Solidarity
Growing up in an agricultural community in Kenya, Helen Chelimo heard whispers of the practice of female genital mutilation (FGM). But she had a different vision for herself.
She wanted to make decisions about her own body and life. So she ran away to live with a relative.
But her courage came at a price.
When she returned home for visits, she was outcast. “Mothers were despising me, saying, ‘If you’ve not undergone the practice, you are not a woman. You will not mingle with our daughters.’’’
Still, she stood strong. She finished her education, eventually marrying and becoming a teacher. Along the way, she gave birth to five daughters, none of whom underwent the procedure.
Now, she is educating the community that shunned her.
At the Chorwo Rescue Centre, which provides shelter and counselling to at-risk girls, Helen uses the stories of her daughters, four of whom have graduated from college, as examples of how women can become successful without undergoing the harmful practice.
“FGM must end,” says Reverend Joseph Chesarek, director of the centre. He began helping girls in the 1970s. “Those I rescued 48 years ago,” he says, “are now grandmothers,” breaking the cycle by rejecting what was once a rite of passage.
Fatuma Hakar knows firsthand the trauma of the practice. She was 5 years old when she was subjected to it in Kenya. “I remember there was a gathering of 20 girls,” she says. “The next thing I know is four women pinning me down and being cut with no painkiller.”
She went on to start Girlkind Kenya to educate people about the dangers of the procedure, which is illegal in Kenya but happens nonetheless.
