Sign Language: My voice, my words and my sword

Girls from Buea School of the Deaf (BSD) tell their stories on how they have found empowerment through sign language.

This year, I awarded prizes to some four girls from Buea School of the Deaf. The awards were based on contestants’ ability to narrate a personal experience where they felt disempowered and how they managed to overcome the challenge[s] and gained empowerment. 

Of all the essays submitted, they all shared that power of communication which they now have, that voice, passion and education empowerment as well as a motherly love which has forever been an inspiration, also stood out so strong in the essays.

Winners of the prizes were: Alison Naomi (winner 1^st Prize); Angela Anyinkeng Abina (winner 2^nd prize); Zipporah Ewenye (winner 3^rd prize) and Mukoko Sandra Namondo (winner 4^th prize).

For the purpose of this article, I have chosen to publish Alison Naomi’s story. In her own words, she tells her story for change; how she overcame the trauma of finding out that she lost the ability to hear and gained empowerment.  

“I became deaf in 2006, I was in primary three.” This is how Alison introduces her essay: “The whole thing started with a fever and my mum took me to the hospital. We stayed there for several days, and returned. 

One day that was in the early morning I just realized that I couldn’t hear. When I tuned on the TV, yet couldn’t hear a thing. At first, I didn’t take it so seriously.  I felt like it was a trick – though I saw people talking but I couldn’t hear them. That same day, I remember taking a walk on the street and yet, I couldn’t hear a noise. Once my mum realized that I couldn’t hear, she took me to the hospital. The doctor did some test on me and found out that I was deaf and couldn’t hear. When my mum shared the news with me, I was depressed, traumatized and stressed.

I wiped and wiped. My mum also joined me to wipe.  

Each day, I will asked myself; “Who am I?” “Why am I so helpless?” and each time, I think of my situation I shade tears.  I tried to accept my fate but couldn’t. I even struggled with myself to ignore my situation and to forget who I was; still, it wasn’t that easy.

In school, during break time, my friends will join me in crying – they too couldn’t believe I will never hear their voice. One day as I was crying, my teacher called me – she tried to advise me, not to worry so much. She made me understand that I am not the only deaf person on this planet. That I can still be whatever I want to be – regardless of my hearing impairment. She told me to be brave. I kept her advice though I still felt like isolating myself from all of the hearing people. I wanted to be somewhere lonely. I even asked my peers if there knew of any lonely world where I can go there – but none could give me a satisfactory answer. 

Time passed and things changed. I started appreciating myself. Liking who I am. And whenever, my mum would burst into tears, I would tell her not to worry. That I am fine and I feel able to do anything, a human being can do. For instance, I made her to understand that I could lip-read and communicate with hearing people, I can dance, I can even sing like any other person – (and by the way, I enjoy dancing. I can dance all day).

I made my mum understand that I am FINE! So crying wouldn’t help – I recollected my teacher’s advice to my mum: Be Brave and be proud! When I told my mum these-she was so impressed at me. She smiled so loud and hugged me. She even promised me that she won’t cry anymore. But for sure, I know no word can stop a mother’s tear, no word can express a mother’s pain nor heal a mother’s broken heart”

All that time, I was still in the normal hearing school – it wasn’t easy to get myself fully integrated but I tried to study and understand what our teachers were teaching.  One day, a teacher advised my mum to take me to one deaf school, and that was Buea School for the Deaf (BSD) and that there; they will teach me how to communicate in sign language. 

The moment, I entered the campus of BSD; I noticed that everybody was a deaf. I couldn’t believe that I was seeing many people other than myself, deaf. I was happy to see them all – boys and girls of my age – from that moment; I knew that was a home for me. I knew I had found my sisters and brothers who can understand my pain and share with me.  I could also tell that my future was secure and safe. Now, I can follow my dreams.

While at BSD, I was taught how to communicate with sign language. I was also taught the general education which every hearing child is been taught. And in addition, I was taught my own first language – sign language. 

