In telling this very personal narrative of how I came to do this research and more specifically, how I came to do this research in Sierra Leone, I chose to omit the actual research part and go directly to my decision to start a project funding girls’ scholarships in Kono. I mentioned earlier that my Amherst based friend-Goldy had started a United States based NGO called Mt. Top for Sierra Leone Women. Goldy and I raised money and donated it to an organization in Sierra Leone working to end female genital cutting. Additionally, my friend, Maxine Sow, now a member of the Sierra Leone Parliament, had come to meet the women involved in the NGO and a decision was taken to begin supporting her in creating a leadership institute for women in Sierra Leone.
The idea of helping others, tzedakah in Hebrew, is a fundamental tenant of all religions. As an observant Jew, tzedakah is part of my daily life. The website Judaism 101, explains,
. . . giving to charity is an almost instinctive Jewish response to express thanks to G-d, to ask forgiveness from G-d, or to request a favor from G-d. According to Jewish tradition, the spiritual benefit of giving to the poor is so great that a beggar actually does the giver a favor by giving a person the opportunity to perform tzedakah. (Rich, 5772)
Tzedakah was a value instilled in me by my family. My family was a foster family to
our home, paid for college for others, and sponsored two children in Gambia through a local Gambian NGO. In our charitable acts, we try to remember the eight levels of
tzedakah in Judaism. The least meritorious is to give begrudgingly. The most
meritorious is to assist the recipient to become self-reliant.
With this background, I listened to the harsh words that Mr. Monku and the KDO staff had for foreign researchers who came to Kono, used up their host’s resources, such as petrol, time, and space, and gave little back. They complained bitterly about the researchers who came to their office, often unannounced, expecting interviews, tours of the diamond mining area, introductions to local leaders and affected communities, then left without ‘giving back to the community’ in any way. They complained most about the researchers who came and never sent their final work back to them. It was not only the lack of triangulation, in that the researchers had often portrayed Kono in ways that KDO did not agree, but also the lack of respect in not sharing the research findings of work that KDO had significantly contributed. Indeed, as I used their offices, I saw a constant stream of researchers, reporters, and international development workers coming in, demanding time and knowledge then leaving without sending their findings, reports, or dissertations back to KDO.
I also saw the ways in which the poorest of the girls I was interviewing were marginalized in schooling. For example, to attend the sixth grade graduation
ceremony, the girls were required to purchase a coat and scarf very much like the commencement gowns and hoods worn for high school and university graduations in the states. Additionally the families were required to purchase a specific cloth from the school and have a tailor make a dress or shirt for all of the family members to wear to the graduation. It is common for churches, clubs, family groups, weddings,
and political ceremonies to require all in attendance to have a dress or shirt made from a particular cloth. I have had special cloth-dresses for Maxine’s brother’s wedding and for her political celebrations that identify me as part of the inner circle. However, for the families of some of the girls I was interviewing to find the money for special ceremonial gowns and clothes put an undue burden on their resources. One school, in particular, would not permit any girl or her family to attend graduation if they did not have both the commencement gown and the family dressed in the special cloth. It was perhaps a spontaneous reaction. However after listening to the headmistress admonish the pupils at the school assembly that if they did not buy the special cloth from her by Friday, they would not be allowed to attend the graduation ceremony. Additionally they would not be permitted to attend school the following week. I then, privately gave the headmistress 100,000 Le or about $25. I asked her to buy the cloth for the five girls in that school that I was interviewing and to give cloth to other needy girls so that all could attend the graduation. I asked her not to tell the children or their families where the money had come from. While this was decidedly helpful for those few girls and their families, it is clear that one small contribution did not begin to change the underlying issues.
That graduation was at the end of my first year and/second round of
interviews, and although my modest gift was a spontaneous gesture and hopefully a somewhat anonymous one, it led me to some deep reflection and discussion with Mr. Monku of KDO, Maxine, Goldy and all those who had supported my research. I knew that I needed to give back to the community in a meaningful, more sustainable way, not as a one-off gesture, but that doing so should not interfere with my research. We decided that through Mt. Top for Sierra Leone Women and KDO, we could start a
small scholarship program for girls. The idea was to fund education for needy girls after they had made the leap from primary school to junior secondary school. At first, it was only to provide cash for the third semester’s tuition because it is the most difficult time for agricultural families to provide.
The third term of junior secondary school for many of the girls fell after my third and what I thought at the time was my final data gathering interviews in Kono. I asked, Frankie, my research assistant, to assist me in providing scholarships. I
discussed with Frankie how to do this through Mt. Top and how to keep my role confidential. Frankie, Mr. Monku, and I assessed the thirty girls that I had been interviewing and chose five of them that were currently selling groundnuts, charcoal, or vegetables after school and on weekends to receive the third trimester tuition fees. We agreed that after the third round of interviews, when I had left Kono, Frankie would distribute five scholarships using Mt. Top’s name but using the KDO vehicle. Man plans and God laughs.
The next morning one of the girls, Mariama arrived with a chicken under her arm, thanking me for the tuition for the third trimester. Throughout the day, the other four arrived thanking me for their scholarships. Other girls came, as they often did, to play, sit on the porch and see what weird and wild thing I might be eating -- hummus and pita bread for example. So those that had received money privately learned that not all of them had received scholarships and I learned that when my driver, after our last interview celebration, went to drop Frankie off they had driven to the five girl’s homes, given the money and announced that I was the benefactor. I was angry and disturbed but none of the Sierra Leoneans had a problem with the girls knowing who had given the scholarships. When I called to complain, both Frankie and Mr. Monku
laughed at my white-lady behavior and informed me that there were no secrets in Kono.
The following year, 2012, I returned to Kono with enough money to pay for school fees, shoes, books, and uniforms for ten girls. I gathered the five girls that had received scholarships the previous year and told them that Mt. Top would pay for their school fees, shoes, books, and uniforms again this year. Moreover, that they had a choice to make: Mt. Top could pay for their lesson fees, sports day fee,
Thanksgiving Day fee, and all the other little fees that schools charge throughout the year for only those five girls or Mt. Top could sponsor five additional girls. I left them alone to decide what they wanted to do and within minutes, they called me back onto the porch and said that they wanted Mt. Top to sponsor five additional girls. They also wanted final approval of the five additional girls because they said that they knew far better than Frankie and Mr. Monku which girls were really, really poor.
Elsie, Maxine’s 22-year-old daughter, and her best friend, Little Mama, came to Kono from Freetown to coordinate the scholarships. Elsie and Little Mama bought the books, arranged for the uniforms, and took care of other logistics. I continued to interview the girls and tried to separate myself from the scholarships.