In honorary of Peter Geschiere,articulation of reproduction: Parents,daughters,and education in north Cameroonian society

Dona is a Pullo woman

We have been close friends since 1986. I followed her life, the lives of her children and her extended family over the years.

Her father was an Islamic teacher, born around 1930, whose parents had left their nomadic lifestyle. In nomad society the genders are much segregated, but women are very autonomous and respected for their skills and economic abilities (Van Santen 2014d). His parents had settled in a village in the Far North Province. This sentence already contains some of the problems of a cultural translation. For long, people’s age was not a measure of anything. Not many people knew their age. The categorisation of time in Cameroonian Islamic society, although confronted with Western notions of time in the process of colonisation and globalisation, is distinct from Judea-Christian linear time. Arabic education and time-counting does not use the Gregorian calendar but a lunar calendar, (رأس السنة الھجریة Ras as-Sana al-Hijreya, or لتقویم الھجري; at-taqwim al- hijri), in which Islamic holy days and festivals can be calculated. Time–space experiences are regulated by daily prayers, by Ramadan, by various Islamic feasts and by the continuity of a person after death in a life in the hereafter. People's physical development could be used to determine their age, as well as their time of ‘marriage’.

So, I include my own cultural background where linear time is important to understand historical developments when I want to specify the time I think her father must have been born. Before his ‘marriage’ Dona’s father himself did go to Kano in northern Nigeria ‘in search of (Islamic) knowledge’ - as the local expression has it -. He was educated in basic Islamic theology, jurisprudence, Arabic language, and poetry. In those days itinerant religious leaders travelled around (see also Saab and Abba 1994), and those who preferred to study religion more extensively decided for themselves to go elsewhere – Kano above all was the place to be – and they could return home with the knowledge called defterinkeewu: the ability to read and write. This gave them (they were mostly men) access to power and respect. Dona’s father had strengthened his position in this respect because in the first period of his marriage he remained an itinerant religious teacher to spread the knowledge he had acquired during his then young life. These days the various discourses reach people’s ‘homes’ in different ways: Dona and her daughter Maimouna access them not by travelling themselves but through the media, in this way learning about interpretations of Islam from people living elsewhere in the Islamic world. Religious leaders and intellectuals like Dona’s father must relate to these different views and need to take positions on them whether they like it or not, because people seek their guidance on all sorts of life issues. Dona's father was also skilled in magical knowledge and throughout his life people sought his advice. He shared his knowledge with many colleagues, pupils and of course also his own children.

Dona herself became a marabout, a religious teacher and regularly discussed all sorts of matters with her father. However, she had never been to the colonial based schools. Her father sent his boys to secular school, but not his girls. When I discussed these matters with him in 1992, he mentioned that he did not see the necessity for girls to be educated in ‘the knowledge of the whites’. For him it was the knowledge of the former colonials, and now the Christian government in the South (see also: Van Santen 2013/2014a; 2013/2014c); out of respect for him I did not openly disagree with his view, although I thought it reflected an old-fashioned attitude that had disadvantaged his daughters. Only later did I realise that he did not want to bother his daughters with it (Van Santen 2013/2014c). His children – a newer generation including Dona – favoured Western education for girls so Donna and her many sisters and brothers in turn sent all their daughters to French schools. Having fathered many children over a long period of time, some of his granddaughters are the same age as his own youngest children.

Dona ‘got married’ at a young age, when her physical development (Van Santen 2014c) indicated that she could become sexually active. Members of the older generation still always express that girls should preferably ‘get married’ when they start to become interested in the opposite sex. It is easy to consider this as ‘child marriage’, but boys should also ‘get married’ well before the age of twenty (Van Santen 2010). In a film I discuss this with a man who was given a wife ‘like a rope’ to prevent him from running away to Kano, to continue his studies (Van Santen 2007a; 2007b). The whole concept of marriage is a ‘western’ or ‘colonial’ concept that should be revised, but this is not the place to do so. Although there have been changes in ‘marriage', divorce was and is easy.

When I became friends with Dona she had three children and decided to use family planning as she wanted to have ‘only’ six children. Dona was very much in favour of secular education for all her children, but her positive attitude to education was most evident in her encouragement of her second daughter, Maimouna (Van Santen 2010). She considered this daughter to be more intelligent than Maimouna’s older brother and daughter and would relieve her of small household chores, excusing her by saying: “Look how clumsy she can be in crashing peanuts – of course also a form of education - , she is not fit for household jobs”.