Years after, I wrote my First School Leaving Certificate (FSLC) and I passed. Now I am in form four, next year, I will be writing my O’L GCE. And I pray that very soon, there should be a college, university for the deaf in Cameroon or some sort of scholarship programs for us to advance our education.”

I Refused to die; I lived to tell

“I need my story to be heard. My children need to hear my story and not be told who their mama was”...That was how Madam Njitie Charlotte, commonly called Mama Commy, kicked off this interview while inviting me to sit in her living room.

Before I could set up the recorder –  in a very strong emotion, Charlotte raises her two hands at the level of her chest, saying: 

“There are a lot of people who have heard my story and are inspired by it. I want my story to be heard in the most remote of areas.

Where Persons Living with HIV/AIDs (PLWHA) are still discriminated [against] and stigmatized, I want many lives transformed. I want people to know that when you are HIV, you are just like any other human being.”

Madam Njitie Commy Charlotte, age 37, was born in Konda Village in the North West region of Cameroon. She attended Presbyterian Primary School Konda and Government Bilingual High School Mbingwe, where she obtained her First School Leaving Certificate (FSLC) and the General Certificate of Education Ordinary and Advanced Levels (GCE O & A levels) in 1991 and 1993 respectively. 

Later, she went to the Government Teachers Training College (GTTC) WumShe graduated in 2004 as a certified Nursery School Teacher; since then, she has taught in several schools, like—Les Perroqtte in Yaoundé, Government Primary School Kompina.

Currently she teaches at Apostolic Nursery School – Muyuka.

When it All Started

In the year 2004, the point of where Madam Njitie begins her narration – punctuated with smiles, emotions and reflections, though very little emphasis about her childhood experience, she tells it all – how she fought the stigma and discrimination living with HIV.

She tells how she got the motivation to open an orphanage, Father’s House, a home for some 11 young girls and 9 boys, as well as the association; Faith-Building Association, a not-for-profit, self-helped group of persons living with HIV/AIDs (PLWHA), she founded in 2006.

“My son was hospitalized in the Foundation Chantal Biya in Yaoundé - Cameroon, because he had a kind of children’s cancer.” Njitie said, having spent almost a year in that hospital.

“One day, I felt down and collapsed.”

“I was moved from one hospital to another. Finally, I was moved to my village in Konda so that if I die there it would be easy for my burial.  Two to three weeks later, having been placed on herbs treatment, I started to recover.”

So, at the request of an uncle, she recalls:

“I was moved back to Muyuka, since he suspected that maybe I was poisoned while in Yaoundé.

While here in Muyuka, I felt seriously sick again. And was carried to the general hospital in Limbe, where I was tested HIV positive.”

My husband, who really carried me to the hospital –  having heard I was identified like that, abandoned me, and went away with our children.”

She recalls that the problem was not only the HIV; with a heavy voice she says:

“The problem was that, I had only two white blood cells remaining in me. Two, two CD4! I had nearly all other opportunistic infections like cough, diarrhea, vomiting, andrashes all over the body.”

Like a Miracle

Unable to pay for the hospital bills, Njitie said;

“My mum removed me from the Limbe Hospital back to Muyuka, where I lived with her for some years in a rented small old single-room house, build out of planks.

One day, as God would do things, there came this young Holland lady, by name Syske Klumpe, an intern with the association, RUWDEC (Rural Women’s Development Centre), based in Buea. Klumpe was just passing by, then discovered me lying under a tree by our little plank house. 

She came up to me, greeted me, interviewed me and as I told her everything about myself, she wept.

However, Klumpe promised me that there was little she could personally do to assist me, but that she can help share my story to her parents, given that I accept she takes pictures of me.

Maybe, Klumpe said, her parents can send her some assistance, and only with that can she help me. 

When Klumpe said so, I responded, 'Even if you want me to undress, after all, who am I? I am just waiting for my last day.'

So Klumpe took pictures of me. That day, I was dressed in loin-cloth wrapped round my chest; all of my upper body exposed. 

