female travel

When Human Rights Override Culture

by Ekua on March 8, 2013 · 6 comments in female travel,race/culture/identity

Culture as it pertains to travelers can be a touchy subject. Residual colonizer guilt is an enormous yet unspoken aspect of the way travelers from the so-called first world feel that they should approach the different cultures they visit. Adding to the guilt is an underlying sense of urgency about the way unique cultures seem to be rapidly fading into an increasingly homogenized world.

Out of these worries, the “good traveler” is born; the kind of traveler who goes to great lengths to be perfect on the road, the “I do as the locals do” types who never let an analytical remark about a place slip out of their mouths.

To a certain extent, it’s a noble cause. But the problem with the rules of being a “good traveler” is that they seem to be standardized for the whole big and varied world. This can easily lead to disregarding a culture’s serious issues under the guise of respecting the culture.

In particular, this mindset can be incredibly blind to women’s rights around the world. When it comes the institutionalized covering up of women (including cultures that don’t hold men accountable for their actions and insist that women are the ones responsible for their safety by dressing “appropriately”) and barring women from certain activities or going to certain places, it’s incomprehensible that so many people—including women who would never stand for that at home—enable it with the line, “It’s just their culture!”

But behind what we see and experience as travelers is likely a much worse scenario for the women who have to live with it every day of their lives and have no set date to leave. As travelers, we only see the outermost layers of institutionalized or accepted oppression and violence towards women, and we have the privilege of knowing we will eventually hop on a plane and leave.

Of course, I don’t recommend that you put yourself in harm’s way by disregarding local customs when you travel, and don’t think that you alone can show up change things. But rethink the way you talk about oppressive cultural norms in your discussions and your travel writing. Don’t be afraid to be honest and call oppression what it is. And think about who you’re really empowering when you say, “It’s just their culture!” Are you supporting the true heart of a culture or a patriarchal establishment that wishes to maintain its power?

Culture is not a stagnant thing that we should expect to infinitely continue as it is. Culture can be many beautiful things–art, music, food, a different way of interacting with people. It absolutely does not have to be oppressive. And as Desmond Tutu eloquently states in this video, traditions were created by humans, and they can always be changed by humans:

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Into the Great Wide Open Spaces of Namibia: An Introduction

by Ekua on September 3, 2012 · 15 comments in d.i.y. travel,female travel,Namibia,why i travel

One day your mother calls you to say that she’s been accepted into the Peace Corps. And she’s being placed in Namibia. As soon as she tells you, she correctly guesses that you’re already planning your visit.

You share the news with your friends. Many of them are puzzled. “Um, where’s Namibia?” they ask. You get used to explaining that it’s north of South Africa on the western side and in fact, it used to be ruled by South Africa.

Five months later, you send your mom off at the airport and in this strange role reversal, things get real. The change that has been slowly creeping towards you is now here.

After she arrives in Namibia, you hear weekly updates about training process, new people she’s met, and the country. Namibia sounds even stranger than you imagined. You can’t wait to see it for yourself.

Then three months later, you’re off to Namibia via London and Johannesburg. Somehow in the winter holiday crowds at Heathrow, you quickly find your sister who has arrived before you from LA. You’ve gotten used to spending hours alone at Heathrow, jetlagged and bored and it’s nice to have company this time.

You eat Japanese food, partly because you know it’s a decent restaurant as far as airport food goes, and partly because you want to have something you’ll be unlikely to find for the next two weeks or so.

You wander aimlessly around the airport with your sister and laugh at the silly London-themed souvenirs in the gift shops. You stand and skim through magazines and browse through pretty much every store. Then you wait. And wait some more.

Finally the heavenly Heathrow moment comes when the screen tells you what gate you’ll be at. You take the tram to the gate and board your flight to Johannesburg. You’re giddy. This is one of those parts of the world you’ve dreamed about visiting, but didn’t fully expect to ever get there. And you’re getting there.

You look out the window, down at Gaborone, Botswana, a patch of buildings in the middle of nothingness. You think of The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series that your mom got you into. “Next time,” you say to yourself. And then you finally you land in the urban sprawl of Johannesburg.

