You might remember we travelled to Pemba in May, we actually have another trip coming up next week. We were invited to a colleagues’ house for lunch one day. He is younger than me and he has six children. Whether he has one or two wives (which I think is more common nowadays on Pemba than on Unguja) I do not know. I didn’t really want to ask. The first female I saw was a young woman holding a baby. It was hard to tell whether she was a wife or a child of our colleague’s but it turned out she was his oldest daughter. While we were chatting he took over watching the little one, who was able to stand with some help from her Dad. He even managed to walk her over to me (a distance of about 3 metres). But something seemed off kilter. When I picked her up I realised what it was: She’s not a toddler, she’s a baby, light as a feather! I asked her father how old she was and he said 6 months. Wow, nearly walking at 6 months!? He said it was normal for kids here.
Recently I was editing materials for the College, to go onto our Online Learning Management System, on child growth and development. The figures I read there about the normal age for toddlers to start walking (I think the range was from 9 to 18 months) prompted me to check with a nurse teacher about the above statement from our Pemban colleague regarding his child and the general age for babies to start walking in this neck of the woods. The first thing she asked was: Was the baby a girl or a boy? She wasn’t at all surprised about my answer. She explained that mainly the girls get dragged around by older siblings (often not much more than toddlers themselves) and don’t get that much attention from the parents. Girls’ reaction to being pushed, pulled, dropped and whatever is often to do everything to learn to stand and walk by themselves, being forced to develop as much independence as early as possible, – even though they are not ready for it from a developmental perspective. Wow.
Here’s another common story about the fate of females in this culture, but from a different stage of life: A month or two ago a colleague’s husband died. We were told that she was not going to come to work for 4 months according to the local custom. We both thought, okay, so this is a period of mourning for her. I then found out that during this period she will not be allowed to leave the house. I asked the colleague who’d been explaining this to me, whether she thought this was a healthy way of mourning (naïve as I was) and she explained: “Oh, it’s not about mourning. She is not only not allowed to leave the house, she is also forbidden to speak to any man during this period of time.” The reason being that for up to four months a pregnancy from her deceased husband could remain invisible and a new suitor could come up, marry her and claim the child to be his. (By the way, the woman we are talking about is in her mid fifties). I asked my two colleagues who are around my age and have both been exposed to “Western” culture through their education whether this was an old tradition that was dying out. They replied that, no, if their husband died they would do exactly the same thing.
But then they said that if you were already well into your pregnancy when the husband died you only had to stay in the house and not talk to men until you have given birth, so if you are on your 7th month it’s just for two to three months you have to do this.
Well, that’s a real relief.
najonajo 
Dear Nadine, wow – these are certainly experiences that push your cultutal awareness/understanding to a new limit….. Uff! I think it would be very hard for me to have enough patience to accept these traditions. BUT to be honest I think there’s a diffence in behaviour towards little gilrs and boys over here as well – the little girls are (suppossed to be??) more independent and start walking sooner – at least in my experience. And with 12 months at the earliest, not with six. But still….. makes me wonder why really….
I know what you mean. I often have to stop myself from saying “But in Europe we handle this in such and such a way”. If you look closer you notice you don’t always have that much to boast about, and it’s also a reminder that “Europe” is a very diverse entity, too, often impossible to generalise. Very sensitive issues, especially given our position as tolerated visitors from the “colonial” world, I feel like I’m treading on eggshells most of the time when it comes to human rights topics.
Thanks for sharing, Nadine. Yes, lots to do. I find it difficult to keep the balance: where do you draw the line when coming from a western country. You obviously don’t want to impose our views and values which we have done and are still doing ad nauseum. We can see the results now. Big killer arguments against changing anything is usually tradition and religion. But don’t we have to change traditions if they are massively inhuman? What, when even it is cruel beyond belief it’s the only thing you can cling to because your people’s existence is threatened? I can recommend Alice Walkers “Possessing the Secret of Joy”. It’s about female genital mutilation, very good and very hard to crasp the dilemma … Did you ask your colleagues how they feel if they’d be in that situation? Is there an awareness of the different roles of women and men in society?
Anyway. On a more joyful note: It’s a brilliantly sunny (but cold), literally golden Sunday afternoon here in Berlin. I’ve got the time to enjoy that, you’ll probably have to work. But you’ve probably got enough sunshine anyway … and warmth too.
Hugs, Kathrin
Well, when you ask them how they feel about these things there is a certain level of indifference, they shrug their shoulders and say, that’s just the way it is. Although I think there is some progress, for example, regarding violence against children. It’s still a big issue as beating in homes and schools is one of these traditions and parents and teachers have not been equipped with other means to show children their boundaries. But I am beginning to see a shift in awareness in at least some people here. Interestingly it seems to partly be the kids who come home from school and insist that they have rights, too. That makes me hopeful.
I am however often reminded here that we individualistic Westerners assume it is normal to strive for happiness. I don’t think happiness is one of the key concepts here at all. I shocked my colleagues when I said I think we should try to be happy, that I believe it also makes us better human beings. We had no basis for continuing the conversation, the concept was totally alien to them, and I have to say I suddenly felt embarrassed, too, because I thought I’ve been so spoilt by life that it’s probably a very easy thing to say (and at least try to act upon) for me.