What She Deserves

          There are a lot of things that I love about Gambian culture. I love the sense of hospitality. I love that relationships are more important than work. I have even grown to love greeting everyone I pass and asking them how their family, morning, work and weather are all fairing.

            Like any culture, however, there is something that I don’t love, and it honestly surprised me. When applying for Peace Corps, my recruiter asked me how I would respond to women in traditional roles. I told her that I didn’t expect it to be a problem. I’m from a big family, and my mom stayed home with us. I respect women who stay home to care for their families. Of course, I believe women can have careers and all that jazz, but I didn’t anticipate living in a culture with traditional gender roles to be an upsetting challenge.
            But it has been, and there’s more to it than traditional gender roles.

Caveat, I have met Gambian men who are respectful and believe women to competent and equal. These are not the men I am about to take about.

            Women do not have equal opportunity. Yes, legally, women can go to school, have a career, obtain a driver’s license. But if you look at my school’s log of dropouts, the vast majority are female students. The reasons listed for pulling the child out of elementary school include helping with chores in the compound, babysitting younger siblings, and early marriage. Yes, women can have careers. My school has four female teachers and about twenty male teachers. That ratio is similar in all fields here. Most teachers, nurses, cooks, restaurant owners, and bankers are male. I’ve never seen a female shopkeeper or tailor. I’m told Gambian women can have a driver’s license, but I have yet to see a female behind the wheel.

            If I am honest, though, these aren’t things that upset me. I am upset that women, denied these opportunities, work harder than anyone else early morning till late night, sweeping, gardening, farming, collecting firewood, cooking, laundering, pounding, fetching water, caring for the compound, and raising the children, and all this isn’t considered work. Meanwhile I see many (admittedly not all) men sit by drinking attaya, sleeping on the bantaba, and complaining that dinner is late. Not to worry, though, because once dinner’s ready, they’ll be served first while the women wait. I’ve heard a lot of nice lip service from men about how women work hard, but I have hard time considering it anything beyond lip service when they sit by watching them do it.

            Soon I will return to the US and begin my career teaching. I am excited to live independently and relieved that I will soon go about my business without the perpetual verbal harassment I have come to expect here. But there’s another feeling there too. I’m not sure whether it’s guilt, anger, or heartache but whatever it is, it comes when I think about the women and girls here whom I have come to love.

            I think about my best Gambian friend. She’s her husband’s first and only wife, but she doesn’t expect that to last. She tells me it is selfish to want a husband to yourself, that women should share their husbands because there aren’t enough men to go around. I think about her telling me she cannot come to an event in the village because her husband wouldn’t like it, because if he found out, he would become angry and beat her.

            I think about my little sister. She is in 5^th grade. She’s smart, sassy, sharp. She works hard and is serious about school. Her parents actually live in another village, but she stays in our compound to help her grandmother and to go to school. Her chores often steal her time to study. Her grandmother has an unpredictable temper. Sometimes my sister has a fat lip.

            I think about another brother’s wife. She married him last year when she was in 11^th grade. She seemed serious about school and even had a European sponsor who was supporting her schooling. When she came to our compound I asked her if she planned to finish her last year of school. She told me of course. Shortly into the school year, she became pregnant. Her baby was born just before the exams she needed to finish high school. She says that maybe she’ll take the exams in the future when her son’s older, but I’m not holding my breath.

            Maybe there will always be extremes. I know girls forced to marry men who could be their fathers. I know women who are raped by their husbands repeatedly, but it’s not considered rape because he is her husband. On the flip side, I know fathers who have stood up for their daughters and intervened when their husbands abuse them. I know husbands who genuinely love their wives and show them great respect.

I don’t know what will happen to my friend or my little sister, but I know what I want for them. I want my friend to be in love with her husband and know what it is like to feel confident in his love for her. I want my little sister to finish school and pursue her heart’s desires. If her heart desires getting married, staying in the village, and raising a family, all power to her. I’ll be very proud. Whatever they do, I hope they know their dignity and their rights. I want them to command the respect they deserve. I want them to seize opportunities. I pray they experience joy. No, I don’t know what will happen, but I know what they deserve.