At the airport you encounter a kind of lackadaisical security that is long gone from many other airports around the world. It’s so quick to go through it that you’re expecting more at the other end because you’ve gotten so used to the strip down, liquids in bag routine.

You have another layover, but you don’t have time to explore the city, so you explore the airport. A giant beaded statue of Nelson Mandela invites you to shake his hand. Food stores sell jerky made with animals you’ve never heard of such as “oryx”. Little do you know that you’re about to see all of those animals en masse. Gift shops carry limitless supplies of beaded jewelery, animal print everything, and carvings everywhere. Everything fits the bill of “exotic” items you’re supposed to bring home from Africa. You probably shouldn’t love these stores, but you do. The kitsch draws you in while your sister pulls you away because it’s almost time to board.

It’s a quick flight to Namibia from there and you’re struck by how empty it looks down below. Roads that seem to lead to nowhere cut through the emptiness. You’ve never seen so much open space. As you descend, even the capital city looks quiet.

Windhoek. You still can’t seem to say it correctly, but you’re there.

You’re surprised that when you go through immigration, people who you thought were foreigners are going through the citizens line. You’ve always known that as much people try to lump Africa together, it is full of distinct countries, cultures, and histories. But still, the widely accepted notions about the sameness of the African continent have made their way into your mind. That’s about to unravel. You’re not prepared for it.

When you’re done with the arrival formalities, you and your sister have a joyful reunion with your mother. You step out into the heat and she leads you to a large truck that will be your mobile fortress for the next two and a half weeks of your do-it-yourself tour of Namibia. This just might be the adventure that all your adventures thus far have led up to. It’s funny, exciting, a little daunting.

You load up the vehicle and then you’re off — three women in a 4×4 truck exploring the great wide open spaces of Namibia.

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Songs for the Road No. 14: Discovering Afro-Brazil Through Banda Didá, An All Female Drumming Ensemble

by Ekua on November 8, 2011 · 6 comments in Brazil,female travel,inspiring adventurous people,movies with movement,race/culture/identity,songs for the road,why i travel

When I look back at the time I spent volunteering in Salvador da Bahia, Brazil in 2006, it seems so natural, so inevitable that I would end up in there at some point in my life. I often forget about what drew me to it in the first place: Banda Didá, an all female drumming ensemble that is based there. Before learning about that group, I hadn’t even heard of Salvador, an Afro-Brazilian city in the northeastern part of the country.

Music as it pertains to social movements or social justice has always been a topic of interest for me. When I came across a documentary called Girl Beat: Power of the Drum, I was automatically drawn by the synopsis. It highlighted the Banda Didá organization and the work it did to empower females of African descent in Salvador.

Banda Didá was powerful. I couldn’t believe this group of women whose hands and arms pounded out the rage of the remnants of European enslavement to the beats of West Africa. At the same time, their bodies moved fluidly and rhythmically and their faces beamed with pride in their heritage.

The documentary revealed another world, one that I had not yet been privy to, but in which I felt I likely belonged: Afro-Latin culture. In mainstream grade school education in the United States, the fact that Africans were enslaved in many other parts of the Americas is often ignored. The vivacious modern cultures of Latin America and the African influence on many of them is often overlooked. At that point in my life, I was vaguely aware of Afro-Latin America, but that was the first time I’d seen it so tangibly.

As the daughter of immigrants from a small West African country, I’d grown up on the periphery of belonging. I’d accepted that position at that point. But Salvador da Bahia seemed like a place where the distinct mix of cultures that went into my creation was very much the norm in a very visible way. And sure enough, it was.

There’s a bit of drumming at the beginning of this, but skip to 1:00 for the good stuff. Those drums are heavy, and these women make dancing with one attached to your hips look easy.

I saw Banda Didá for the first time in person just a few days after I arrived in Brazil. Every Tuesday night from August until Carnival, they have a big party in Pelourinho, Salvador’s historic center. They call it a “rehearsal” for Carnival and it’s an insanely fun night of government sanctioned partying. There are concerts, street food and drinks, and baterias (drumming ensembles) marching down the cobblestone streets.