Maimouna herself was eager to read anything she could get her hands on. Her father, who agreed with his wife about education, felt sorry for his daughter because she had to work so hard at school. However, she could deduce his support in the small amounts of money he gave her to buy snacks for the long hours at school (Van Santen 2005). As a child, Maimouna felt uncomfortable about having to remove her headscarf at school due to the state’s laic character, but she eventually decided that a secular education was more important to her, and she was determined to go to university. She passed her final exams and received her degree the year her father died. She was very very sad but went to the capital to start her first years of her university. She got her bachelor’s and master’s degrees.

I will give you her written words as an example of her reflections as a child, about her being a Muslim, and about her contact with the anthropologist, the nasaara, – derived from the word Nazareth, the white woman:

A child idealises everything: I went to the Qur’an school at a young age, and after that entered the ‘school of the Nasaara-en, the ‘whites’, as goes the expression here. Every time when we finished Qur’an school and we had learnt about God and the angels sitting on our shoulders and watching us, about hell, about everything that is good and bad, I always wondered: “and those who are not Muslims, what will happen to them?” And I considered myself to be very lucky to be a Muslim, to have been born into a Muslim family, and I felt so sorry for those who were not.

We can conclude that, in general, ‘white people’ are still seen as colonisers. Scholarly education is seen as a colonial legacy, which is evident not only in the words of Dona’s grandfather, but also in those of Maimouna, when she speaks of the ‘schools of the whites’, nasaara’en.

The fact that the new Islamic schools have many girls and that they are encouraged to continue their education is in keeping with the tradition of education for women in Arabic scripture in this society. However, the new schools have another advantage: most parents no longer must fear that secular education will be at the expense of an Islamic tradition in one way or another, hence the success of the new Islamic schools. ³

These schools had not yet been built in Maimouna's town, but her parents had great confidence in her. The fact that Maimouna did not ‘marry' at the same ‘age' as her mother was linked to her entry into the new ‘colonial-based' education system, even though her mother had always favoured ‘marriage’ at a slightly later ‘age' than her own.

When Maimouna wanted to get married in a ‘modern' way - no fuss, no bride wealth, a simple exchange between families, with the wedding dates squeezed in between exams when it suited her - to an Islamic Fulbe classmate, both her mother and her brother suddenly brought up the rules of ‘marriage' from the past. As her brother said: “What does she think? That we would give her away to anyone without asking the family? Have we ever done that? This guy, he never introduced himself properly, we only know his family from ‘hearsay', I refuse!”

And Dona, the mother, said: “What's the hurry? Is he the only man in the world? You are not pregnant, are you, that you wanted to get married so quickly? Are we, I as a mother, you as my daughter, to get on bad terms because of a man?”

Maimouna herself was furious: “Nobody takes my feelings into account! They want to postpone the wedding and set the date when I have to take my exams. I'll wait, but I'm very, very angry!

In her ‘ethnic background’, ‘class’, if you like, education is normal for all members of society. However, the addition of new colonial-based systems, can get in the way of the ‘marriage’ system, which many members of the society are less keen to change.

Maimouna finished her studies. Her mother was still angry with her, but I insisted that she attend the ceremony arguing that if she did not, she would always regret it. She was very proud of her daughter afterwards. Maimouna did get married - her mother and the family attended - and she settled in town and became a teacher. Her husband, a philosopher also became a teacher. They have two daughters, who attend school and spend their holidays with their grandmother, to the delight of both. Of Dona's other daughters one became a nurse, and the other one is at university as is her youngest son. Two of her sons have married.

In July 2022, Maimouna sent me a film of her children singing goodbye - in perfect English - to the teacher of the ‘cours préparatoire' -, at the private Islamic school. She explained to me that education in these schools is fat better than in public schools, though also much more expensive (E 91,50 instead of E 3) and that there are only 30/40 children in a classroom (in public schools up to 160/190). The money is used to pay teachers, but as stated, the schools are also subsided by Arab NGO's. Many parents cannot afford the money.

My second example is an Islamised Mafa, Maama Laila (grandmother of Laila)

The Mafa is one of the mountainous kinship groups. She was a mother of about 55 years when I first met her. I have followed her, her daughter, and her granddaughter in their respective lives since 1987. When she was young, schools were not even around.

