16 Days - Day 12: A Chicken Story
Posted by Ann Jones on 6 December, 2007
 Reviewing the best of the week’s photos sets off lively discussion. Here women of Zokoguhe watch a slideshow in the village school. Photo: Ann Jones |
| The International Rescue Committee is working with writer, photographer and long-time women’s advocate Ann Jones to give women in war zones an opportunity to document their own lives with digital cameras and make their voices heard.
Ann is blogging from West Africa, posting new photos and stories each day from November 25 to December 10 — the ”16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence.” You can catch her earlier posts here and sign up to get e-mail alerts about new posts at theIRC.org/join16days. Yamoussoukro, Cote d’Ivoire—“What about that fat chicken?” Tanou asks. The women laugh nervously. They know what chicken she’s talking about. After all those long days working in the house and the field, after the husband hops on his bike, leaving his wife to hike home with the baby on her back, and the firewood and a stalk of plantains on her head, after she’s hauled the bathwater and built the fire and cooked the dinner and done the dishes and made the bed, after all that, there’s more. There’s her duty. No use saying she’s tired. Or ill. Duty calls. If she refuses to have sex with her husband, he may use force. He may beat her. He may rape her. Or he may eat a fat chicken. He’s entitled to it, by tradition, if she turns him down. Come morning he can go to the poultry seller and select the plumpest chicken in stock. He can arrange for someone to cook it. He can eat the whole bird. And he can send the bill to his wife. (Some tribes require the wife to select and cook the chicken herself. This variation prevents her from sticking the husband with some skinny bird.) It’s no joke. When the poultry seller comes round to collect, she must find a way to pay. Which means more work, more sacrifice, and probably greater submission to her duty.
We’ve been talking again—still—about the unrelenting work that fills the lives of these women. We’re nearing the end of the five-week project, and I now have over four thousand photos in my computer, most of them showing a woman or women at work. Sometimes men can be seen in the background, riding their bicycles, or sitting together talking or drinking beer, or sauntering along in smart clothes freshly washed and pressed by some woman. In fairness, I have to say that we have photos of men at work as well, but not many. Somehow as we reviewed the week’s work, the conversation led us through the bedroom to the poultry market. Frankly I’m surprised because the women are extraordinarily reluctant to talk about any personal problem. It’s as though they’ve sworn an oath of silence. To confide in another woman—other women—about marital difficulties or other personal problems is “shameful.” It’s also an admission of guilt and inadequacy since all problems are considered to be the fault of a woman. So you see how well that system serves the men whom the women’s silence protects.
I told them that in my country and many others the movement for women’s rights began when women started to talk to one another about their problems and to look for common solutions. Tanou backed me up. Since then, a few women have spoken up from time to time. One wanted to tell about why she left her husband in the city and came home to the village. Another wanted help figuring out how to get the man she’s lived with for twelve years to marry her. (He isn’t “ready” yet, though they have six children.) Each time some other woman—often the Imam’s wife, or rather one of his wives—says that such problems should be discussed only with one’s husband. Never mind that in most cases the problem and the husband are one and the same. But lately, I’ve noticed, when a woman speaks of personal matters, the admonition to keep silent comes only after she has spoken, after she has been heard.
“What if you refused to pay for the chicken?” Tanou asks.“You can’t do that,” says one woman. She seems horrified. “He’s already eaten it.” “Did you eat any of it?” Tanou asks. “No, no!” The women laugh at the impossibility of such a thing. “No, you didn’t. So why should you pay for it? What would happen if you refused to pay?” The women stir nervously. Then one ventures: “Maybe next time the poultry man wouldn’t be so quick to give my husband such a fat chicken.” “Ah haaaa,” says Tanou. One says, “Then he would beat me for sure.” But she laughs anyway. Another says, “What if we all refused to pay the poultry man?” “Ah haaaa,” say the other women. Something to think about.
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6 December, 2007 at 2:23 pm
Just when I thought I’d heard of everything…I have to appologise to these women for always wondering why they had kids they could ill afford to support?! Now I know they seem to have little or no choice.It is not my place to suggest all these women band together and demand justice; easy for me to say this but it could be a death sentence for them…
6 December, 2007 at 3:17 pm
Bonjour Madames et Madamoiselles, comme ca vas? Well. Twas my birthday yesterday & I finally got to my email today. If you’re curious, I was taken out to dinner, accompanied by my ex-husband, 2 sons & mother-in-law. We had a beautiful dinner, picked a movie of my choice then home for cake & ice cream. All chocolate. I didn’t have to pay. Twas most beautiful time. My own family live in Toronto & I live 1240 km north.
My ex and I agreed, long ago, that we would maintain a truce between us & tell our families to do so also to keep a full blown heartache from our sons. Our break hurt them enough & we decided to protect them from more as much as possible.
We are Native American & women here are also struggling for their Rights with little support from the dominant society. It is tough but it is a *Living* lesson and experience that our children get to observe and learn from for their own future.
I tell my children it started with the Church, Government & overall Colonialism for us. Before that, women were Equals & revered for their ability to give Life, just like the Earth. Women were to be protected, cherished, respected & honored.
Traditional Natives are trying to revive those Teachings. I get my own sons to pass on their own lessons to prevent Violence & Suicide. Merci elles! :)
6 December, 2007 at 3:27 pm
Dear Ann
After reading most of the problems and issues of Cote d’ivore women. I think women should me made aware of their Rights and they need to stand up together to say ‘no’ to their old patriarchal traditions and customs of the past. All the best to your project and hope it will bring an effective change for betterment of womenhood of Cote d’Ivore
6 December, 2007 at 7:45 pm
Are these African customs more entrenched in Africa than are American customs in America?
Violence is learned behaviour and it can be unlearned, as Ann Jones says.
I hope the men are listening to these women.
6 December, 2007 at 9:04 pm
I wish to congratulate you for the effort you have put into exposing the issues affecting women. Not knowing how much time you spent with each group of women before you expected them to share their personal issues I would not want to judge you but I believe that not too many people anywhere in the world would be willing to share their personal issues. While it is primarily critical for the development agency to get the stories for advocacy which is hoped to benefit women in the long term, each woman would want to protect their privacy. The rationale is why expose yourself if you cannot get immediate recourse, they would rather protect their public dignity. Often as development agents we over simplify things for our convenience, we often assume that any group of women have the same issues and they should gladly share. It is relatively easy to group poor women for any initiative and sometimes through our good intentions we erode their dignity. While literacy can be a constraint, I believe anonymus questionnaires would be the ideal tool to capture the issues followed by indepth focus group discussions on the emerging issues. It becomes easier for the participants to contribute to this debate as it is more dignified than a forum which borders on public “confession” of personal issues. Thank you once again for the vision
7 December, 2007 at 11:48 am
Your wonderful storytelling has made me feel such empathy, fear and hope for your friends. What a responsibility for you to take on — encouraging these discussions. What a brave action for these women to take, standing up to entrenched power and tradition. I wish them the best with all my heart.