Four days after, Klumpe snapped [photos of] me, I saw her and she told me that her parents responded positively. That her parents have sent her money which she has put under the Klumpe family's project – which, she used to weekly transport me from Muyuka to Buea, and then general hospital at Limbe.

This lasted for several months.

And each time, we went to the hospital, doctors prescribed new tests. Finally, after a long time of trying to treat the opportunistic infections, I was placed on the anti-retroviral by Doctor  Atanga, who was then the regional director at the General Hospital Buea, now at the Regional Technical Group (RTG).

When I was placed on treatment, it was just like a miracle that happened.

Immediately, I started taking the drugs accompanied with other vitamins; I started recovering very fast and after about two weeks, Ms. Klumpe came to visit me here in Muyuka: I remember sitting on the floor; eating cocoyam and vegetables when Klumpe also joined me on the floor to eat with me in the same plate.

I recall saying: 'No! How can you be sharing with me?'

But she said: 'Why not! You are a normal human being like me. It’s just that you are sick.' In addition, Klumpe added: 'Have I not been associating with you?'

Even at that I wasn’t sure her eating with me was safe. I felt she may get infected. But she made me to understand that it wasn’t possible. Still, I tried convincing her –  I dished her own food; she refused, and insisted eating with me. While we ate, she told me that she wants to go back to her country. I started weeping and she asked me to stop weeping.

In fact, she made me understand that she just extended her stay here in Cameroon because of me.

'And at least, I was getting better.' Klumpe said.  Moreover, she later told me that, the rest of the money that her family sent to her is still there, she does not want to take it back. 

'What will I want to do with that money?' she asked – 'or would I want to open a business since I no longer have the strength to work at the farm as well as to go to her teaching job…' Klumpe proposed.

Immediately. Klumpe asked me what I wanted to do with the money? All that came to mind was how my children have been taken away from me. The notion they have about me.  And there was little I could do to share my love with them, and to tell them how I have been made powerless and voiceless. Like me, many other women living with HIV/AIDs and children are definitely having a similar experience.

Again, I pondered about the fate of my children, the conditions under which they were living…maybe like orphans; I said [this] to Klumpe. At such, I told Klumpe that it would be my wish to have the rest of the money, be used to support orphans and any other PLWHA."

A Brave Choice: to Help Others

"Klumpe was amazed at my brave choice. So, she took me to Buea that same day, opened an account, and transferred the rest of the  money (something around 1,500 USD) to me.

And that is how the first organization, Faith Building Association (FABASSO) for PLWHA began.  When FABASSO was created, I had nowhere to go. I had no idea on how to run or manage an organization. I didn't know how to go about it.

So one day, the same year FABASSO was established – that was 2006, I was in Buea, and was wandering, after collecting my drugs; I came in contact with the sign board of Reach Out NGO. Immediately, I saw the sign board; I knew that I can seek advice from them.

So I went in, and introduced myself; explained everything, how I was looking for an organization to direct me on what to do. They told me that their madam was not in. They just gave me the number that I should call later on.

A couple of days later, when Madam Omar Esther, the executive director of REACH OUT NGO visited Muyuka, I was in Buea with one of the orphans in the hospital. She waited for me and later left.  She came again the second time in my absence.

The third time, we accidentally met in a seminar in Limbe. That same day after the seminar session, I and Omar had a one-on-one conversation, where she oriented me and promised to follow me up –  which she continues to do till date.

Through that, I was able to form a strong group – a group that went up to about 60 or 70 members living with HIV/AIDS.”

 I Will Move on Foot All Over...

“I will move on foot all over the small villages around Muyuka. I will trek under the sun, rain to find persons who are sick, [and] orphans –  so that at least everybody should come together and get some support.

Each day I will pray, talk to God.  So, one day I was crying so much in my prayer. I told Jesus, 'I want to see you.'  Suddenly, I saw this vision where Jesus came in the form of lightening. The moment I saw it, fear caught me, later I regained myself and said, '

Father – thank you!  I am sick and unable to move with strength. Give my health back so that I can work for you forever. Gives me one chance again on earth, for the rest of my life I will work for the glory of Your name.'