She Islamised after two ‘marriages’ in the mountains. She tells us about her motives for changing religion, the actual changes this brought about in her life and her relationship with her daughter. In her own words:

“ I, Daada Robert [mother of Robert, my son], I like to trade to find some money. I want to buy my own piece of land and I will build my own house there. And then I would also like to have someone to talk. [Having a husband is always nice, she means]. And if one day I am no longer alive, my daughter and Laila, can take over my trade and then if one day she no longer gets along with her husband, she can live in that house.

When she was young schools there were not even schools in the area where she lived. She states:

When I was with my first husbands, I worked in the fields and harvested, I raised chickens, I cut wood, I fetched water, and all those things a woman has taught to do – education too -. My daughter did not go to school. I did my sacrifice in my own personal jar, I prepared the millet beer, and I knew all the things a Mafa woman was supposed to know. After eight years I left my husband, he made me suffer. When my father saw this, he said to him, “It was me who gave you my daughter and now you are making her suffer. Give me back my daughter.” I went back to live with my father. You see, in those days we still walked around naked and when the white men came, they told us to put on clothes. He had not given me any. My father returned the bride-wealth, but my husband lied and increased the amount. He had only given six goats and then he said he had given ten. Then I got another husband and with him I stayed for twelve years without having any children. Then I left, because I did not have children. I decided to Islamise (convert to Islam) because I was angry. I always had to sacrifice to beget children and I still did not get any. When you are a Muslim, nobody has any say over you anymore, you can do your own prayers. I stayed in town with another member of my family, someone who had already Islamised. She also told me that it was better to Islamise. I can pray to Allah now. You see, the Mafa call their God Jigilé, the Muslims call him Allah. It is always the same God. But when you have become a Muslim, instead of making an offering, you pray. The marabout (religious leader) showed me how to wash my hands, my feet, how to pray, how to wash my face, how to put water into my mouth twice and then start praying...that's all. I Islamised. My big brother said he did not care; I could choose my own religion; it wouldn't make any difference to him. You see, my eldest brother does his sacrifice, the second brother had become a Christian, and I became a Muslim.

Her daughter did not go to school either. She married a Mafa Muslim man, much older than herself who had Islamised when he was young (his parents had been killed by bandits, the French colonialists had taken him and his brother to the Fulbe lamido, the chief, who integrated them into his extended family). Her first child, a girl, she gave away to be raised by her mother. This is a common custom in Fulbe society, where most first children are raised by the grandparents, while in Mafa society the children belong to the patrilineage of the father. It is often taken over by new converts.

Maama Laila sent her granddaughter to Qur’an lessons and to primary school, but the granddaughter did not finish this school. There was a lack of motivation and money to pay for the necessary books. Like her mother and her grandmother, the granddaughter did not receive a proper Islamic education, despite the Qur'an school. There are many girls of her generation who have some basic secular and religious education but drop out soon: the desire to ‘marry’ someone they hardly know seems to be the only option. In her case, it was a Muslim man who lived in a large town 60 miles away. The marriage did not last long as she complained of being treated badly by other female members of the family (the other wife, her husband's children). A simple divorce is quite general, and many girls have expressed to me: “Oooh well, I'll just marry this man, give him a child and then I’m gone” and they start doing their ‘own things’ after that. These young women are quite autonomous, and their way of life is the reason why so many Muslim (older) men and religious leaders express their concern: “what is wrong with life, that our girls do not want to get ‘married’ ⁴ anymore, and prostitute themselves in town”! and they blame ‘modern life’.

Maama Laila’s story, that during her first marriage she still used to walk around naked, also illustrates how much has changed in a relatively short period of time – also due to colonial intervention - in terms of lifestyles and the presence of various school systems. Her case also highlights a very interesting gender relation which is fundamental to the Mafa kinship society: it links the various generations and is often forgotten. It concerns the relation between a mother and her son. In this society in old age, women come to live with their youngest sons: when they are young, women have access to land through their fathers, when they are married through their husbands, but in old age they have access to land through their youngest sons. (This recalls Raatgever’s (1983) conclusion that women’s contribution to the production process is linked to the ‘marriage’ system). By then they have long divorced and left their husbands. During my early research, I found that women who Islamise at a somewhat elderly age, like Maama Laila, are often women without sons. The Muslim community offers these women a network and safety net that does not exist in the Mafa kinship society.

