Thursday, July 3, 2014
London Members of Parliament home affairs committee takes a stand against FGM and girl's at risk protection,early detection! Yes! Compiled reports by Standard London,Jacqueline Dale Shaw-Mashua Against FGM,Hilary Burrage-No FGMBook,and Amb Lucy Mashua
#CATCHTHISFGMITSUCKSTOBEYOU!-- Doctors, teachers and other public workers were today told that 'cultural sensitivities' must no longer obstruct the fight against female genital mutilation as MPs called for a national campaign to stamp out the practice. The Home Affairs Select Committee said that 'misplaced concerns' about challenging traditional practices within some ethnic communities were 'one of the main reason' why girls living in Britain were still suffering mutilation. The warnings came in a report on the scale of FGM, which calls for a national action plan and the regular medical examination of girls at 'high risk'. Changes in the law would include the introduction of 'FGM protection orders' and a legal duty for doctors to report mutilation. "FGM is not cultural, it is criminal; it is not tribal, it is torture; it is not an initiation but inhumane. Those who conduct this abuse, or silently standy by whilst it occurs, should and will be relentlessly pursued with the full force of the law"
Monday, June 23, 2014
As long as there is a law that bans FGM in Kenya the director of public prosecution in Kenya (DPP) Sir Keriakor Tobiko will not give in to the demands of some Kenyan members of parliament, government officials(chiefs) and Maasai women community leaders who are Pro-FGM excusing this atrocity as culture!By Ambassador Lucy Mashua Sharp
Friday, May 23, 2014
Trial for the murder of the 13 years old Sohair al-Bata in Egypt is on, but the charges are ridiculous they are blaming allergic reaction and the dead girl excessive genital skin!! This is insulting and a big blow to FGM survivors and true FGM activists!and all those that have died from FGM. Lucy Mashua Sharp
Monday, May 12, 2014
Campaigners called for immigrants to be required to sign a declaration promising not to subject their daughters to genital mutilation before being allowed into Britain. Leading figures in the fight against FGM called for a special pledge to be brought in to ensure everybody is clear that the practice is against the law. London MEP Marina Yannakoudakis said she will raise the issue with the government and called for more research to identify other countries that have introduced declarations. The idea of an FGM declaration was raised at a meeting of prominent London campaigners, organised by Ms Yannakoudakis to give their views on various anti-FGM initiatives. She said: “As people choose to move to Britain or elsewhere in Europe, it seems relevant to remind them of the social standards that apply here. “That should include an acceptance that certain practices are not only unacceptable but illegal. This proposal will form part of a package of recommendations which I plan to send to the UK Government and EU Commission.” GREAT IDEA ,ACTUALLY AWESOME.I SUPPORT IT 100% Ambassador Lucy S. Mashua, President of Mashua Voice for the Voiceless, International Assisting and advocating for U.S. refugees and women’s rights Global Ambassador for Ending Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) Support in lobbying for HR 2221: The Girl's Protection Act sponsored by Rep. Joseph Crowley and Rep. Mary Bono Mack. http://twitter.com/Mashua http://mashuavoiceforthevoiceless.blogspot.com/ http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mashua-Against-FGM/225406701415
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
FGM BLOOD ON THE FLOOR AND RAPE IN BED, THE PRICE OF FGM AND CHILD BRIDE.At 13 ,mutilated,married,pregnant and lost the baby due to Fistula caused by FGM and 5 reconstructive surgeries By Ambassador Lucy Mashua Sharp ,courtesy of Daily nation Kenya.
