    Zainab; Nigerian, 27

    I kept my surname because as a Muslim woman my religion encourages it. Also, the stress of changing documents and swearing affidavits is not one I cannot do. My children have a different surname from me, and except from the fact that I have to explain why a few times during documentation and people insisting on still calling me by my husband’s name, everything is alright.

    Chidinma; Nigerian, 34

    I had made the decision to keep my last name since I was 16. When I told my father then, he threatened to disown me so I would have no last name to keep. When I got married, he refused to speak to me for a while, but he eventually opened up. My husband and I’s children have a compound name because they are ours, not one person’s.

    Hafiza; Nigerian, 27

    In Islam, everyone is to be known by his/her father’s name and this should not change even in marriage, but the laws of this country had made it really hard to do so. Although my husband (now ex), was not really comfortable with the idea, I consider it a blessing that I did. I cannot imagine having to swear an affidavit every time I need to use my own documents and credentials.

    Itohan Esekheigbe

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  • This 19 Year Old Kenyan Artist Uses African Fabric To Make Amazing Paintings

    This 19 Year Old Kenyan Artist Uses African Fabric To Make Amazing Paintings

    19 year old Kenyan, Katanu Kay is that 2-headed classmate your parents used to talk about

    At first, she just painted amazing pictures

    https://www.instagram.com/p/BE24OMZmFi5/?taken-by=mellow_bones

    Then she showed her genius by using African material (Kitenge) to enhance her paintings

    https://www.instagram.com/p/BLwHVN2hoQU/?taken-by=mellow_bones

    And she’s using it create pure magic

    https://www.instagram.com/p/BQPED4Bh8yn/?taken-by=mellow_bones

    Katanu is still a student but she’s already making money for her work

    https://www.instagram.com/p/BQ7esw2lNsX/?taken-by=mellow_bones

    Aren’t they beautiful?

    https://www.instagram.com/p/BHUuOw6hpZl/?taken-by=mellow_bones

    Follow her Instagram to get yours

    https://www.instagram.com/p/BIaXoKiBTF4/?taken-by=mellow_bones

    Shola

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  • How To Ward Off a Home Wrecker African Style

    How To Ward Off a Home Wrecker African Style

    When a married man cheats on his wife, one logical solution is to call the said man to order.

    Come, give yourself brain and don’t be unfortunate.

    However, there is logic and there is also the African method of taking care of a cheating husband.

    It’s about to get real.

    A quick African solution is to pity the man and blame the woman involved with him.

    Find her and beat her up or bathe her with pepper. But if you’re feeling kind, simply rain heaps of curses on the woman and her generations.

    … Or simply do what this woman did.

    And let the whole world know you have lost all chill in the world.

    What’s your own style of warding off a home wrecker?

    [zkk_poll post=15260 poll=content_block_standard_format_4]

    Maryam

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  • 35 Pictures of Heart-stopping Melanin

    35 Pictures of Heart-stopping Melanin
    If you are familiar with social media at all, you’ve definitely seen the hashtags #BlackGirlsKillingIt, #AfricanMenKillingIt, #MelaninOnFleek and similar hashtags used a lot over the past few years. Social media and the love for selfies have definitely exposed us to more of the beauty of our African people. But even before the days of social media, there were the phrases “Black is beautiful” and Black don’t crack”.
    So today, we are here to prove that these hashstags and phrases are not mere speculation but indeed FACT! Here are 35 images that show the beauty and diversity of our African people.

    Somalia

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/656631157728157697
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/652951277396209664

    Ghana

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/654064569975984128
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/633482106820292608
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/647697882284466176

    Benin

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/644598098921177093

    Eritrea

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/643969461838577664

    Tanzania

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/640722233577590789
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/643948069394976768

    Kenya

    https://twitter.com/forgottenFINES/status/641366751205167104
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/654053004321161216

    Libya

    https://twitter.com/forgottenFINES/status/641366187658514433

    Guinea

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/642123171735470080

    Nigeria

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/654051326964445184
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/644631828905750533
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/652571208874074112
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/637399459958231040

    Algeria

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/643961934493126656

    Morocco

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/644595819765739522
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/656642314748694528

    South Africa

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/645337264604717056
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/654046464574947328/photo/1?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw

    Gambia

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/646104507059970050
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/646105004768686081

    Madagascar

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/647560595324162048

    Uganda

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/647563492950679552

    Sierra Leone

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/652293374016389122
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/638503897913540608

    Ethiopia

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/638823141767184384

    South Sudan

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/654046152439037956

    Congo

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/653716158869303296
    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/638503752044027904

    Gabon

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/652957935941906432

    Cameroon

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/636089363017940992

    Ivory Coast

    https://twitter.com/BAfricans/status/637411590585876480
    If these pictures haven’t convinced you that Africans are beautiful, we don’t know what will! All images from @BAfricans

    Damilola

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