Obaa oh… this is our time.
Obaa oh… this is our time.
Oh, woman oh… this is our time!
Oh, woman oh… this is our time!
As I sat in the Spektrum Theater at the Nobel Peace Prize Concert in downtown Oslo watching the glistening red, yellow, blue and green lights on the stage and listening to Miatta Fahnbulleh belt out her signature song, Obaa, I couldn’t help feeling split in two.
On the one hand I felt euphoric because just a day before, Liberians all over the world, regardless of their political persuasion, socio-economic background or status had a reason to pause and celebrate. Two of our own, President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf and activist Leymah Gbowee, were conferred with one of the most prestigious awards of our time: the Nobel Peace Prize. For those of us fortunate enough to be in Oslo for the festivities — and there were many who travelled from the US, Europe and Africa — it was a double honour.
On the other hand, I couldn’t ignore a sombre cloud that hung over the occasion, suspended in the air like an ominous sign that said, “We have not yet arrived.” I couldn’t squelch the feeling that this cannot be our time until all Liberian women and girls are valued in the same way we celebrated our Nobel laureates. President Johnson Sirleaf and Gbowee acknowledged in their respective Nobel lectures the awesome challenges that Liberian women and girls, and by extension women and girls throughout the world, still face.
Surely, this cannot be our time when fewer women inhabit a seat in the legislature than they did six years ago, though a woman holds the mantle of executive power. In some progressive countries like Rwanda, women comprise over 50% of Parliament. Liberian women will represent less than 10% of the 53rd National Legislature when they convene in January 2012. This cannot be our time when local governance structures provide even fewer opportunities for women to lead, and by extension, make decisions fundamental to their livelihoods.
This cannot be our time when our Aliens and Nationality Law does not permit women to pass on citizenship to their children. This cannot be our time when in some cases, women’s access to land ownership and the justice system remains tenuous.
This cannot be our time when Liberian women and girls are raped with impunity, or suffer in silence while their innocence is negotiated through financial transactions between their fathers & mothers and their male perpetrators. In a country in which young girls and women are defiled on a regular basis, this cannot be our time.
This cannot be our time when the girl child is relegated to selling in the market, while her brother goes to school in his crisp new uniform and shiny black shoes. This cannot be our time when young girls enrolled in school must come home, cook, clean, wash and take care of their younger siblings before devoting a sliver of time to their studies. And we wonder why young women lag behind in secondary and tertiary institutions and must negotiate sex with their male teachers in exchange for a passing grade.
This cannot be our time when young women shy away from pursuing technical careers in law, medicine, geology and engineering because they have been indoctrinated to believe that they can only be paralegals, nurses, social workers or teachers.
This cannot be our time when paedophilia reigns supreme, with old rusty men having sex with girls younger than their own daughters. The notion that relationships with underage women will somehow give men a life subscription to the fountain of youth is so out-dated, you’d think we were in the middle ages.
This cannot be our time when Liberian prostitutes earn only five Liberian dollars from exploitative clients who can surely afford to pay more. This cannot be our time when we allow foreigners to come into our country, dishonour our young girls and flee into the night. Our own actions have given them permission to do so.
This cannot be our time when a young woman is beaten to death by a jealous boyfriend who loved her too much to see her alive and happy with another man. This cannot be our time when a married woman is told to endure endless physical and emotional abuse because the man in her life “puts a ring on it”.
This cannot be our time when a third of Liberian women have had children by the time they turn 19 — sometimes multiple children with multiple men. This cannot be our time when women and girls cannot negotiate when to use condoms because their male partners believe STIs and HIV/Aids are South Africa’s problem, or that unsafe abortions are an appropriate contraceptive.
This cannot be our time when young girls’ bodies are mutilated, their sexual organs subjected to years of physical pain, in the name of preserving tradition.
This cannot be our time when a large number of Liberian women are employed in the informal sector, where job insecurity is a daily risk. This surely cannot be our time when women employed in the formal sector must constantly prove they are worthy, taunted by sexual advances from their bosses and male colleagues.
This cannot be our time when the nucleus of the family has withered away with our core values, with unmarried fathers and mothers unable or unwilling to protect their young daughters.
This cannot be our time when Liberian women and girls participate in their own exploitation, by not supporting one another, by not honouring one another, by not mentoring one another.
Though the odds seem stacked against us, it is clear from the stories of countless women, young and old, and the two Nobel laureates themselves, that Liberian women and girls are far from victims. We are survivors. I look forward to the day, however, when we stop surviving and begin thriving.
Then, and only then, will we be able to say that this truly is our time.
Born in Monrovia, Liberia, Robtel Neajai Pailey is an opinion fellow with New Narratives, a project supporting leading independent media in Africa. She is pursuing a doctorate in Development Studies at the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), as a Mo Ibrahim Foundation PhD Scholar.
Author
A prince with dignity and determination
Prince Ngarambe’s goals are to become Rwanda’s first transgender model and to uplift the country’s youth
The EFF’s principles are unshakeable
Unlike the ANC, the core values of the freedom fighters do not change with each leader it elects