Then, I saw a hand brought a long book like that, saying that today we have to sign a covenant.

So, I signed my own part that from that day I will work for the glory of HIS name. And if I disappoint HIM, HE takes away my life. I saw only the hand signing; I did not even see the person's face. So from there, I surrendered my life –  I surrendered everything after that covenant. 

I said, I am going to work for Jesus.”

Refusing to Stop

While Njitie was recovering, her husband – a soldier, came back, and reconciled, but wanted Njitie to stop her humanitarian services, to stop raising awareness about HIV/AIDs, as well as stop running an orphanage. 

Njitie declined.

“I refused to stop. I told my husband that I have sign a covenant with God and would rather forego the marriage”.

 
Madam Njitie Charlotte's Story is my Second in the Know Her Story Series, winner of the Global Citizen Grant Award
It has been previously published on A Safe World For Women

Building a society of all ages: My Take Home from IFA International Workshop on Ageing and Age-friendly Environments

Now I am young, I carry the voices of the old with me, hoping that as I grow older, our societies, cities, laws, policies; communities will be age-friendly.

The world is ageing and it is ageing fast. With Africa to experience the fastest growing ageing population than any region, without having the chance of being rich, Prof Susanne Garon remarked to us all present at the  International Workshop on Ageing andAge-Friendly Environment, at Palais Des Congress, Yaoundé, Cameroon.

The workshop which began on May 27 – 28, organized by the International Federationon Ageing (IFA) and Friends of IFA (FOIFA) brought together over 500 delegates across all works of life; amongst them members of parliaments, government and civil society representatives; policy makers, academicians, journalists, heads of organizations – National and International, traditional elites and elders, from all six continents to critically looked at some four key areas on; Health and Wellbeing into Old Age; Elderly Abuse; Older Persons and Crisis Management and lastly Age-friendly Environments – as well as to seek better means towards addressing this current population trend.

I was however privileged to be one of the panelists’ speakers, presenting my views after Dr. Isabella Aboderin, a renowned expert in active ageing discourses, who highlighted a number of profound issues on age-based inequalities in sub-Saharan Africa, urging governments to invest in health care for ageing people, local elites to collaborate in promoting active ageing and researchers to produce evidence-based and solution-oriented works.

Personally, it was an honorary feeling for me – first to be part of Dr. Isabella’s panelists.  Secondly, to have spoken for the hundreds of ageing mothers in my community whose voices hardly get to the frontline. 

In addition, I felt like, I am being prepared for old age. Now that I am young, I am been mentored to not only promote young people’s agenda but as well the old such that by the time my generation is older,  discourses on age-friendly societies wouldn’t be new.

While writing this article, I could not stop reflecting on the panel discussions, participants’ questions as well as the statistics and projections from the facilitators at the workshop. One of which is the United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs (UNDESA 2007)  that states that one of every ten people on the planet is now 60 years of age or older. And by 2050, one of five people will be above 60 years or older. The truth is – by that time, many youths of today will constitute the ageing population.

And when I look at the youth of today, whose livelihood is mark with – severe suffering, poverty, abuse, insecurity, violence, diseases, poor healthcare services, high levels of unemployment in spite the education obtained; I try to visualize what kind of life awaits us [young people] in future, if proper measures are not put in place.         

And as I ponder further, I recall Mme Nesta Hatendi, the regional director of Help Age International for East, Central, West Africa, remark on “Age-Friendly Environments” – where she drew our attention on toady’s politicians, world leaders, statesmen ageing status – and how in spite of the fact that many of these leaders are older adults, they lack the vision towards enhancing healthy and age-friendly environments.

 Again, I recollect, Dr. Omokaro remarks, of Dave Omokaro Foundation, pinpointing the fact that older people’s issues have not been streamlined into development agenda. And also, the fact that there is need for rigorous awareness to shift and change attitudes and behaviors to understand older people invaluable contribution to national growth; many of whom, particularly older mothers are becoming parents again when they should be retired. 

