Passing the Baton

Today was the first day the women participants ran the group themselves. We've been rushing to finish. They volunteered to meet eight extra hours this week because we only have one week to buy the agricultural inputs that they will be distributing to people in the community who could not otherwise afford them. Yesterday they finished planning the things that they will need to do to distribute the inputs to people in the community. After we finished I told them that I would be handing everything over to them. They would be running the show. They run the meetings. They make the decisions. They set the schedule. They tell me what to do and when to do it. I still have things to teach them, but they are essentially skills that they will need as part of the implementation of their project: budgeting, accounting, proposal writing, evaluation of the project, and a couple others. They will tell me when they want me to give those presentations. They were sort of speechless when I told them this. No one said much of anything. They sat looking at me nodding their heads. I'm not sure what it meant. At first I thought it meant that they didn't really understand. Then I thought it meant that they were trying to imagine what it was going to be like. Maybe they were a little scared at what would become of the project now that I wasn't the one organizing things anymore. I don't know; I'm just guessing. Eventually, we nominated and voted on a council: chairlady, treasurer, secretary, vice-chairlady, vice-treasurer, vice-secretary, and council members.

 

Nominations were fun. They threw out each other's names, and the woman who had been nominated usually made some small shriek or comment, almost as if we were playing some kind of name game. For a second I was worried that everyone was going to be nominated for everything. By the time we got to the bottom, everyone was nominated for at least one position, and there weren't more than four nominees for each position.

 

They voted by secret ballot, and I counted. I read them aloud, and Charles drew a tick next to a person's name each time it was read off. The first one, for the chairlady, was a tie. We decided to revote, but when it came time for that, one of the women conceded to the other. Everyone commented on her selflessness and clapped for Mama Kanku, who was elected. They clapped for every person who was elected. At the end they gave another round of applause for the whole process and in recognition of the fact that we were in a state of major transition. About to go from planning the project to implementing the project. From me running it to them running it. I met with the chairlady for ten minutes after the workshop ended to tell her that I was willing to assist with the transition in any way I could. She said there was nothing she needed for tomorrow, but that she would tell me if she needed anything.

 

I was excited to start the women's workshop today. I sat in the semi circle where the women sit, instead of in the front of the classroom where I usually sit. They trickled in a bit late, as has become habit now that cultivation season is upon us. Eventually we reached critical mass and someone mentioned that we should start. Everyone looked at me, and I shrugged my shoulders, indicating that it wasn't up to me anymore. I motioned to Mama Kanku, who jumped up as though she had just remembered that she was chairlady and would be leading the group. She sat in front at the desk where I usually sit, and draped herself over the desk, leaning back onto the desktop.

 

At first it seemed as though they didn't really know what to do. We started with a song, the way that I've been forcing them to start the workshops for the past two months. When I started it, I was worried they would think it was silly, but it really helps to get the energy up. Sometimes I feel frustrated, anxious, upset, or just don't have much energy before we begin. Those sixty second songs almost always put me in a good mood. Today was an especially loud and energetic song. Eventually, they started the meeting by going into the first piece of work we had planned to do - making a list of the qualifications for people who will get inputs. They included: no drunkards, no thieves, no lazy people, only happy people, only permanent residents, and no one cultivating less than one lima.

 

It started out fairly quiet. The women mostly spoke one at a time. After a half an hour, you'd have thought there were thirty people in the room. The women were almost shouting over one another. At points it may have seemed to someone who just stepped into the room like they were in the midst of a fierce argument. I now recognize that this is how they interact and discuss issues. They were excited. Everyone was participating. Half the time I asked Charles what they were saying he would simply respond, "They are discussing," which means that he doesn't think it's worth telling me. He usually just informs me of the decisions they make, unless I push him to translate everything.

 

They kept up this intensity for almost the entire remaining hour and a half. Sitting in the back of the classroom, where I had moved because there wasn't enough room for me in the semi-circle once everyone arrived, I had a bit of time to reflect while they were "discussing." I thought about how seriously they were taking this. How after just one day it was no longer just my project or a project of PACE or a FORGE project. It was their project. They cared about it. They needed it to succeed. The community was counting on them. They were counting on each other. In one day I was almost unnecessary. I was thrilled at how seemingly dispensable I was. Of course they would need me to teach them a few more things later, but at the moment they had all they needed. I was seeing all the things I had learned in school about participatory development and empowerment happen in front of my eyes. It was no longer just a theory in an article I was reading for school. It was happening in front of me. For the first time ever, I felt like the project couldn't possibly fail. It may not go perfectly. It may not realize it's full potential immediately. But it will not fail. That's what I was thinking. It's a rare occasion that I am not guardedly pessimistic - considering all the ways that something could fail. However, at that moment in that noisy classroom, with powerful voices ricocheting off the concrete walls, you couldn't have convinced me that failure was even a remote possibility.