Niger Currents
Exploring life and technology along the Niger river

I am wandering through the market lost in thought when suddenly my mind snaps to attention. Someone is calling me by name. My mind has learned to filter out the constant calls of "toubab" (the Malinke name for white person) that I often hear in any crowded area, so it must be someone I know. As I glance to the right, I see Mariam grinning at me. Her smile is infectious. I grin back and walk over to her stall. Mariam introduces me to the two family members in her stall and we exchange greetings as best we can, given my lack of Malinke. Just a few hours ago, before I had met Mariam and her friends, I had been disappointed that we had stopped short of our intended destination, but now I am elated that we have had the opportunity to meet Mariam and the Fodekaria women's group...

Earlier that afternoon we had met with Mariam and a few other members of the women's group to learn more about their market garden and their latest project: a new well to provide water for their entire 1.5 acre garden.

Mariam, Bofedima, Jabafin, Finaba and a male member, Caramo, sat with us and took the time to explain their group's work. The midday sun had drained my energy and as we started the meeting all I could think about was taking a nap. But I was quickly drawn in by these women, their energy and commitment capturing my undivided attention. I knew that we had come across a very special group.

Each of these women spoke passionately and enthusiastically about the success of the garden, proudly explaining that the money for their latest project had come solely from the profits of the garden.

Our first stop in Fodekaria had been at the garden itself. It was market day so none of the women were there, but despite the lack of activity we were impressed both by its size and well-organized layout.

The hand-dug well in progress impressed as well. I honestly think it was the largest hand-dug well I have ever seen. We chatted briefly with Mussa, who had dug the hole 20 feet across and as deep as 25 feet. We hoped someone else was helping him, but there was no one else in sight - just one extremely strong man, one giant pit and one growing pile of dirt. It's amazing what people can accomplish with their hands. We left the garden eager to learn more - any women's group that is organising this sort of infrastructure project is obviously something special.

Our meeting with the women definitely didn't disappoint. This is a group that has been active for 14 years and is still going strong with over 60 members. One thing that always impresses me about this sort of group is the ability to save towards a goal, despite having most of the members living within the grasp of poverty. This is especially difficult for women in rural communities in Guinea and Mali, where men traditionally control most of the wealth in the household. But it seems that the women's group creates an opportunity for saving: the money stays with the group and isn't for any one member, which allows the women to save without having to explicitly challenge existing social norms. When the Fodekaria group started out 14 years ago, they collected weekly contributions for two years before they had enough money to buy their land, dig wells and put up a fence around the property. It's hard for me to imagine the strength and foresight it takes to save towards something for as long as two years in a rural community; the struggle to meet daily needs makes it very difficult to put aside hard earned cash for something that a person won't benefit from in the near future.

Somehow this group was able to save and has continued to for 14 years. For now, the group has decided to invest all of the profits from the garden towards future projects. Their current goal is to purchase equipment to mechanically process rice and groundnuts (peanuts). They say this equipment would allow the group to process many of the locally grown foodstuffs into value-added products, thereby increasing household incomes. This might also reduce the amount of crops that are lost after harvest, as processed products are usually less likely to spoil and are often easier to store.

I wish I had had more time with the women in Fodekaria to gain a better understanding of how they plan to make use of this new equipment. Although the benefits of mechanical processing seem clear in many cases, ensuring that the equipment is actually of benefit can be a complicated matter. There are still so many questions in my mind: Do they have a qualified operator? How will they manage to keep the equipment maintained and pay regular bills? Is there an adequate supply of groundnuts and rice available? Will the women have time to take on a new activity? Will they be competing against male farmers who want to process their own crops?

Despite the challenges of their endeavour, I'm both happy and amazed that these women are "going for it." I spent the past two years working with Engineers Without Borders Canada trying to promote this sort of technology with the Multifunctional Platform program in Ghana. These amazing women have not only figured out the benefits of post-processing, but they are able to articulate why they need this equipment so clearly and forcefully that most people couldn't help but agree. It is clear that they are committed to making this happen, with or without outside help.

I wonder how much outside help would be of benefit to them. There is a fine balance in a situation like this. Working independently has helped this group become proactive in solving their own problems and has created a sense of ownership among the members of the group's activities. But it is clear that the support and training that a nongovernmental organisation could provide might also be of benefit. One of the challenges in my work on the Multifunctional Platform program was providing the necessary support and training while promoting a sense of ownership and an independent and proactive approach.

As the meeting is coming to a close, the women realize that in their excitement about "the machines" they almost forget to mention their next project - building a food storage facility for the community. As the women explain, hunger is very much a seasonal problem and having the ability to store food would help alleviate some of the food shortages they face. I can't help but be amazed at how big these women think.

It's admittedly difficult for Eli and me to really understand what life is like for women here. It's a world that is hard for two male foreigners to enter. But we can certainly see how hard-working women are - they take care of the children, fetch water, prepare food, do a multitude of other domestic chores, and assist their husbands on the farm. Somehow, along with all of this, many women also find time to establish and cultivate their own additional plot of farmland. Ishmael, our guide, said what was on all our minds when he spoke about the load carried by women in his country. I'm glad to have Ishmael with us: he understands that we want to gain an insider's perspective on the life of rural women and seems supportive of us trying to find ways of understanding their world. He and I have talked several times about how we could interact with women. Could we tell the men that I want to learn how to cook Guinean food so I can teach my (fictional) wife to cook it for me back home, since introducing the concept of men doing tasks traditionally considered women's work might complicate matters? What else might work?

While I stand with Mariam in the market and think back to our meeting earlier that day, I can't help but smile at this remarkable woman and her friends. This women's group thinks big, follows through with their ideas and does it in such a casual and confident manner as if to say "hey it's no big deal." We hadn't intended to stop in Fodekaria, but we are certainly thankful that we did. We had originally planned to split the road between Kankan and Siguiri, the last major town before the Malian border, into two days of riding with a few days in the middle in Djelibakoro, on the banks of the Niger. But our early stop in Fodekaria has raised our spirits. At the same time, the hills have disappeared, the humidity has dropped and the roads have turned from shoddy and half-paved to brand new asphalt. Life on the bikes has definitely gotten easier, something Eli, Ishamel and I all appreciate after four days in the hills and after the humidity between Kissidougou and Kankan.