YES THIS CHILD BY THE TIME SHE WAS 13 YEARS OLD,SHE HAD BEEN MUTILATED, BECAME PREGNANT,LOST THE BABY DUE TO FISTULA(STILL BIRTH,DIVORCED.SHE SAYS SHE COULD NOT HOLD OR CONTROL URINE OR BOWEL MOVEMENT AND HAD NO IDEA THAT IT WAS FGM COMPLICATION, THE HUSBAND FORCED HER TO BE MUTILATED. FEMALE GENITAL MUTILATION have been labelled “culture” and “tradition” by its proponents, dressed up to look and sound nice — sort of like painting the walls of a prison — but deep within it remains, at least to me, the lowest that a people can stoop. Hello dear reader. My name is Irene Chelegat. I am aged 20 and the story I want to tell you is based on my personal experiences, first, as a woman and, second, as a wife. It is a story that I hope will change the lives of my peers for the better, a story that I have been yearning to tell for a long time. I come from Kapenguria, a timid dusty town 430 kilometres to the north-west of Nairobi. I call the town timid because, over the years, I have watched it cow into submission as the scorching sun battles for supremacy with dry winds that lick life out of anything that stands in their way. And the hills that surround my little town have for centuries stood and watched in disturbing muteness, like witnesses to a crime, as the place loses the battle with the elements. Beneath that timidity, however, lies something more sinister and heart-wrenching. And I am the very personification of the effects of that sinister monster. It has been labelled “culture” and “tradition” by its proponents, dressed up to look and sound nice — sort of like painting the walls of a prison — but deep within it remains, at least to me, the lowest that a people can stoop. My reasons for that evaluation are four: One, I was 13 when I got married; two, I was 13 when I was mutilated; three, I was 13 when I lost my baby through obstructed labour; and, four, I was 13 when I was divorced. Yes, by the time the average Kenyan girl of my age was preparing for her Kenya Certificate of Primary Education examination, I had been married and divorced, and left with scars that I have struggled with ever since. It is easy, then, to see why I may sound a little bitter about the timidity of Kapenguria. It all began in 2007, when I was a Standard Four pupil at Chepararia Primary School. I had just entered teenage and was beginning to notice changes in my body when a 24-year-old man asked me to be his girlfriend. He had pursued me for a while, but since I was in school most of the time, we could only meet during the holidays, when he would visit and bring me gifts. After a short while, I was hooked. When we eventually got intimate, I thought it was part of the normal friendship between boys and girls. After all, other girls reported having similar experiences during the holidays. After some time, however, I noticed I was growing round and plump, but I did not think much of it. It was only after I heard my boyfriend telling his friends that I was pregnant that I realised what was happening. Then aged 13, I had no idea what being pregnant was, but at least I now understood why my skin was dry, why I felt sleepy in the afternoons and had bouts of nausea. Most importantly, I understood that I was not sick, but that a baby was growing inside me. Consequently, I dropped out of school and moved in with my boyfriend. He did not have a steady job but managed to provide for us. I did not go for any antenatal visits, but towards the eighth month, he took me to a clinic in a place called Seger. The doctor insisted that I visit the clinic daily for check-ups, but I never went back. My boyfriend, now pressured by the turn of events, said he would marry me, but on condition that I agreed to be mutilated. You see, my community considers un-mutilated girls children, and therefore does allow children to give birth to children. So, to be a woman and a mother, I had to undergo FGM. I had been told about the pain involved, but my boyfriend insisted it was the only ticket to marriage. Since I did not want to shame my husband-to-be or my family, I agreed to undergo the procedure. Turns out the man had done his homework well and knew not only who would mutilate me, but how much we would have to pay for the procedure as well. Mutilation is a two-day affair here. The first day is marked by traditional dances and rituals. In the early morning cold, we sang traditional folk songs as red ochre was applied on our faces. There were older women around to take us through the steps of becoming a woman. Then the 81 of us made a timid file into a hut. From the mood and the terse talks, you could tell that it was a solemn occasion. Most of my fellow initiates were between 18 and 19 years. I was among the youngest, but that did not matter since we would all walk out as women. Two of the initiates were as heavily pregnant as I was. I had the privilege, or so I thought, of being the first under the knife. The circumciser, an old woman, had a razor in one hand and a spear in the other. The spear, we had been warned, was to stab anyone who showed any fear during the procedure. She charged Sh500 for the honour. She came up to me, her eyes glistening with excitement, pulled my face close to hers and asked if I had willingly chosen this path. Of course I had not, I wanted to tell her, but there was no backing out now. My marriage, honour and respect were at stake, and so I nodded my response. I knew what was expected of me at this point, so I immediately lay on my back and arched my legs. She smeared some warm ash on me and the next minute... I felt as if ants were clawing and sawing and pinching their way up my back. Chop. Chop. Slice. Each mutilation accompanied by such searing pain that I can’t put it into words. Rivulets of blood dripped down my thighs to the ground, but at least I was inching closer to being a woman. This was worth every drop of blood, right? When she was done, she bound my legs at the ankles and thighs with a sisal rope. As I continued bleeding, some women lifted me and placed me on the dewy grass outside the hut. I was numb from the pain, but that was just day one. The next day she would work on what was left of my “childish” parts. I could not move or walk or go to the toilet as the pain wracked my body. The second mutilation was even worse. The pain felt like a thousand daggers on my flesh. She cut everything