Women

I am slowly beginning to break out of the Juba bubble. I made my first trip outside the capital on Friday, to a suburb called Rajaf, where under a mango tree, men and women; community leaders, discussed gender-based violence. For many of them, it was the first time they had been asked to think about how women (and men) are mistreated; or to think in a normative way about their own behaviour. 

Domestic abuse, beatings, rape, discrimination against women are rife in South Sudan, for a variety of reason but all boil down to the belief, among men and women, that a woman is less of a person than a man, and is therefore not deserving of equal rights. 

A friend here, a young photojournalist, told me how she went out drinking with some South Sudanese friends, and one of the women got very, very drunk. She got in the face of a man at a bar who turned around and hit her, then hit her again until she fell on the floor where he started kicking her. Blood ran from her head, but no one did anything. My friend’s South Sudanese friends said the woman deserved it.  When speaking with the community leaders about what they thought led to violence against women, many listed alcoholism, poor education, culture and tellingly, among the all-male groups, “misunderstanding”. 

Asked to explain further, they said: “For example, if I say to my wife, you should cook dinner, and she doesn’t. This is a misunderstanding that can lead to beating.”

The young British-Nigerian volunteer advising the South Sudanese Women's Empowerment Network - the group running the workshop - jumped up.

“Let me be clear,” she told the group. “If a woman says she doesn’t want to have sex. Maybe because she is tired as she has been working all day, or she is ill. But if she says she doesn’t want to and you ignore that.  That is not a misunderstanding. You understand what she is saying, you understand she doesn’t want to, and you still have sex with her. That is not a misunderstanding, that is you deciding your needs are more important than hers. That is gender-based violence.”

The group was silent, and I silently gave her a standing ovation.

My work, as some of you know, is with women. The aim of the project is to improve women's presence on and access to the media. One way we are doing this is by creating "women's voices" groups, where the women will talk about the issues that affect them, what they are interested in or worried about, what they want to see changed, and this will be broadcast on the radio, or will directly influence the type of programmes the radio airs. 

To get a better understanding of the types of issues women do face here, and explore what type of discussion would work best for radio, I have been meeting with some of the local women's groups. One was SSWEN, who allowed me to observe the gender-based violence training, and another is Roots. 

Roots teaches about 60 women how to make the traditional beadwork of the country's 60 or so tribes. It buys the pieces direct from the women for between $12 to $75, and sells the necklaces, head and body coverings in two shops in Juba, and in the States. But it does much more than teach beadwork. It also offers literacy training, and just as important, a space for women to talk and to share their problems and their successes. The other day we celebrated one woman sending her daughter to school, the manager of the centre, Ruth, tells me. 

Ruth (a South Sudanese who used to live in Canada) acts as rode model and unofficial councillor, as well as manager. She brings into her office those women for whom speaking out among a group is still difficult. In some cases, their stories are still too painful. For some women, life has been so difficult, that they are on the edge of suicide. It's more common than reported, Ruth says. Some women kill themselves by pouring scalding water on their bodies, or set their homes on fire. Some drown themselves in the rivers or walk out in the bush and sitting down to die. I ask Ruth how you talk someone back from that brink. She says she asks them to swap places with her, physically gets them to sit in her seat, and she adopts their role, tells their story, and then asks their advice. "Usually they start by saying 'Don't give up, you're beautiful' (at which point I choke back a tear). And then they remind me of what I have come through, and what I can do; they tell my story back to me. South Sudanese women are really good at giving advice, it's that they sometimes can't see how it can help them. " 

The women at the centre also support each other financially. Every month they create a pool of money, donating what ever they can, and loan it to one of the women. All of the women have jobs, either making or selling bread, running a tea shack, tailoring clothes, breaking stones, brewing alcohol; they look after their families, their husbands, their homes, and then they come to the centre. It's unlikely they will get work beyond what they have now, says Ruth, as "office-based" employment and good jobs at the NGOs in Juba depend on who you know and family ties, and these women are among the most vulnerable. 

The centre has received death threats from more conservative elements of society, who do not like to see women empowered to take control of their lives, or to talk openly about issues, such as domestic violence. Three women were beaten by their husbands when the van the centre uses to take the women home each evening broke down, meaning they were late home.  But the women still returned to the centre.

I hope our groups can provide as much solidarity and strength as the Roots project.