Maama Laila has developed a special relationship with her only child, a girl, a relationship she would not have had, if she had kept to her ‘Pagan’ religion. For their part, Mafa men have a special relationship with especially their eldest daughter (and first and second sons ⁵ ) because of her importance in the rituals of their religion and as she is most likely to take care of him in old age. For this reason, Maama Laila’s first husband objected to the Islamisation of this daughter.

We can conclude that neither colonial-based nor Islamic education plays a prominent role in the lives of the grandmother, her daughter, and her granddaughter. It is Islamisation that has given the grandmother the autonomy to act on her own.

My last example is Sofia, also a Mafa woman

It was a matter without discussion that Sofia, a Mafa woman living in the administrative centre in the mountainous area, went to primary school. I met her in February 1987 when she was newly married and just pregnant. She became my assistant and worked with me – helping me with the interviews, typing them up afterwards etc – until June 1988. We kept in touch ever since and my children and I stayed with her many times in the years thereafter. Her father, who did not speak French but was influenced by the French colonial mission, was a Protestant vicar who could read his own language in the French scriptures. They lived in different areas in the mountains near various self-constructed churches, and always near colonial-based missionary schools. They continued to carry out agriculture. Her mother had never been to secular school, but she always encouraged her children, both daughters and sons, to go. Sofia’s parents had taken the Christians’ preaching’ very seriously: in general, Mafa women walk away from their husbands – who may have several wives – easily, leaving the children in his and his patriclan’s care. Husband-wife relationship is not the most warmheartedly gender relation in this society. As we learned from the case of Maama Laila above, the relationship between a mother and her youngest son, and between a father and his eldest daughter, is far more important. However, they were a ‘modern’ couple who discussed problems instead of ‘beating each other up', (as Sofia herself expressed it, saying that this often happened in Mafa society), and the parents had seven children all of whom went to French schools. Sofia wanted to continue high school after primary school, but her parents could not afford books, school fees, etc. So, she did all sorts of odd jobs and made food items to sell after school to pay for her studies. Her mother, who lived 15 miles away, encouraged her. At the age of seventeen she met her present husband, who had had to take care of himself since he was a small boy - he was an ‘in-between child' - (so not the first, second or last son). He was a ‘descent’ serious worker who, with some help from outside, was able to start a small business. They, in turn, were and are very supportive of each other, following the example of Sofia's’s parents. At the age of nineteen, Sofia found a job with me and gave birth to their first son, whom we carried for over a year when we went on trips for my research and during interviews. After a few years she gave birth to a daughter and again another son. Her husband’s mother came to live with the couple and looked after the children when she was at work.

Sofia continued to work, got trained as a nurse and has been working at the local hospital for a shamefully low salary already for years. Her husband’s business is doing well thanks to his consistent work policy. He regularly employs several people.

Sofia’s eldest son was given every opportunity to continue his scholarly education, but he left school halfway: he joined his father in the business. The girl and the second boy received bilingual primary education (i.e. French and English), but to continue their secondary education they had to move 60 miles. All by themselves, the two – aged 12 and 14 years old - rented a room and continued secondary education. Sofia and her husband were sometimes worried to death and tried to visit them as often as possible to encourage them. They both went to university in the English-speaking south and finished their education. The son was offered a job in India, got stuck there because of the Covid epidemic (2020-2022), stayed for two years and when he returned, they offered him a job in France. He, a pleasant youngster, visits me sometimes, which allows me to exchange all the developments in his society and, of course, in society in general.

The daughter became involved in Christian religious movements and recently got married. In the meantime, the eldest son and his girlfriend have had children, they first moved in with the parents but later set up their own household. It is quite clear that these children will go to school and if the business continue to do well and if these grandchildren have the brains and the desire, they will make every effort to send them to university.

Sofia’s daughter’s university education is rather an exceptional example for these kinship societies. Due to the colonial non-Islamic school system, non-Islamic groups were eager to attend, as they felt themselves freed from Fulbe Islamic colonialism thanks to the French. Thus, they got ahead of their Muslim Cameroonian counterparts in terms of colonial-based education. But for them, education for girls is not a matter of course. The Christian Missions were very concerned about the existing autonomy of women in this part of the world and the fact that women frequently changed husband (Abega 1994), as we have seen in the case of Maama Laila. Thus, since their installation in the area (in 1953), the Catholic and the various Protestant missions have preached material fidelity and promoted a Western type of gender relationship in which the man is the breadwinner (see also Alidou 2005: 10).