An allusion, Dr. Isabella had also noted with focus on aging population in Africa, 78% of whom remain economically active – she said: yet elderly adults’ rights to basic health are still viewed marginal. They remain invisible in terms of decision making.

So, my take home from the workshop was - as youth activists and leaders now, this is our chance to re-orientate our thoughts and as we call on governments attention on inclusiveness, and the need for sustainable development we remember to also emphasize on elderly people’s rights and their environments - friendly of all ages.

ADDRESSING EXTREME POVERTY and HUNGER THROUGH COLLECTIVE FARMING: An old Mother’s endeavor

‘I never went to school, however, if to be educated mean to bring change, then I am very educated’ says Mama Pekokeh Mary a.k.a Peaceful Pekokeh, age 90+,a WWSF award winner for sustainable development and creativity in rural life,a community mobilizer, and founder of NJANG FARMERS common initiative group.

The story of Mama Pekokeh is one of those rare rural voices, whose works have transformed rural farming as well improved the living condition of many rural farmers in her community.

Born around the 20s, in Nbashie, in Bafanji northwest region of Cameroon to father; Mbimoh Honfu, a farmer and traditional fence marker, and mother, Ngwiepieb Monica, a fulltime farmer; Mama Pekokeh has lived all her life as a farmer.

“I have farmed all my life” she says,“I was born a famer. My parents farmed for living. Then, I got married to a Farmer with whom we farmed until death took him away from me, some three to four decades ago. Now I am old, I am still a farmer. My children, grand and great grandchildren also make livings from farming”

Inspired by the association WICO, a grassroots northwest-based Women’s Information and Co-operation network which aims at improving the socioeconomic situation of women by providing them with small grants (microcredit), as well as supporting and/or facilitating the creation of women’s groups, Mama Pekokeh created the NJANG FARMERS common initiative group. A childhood dream Mama Pekokeh finally realized in her late sixties and early seventies.

Growing up, Mama Pekokeh says, “I have suffered so much. I saw my parents laboured so hard, spent most time in the farm. I knew one day, things will change. And farmers will have time to engage in community affairs like others.”

NJANG was the first collective farmers group in Bafanji;she says, formed within the 90s and was legally registered in 1994 as a Common Initiative Group (CIG) for Bafanji Farmers.

“I remember when I started NJANG, which originally was a traditional dance group modified to a farming-and-entertainment initiative, a lot of friends and people laughed at me; many didn’t believe it will work. Some doubted my competence as an illiterate managing literate men and women” she said; at that time, the population of NJANG was just 7; gradually it grew to 13, later 20 and now 70+ including young and old people.

And unlike before, some NJANG members say,work is lighter now; harvest is not lost, farm sizes are also expanding to cultivate more crops like cocoyam, groundnuts, maize, tomatoes etc.

Having established NJANG, mama Pekokeh said, the group managed to generate some income from their farms activities, were they used to purchase a corn mill in 1995, the only corn mill within that community, serving almost 3’000 people.

The infamous country woman, now a peace advocate and a world’s hero

In 1997, Ma Pekokeh became the first Cameroonian woman to win the Women’s Worldwide Summit Foundation (WWSF) women’s creativity in rural life award, an annual prize ceremony whichhonours and celebrate women’s work worldwide.

“The award came as a surprise! I had never thought that what I was doing would be of such international interest. Lessof winning an award” she says “…[laughs] imagine, a village old woman like me having lived all my life in the village, and can neither read nor write is now a world’s hero, a role model to both literates and illiterates, a symbol of hope to many grassroots women and men”

Again, she added: “I remember, after the award, I was contacted by men and women of high profile to share my experienceand tell my story. It was a little intimidating because I had never imagined in my dream that people of such status will someday gather to hear my story”

A year after, mama Pekokeh recalls, joining a group of women for the Peace Match to Ndop,to call on the attention of state authorities, particularly the Divisional Officer (D.O) to see into the end of the war which began sometime in 1995, between the two villages; Bafanji and Bali Nkumbat. The war that tookaway many lives, properties destroyed, people left homeless, lots of women and children became widows and orphans.

 “War is scary”, she said, that of 1998 started in the night. I can hardly remember a thing except on how I ran for my life only to return to find out that my house, the corn mill – everything was burned.”

On the day for the Match for Peace, she said, “altogether we were 20 women, 10 from Bafanji and 10 from Bali,trekked straight to Ndop, to meet the Divisional Officer (D.O).  Once we arrived, we were ushered to a hall, seats were offered to us, and while we sat, waiting on the D.O. the secretary took our names to makeus badges.As we gave our names, a suggestion came up – and we were asked to connote each letter of our names. “I gave my name as Pekokeh with the letter ‘P’ standing for ‘Peaceful’. Throughout the meeting I was referred to as Peaceful Pekokeh and till date I am called Peaceful Pekokeh.”

 Old and lost my walking stick

At Mama Pekokeh humble thatch home, she lives with a young boy and two girls but cook the size of a party of 10+ people. Come to her house, she feeds you, while you eat, neighbours and children, friends and families visit her – some to eat, others just to chat, borrow petite food items, salute and / or seek for advice. “My house is a home for all” she says, in 2009, “When my only daughter passed away, leaving her four kids which are `now living with me, I was comforted by the community.”

The community is my strength; she added just how she was my strength, my walking stick and my ink on paper. She was learned. Whenever I wanted to send a message to any person or write a letter I communicate to her and she writes it.  She understood my dream and supported me throughout. Her death had caused me so much pain. It has left a big gap in my life. And till date, I am yet to fill that gap. It has also made me a little lax in my movement – though I am so ageing. 

Dream for NJANG

Now that I am old, I can barely work for long. Nonetheless, NJANG is a large group with very young and active farmers, who are so committed to pushing the vision of the group forward. I hope someday, NJANG would be able to have another corn mill, such that people’s lives become normal like before; when we used to generate income from the corn machine, and will used parts to purchase fertilizers, seedlings and other necessary products for our farms.  And when our women and girls no longer have to walk miles nor spend hours to pound maize or ground on a stone. 

Above all, I pray to see NJANG continue with the good team spirit, and should continue in helping the community.  

This article is part of the Know Her Story Project ; winner of the Global Citizen DAWNS DIGEST Grant

Remembering the All Anglophone Conference (AAC) in Men Voices?

 

 Once again, 20 years after the famous AAC, patriarchs are remembered. As usual, women’s effortless contribution in moving the Anglophones agenda forward is ignored.

In the same manner, throughout the entire All Anglophone Conference (AAC) 1 & 2, women voices were never heard. Their Stories went untold.  Or would they say – women sat at the back seats and couldn’t speak with heavy voice like their male counterpart.  Even as they cried so loud for their sons, brothers, husbands, male children and friends subjected to severe torture and inhumane practices.

Yes! It is 20 years after the AAC, so what about the distraught women, widows, grandmothers, sisters and girlfriends who fought fervently alongside the men?  What about the women and girls at the grassroots, whosacrificed their lives, time and services for the good of AAC? What about the women who spent their early morning hours, decorating the conference hall, cooking for the AAC participants. Just how they cooked for the men incarceratedso theyshould not starve to death. Again, what about the women who stayedat home throughout that timebabysitting, and also caring for the family, in-laws andthe entire household? 

Remembering the All Anglophone Conference (AAC) in men voices tells a single story of the struggle. The danger of a single story, like the famous Nigerian Storyteller, Chimamanda Adichie said; it promotes stereotypes, and can be catastrophic and impressionable for a society. 

This article was previously published on The Post Newspaper No. 01423 Monday, April 8, 2013. An opinion expressed in respond to an earlier edition (Friday, April 6, 2013) remembering the AAC