out and stitched it all up again. I looked and felt like — how do I put this — a knee. All flat. No bumps. Nothing there. It was all gone. Unlike others, my wound took time to heal and when it did three weeks later, there was barely any opening, making urinating extremely painful for me. Then, as fate would have it, I went into labour shortly after the wound healed. The labour brought with it a fresh bout of pain that was beyond what I had imagined. My waters just broke unexpectedly, and for hours I did not go to the hospital. Eventually, my husband took me back to the clinic in Seger, where they said there was no passage for the baby, so I had to undergo an emergency operation. I was transferred to Ortum Mission hospital, north of Kitale, where they could save my life and, hopefully, that of my child. I was tired and weak, and each contraction took a little life out of me. By the time doctors performed a Caesarian Section on me, the baby had already died, possibly from the exhaustion. To make matters worse, when I came to, I realised I could not contain my urine or stool. I panicked and asked the doctor what was happening: “You are torn,” he replied, meaning I had developed a condition known as fistula. I was in hospital for six months. My husband one day came to visit me with a flask of tea. He offered me a cup and when I drank it, I wet my bed almost immediately. Ignorant of what fistula is, he said I was cursed and broke the news that he was leaving me for greener pastures. He accused me of being unfaithful and called some old men who told me that I would recover if I named the men I had cheated on my husband with. HUSBAND REMARRIED And so, while I was still aged 13, my husband remarried. He now has two wives, both of them my age mates. And, most importantly, mutilated. I was alone and destitute when my maternal aunt, who had been taking care of me since my mum died in 2004, came for me — here is where I get to tell you that I do not know my biological father. At home, I could not leave the house because of the stench I was releasing. I was scared of eating or drinking anything. For six years I endured shame, and my self-esteem hit rock bottom. Then one day I went back to Ortum Hospital for assistance and was referred to Moi Referral and Teaching Hospital in Eldoret. It was here that I met officers of the Sentinelles, a programme in West Pokot that intervenes in matters of FGM and early marriages, and which later introduced me to the African Medical and Research Foundation (Amref). During my stay at Moi Referral I discovered that my case was not unique. I saw hundreds of women with fistula. In fact, some cases were worse than mine. I was not cursed, after all! I underwent five reconstructive surgeries to repair the damage. It is now six months since my last operation in October last year and I am healed. My life is repaired, literally. But many other girls follow in my footsteps. My people should know that by subjecting their daughters and sisters to mutilation, they are not making them full women, but instead churning out broken women who believe they are cursed and useless. Female Genital Mutilation gives women a life of pain, misery and fistula, and I hope the government, through the Anti-FGM board led by Linah Jebii Kilimo, will go to the heart of timid Kapenguria and stop mutilation. Ambassador Lucy S. Mashua, President of Mashua Voice for the Voiceless, International Assisting and advocating for U.S. refugees and women’s rights Global Ambassador for Ending Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) Support in lobbying for HR 2221: The Girl's Protection Act sponsored by Rep. Joseph Crowley and Rep. Mary Bono Mack. http://twitter.com/Mashua http://mashuavoiceforthevoiceless.blogspot.com/ http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mashua-Against-FGM/225406701415
Sunday, December 1, 2013
One of the many saddest flashback From one FGM Survivor as she narrates to a blogger.. "How My Mother mutilated Me Then Married Me Off To a 60 Year Old" !
HERE IS THE STORY FROM ONE BRAVE SURVIVOR OF FGM AND CHILD MARRIAGE.(GRAB YOUR TISSUES). As you read this remember the FGM season is on in East Africa and come January many girls will be married off and kiss their childhood,and education goodbye:(. My name is Peris Lomurut. I am 20 Years old. I am from the tiny Rendille community. And I am a mother. To 4 children. I was born in January 16th 1993 in a tiny village, to the extreme north of Kenya. I attended Karare Primary School. But just briefly. Because in 2003,when I was in class 3,I was forcefully woken up by my mother and a team of some other three old,haggard women. It was 3am in the morning. Confused,they grabbed me. Shook me to consciousness and under the thick cover of darkness,whisked me off to some secluded location. I was confused. And unaware of what was going on. I tried to scream,but Mum held my mouth hard. And asked me to cooperate. I tried to free myself and run to safety,but I was too tiny. They easily overpowered me. After what seemed like an eternal journey,full of anguish and turmoil,I was pushed into a poorly-lit scraggly hut. And then I was dumped infront of a deathly-looking old woman. She grinned like a witch. And her eyes were cold. And hands were rough. Flipping me around,she ordered that the other women hold me down. And strip me NAKED. I was too young to comprehend the magnitude of this madness. And right there,other old women held me down,MY MOTHER INCLUDED. They stripped me naked. And ordered that I spread my legs. I refused. And started screaming and wailing. It was ALL in vain. A dirty piece of cloth was stuffed into my mouth. And I was firmly held down. And my legs forcefully pulled apart. I heard a blunt thing attempt to cut through my genitals. I heard it again. And by the third time,I think I passed out. I came to my senses HOURS later. It was daytime already. And Mum had hidden me at the back of our crumbling hut. I had been initiated to Womanhood. My genitals had been mutilated. And sown up. With a thorn. Yes,a sharp hard thorn. I had bled profusely. And now Mum and other wicked women were busy forcing me to swallow bitter concoctions of local herbs to alleviate my burning pain. It was Hell. My genitals were sewed up. Like a piece of torn cloth. I couldnt even pass urine. And anytime I attempted to do that, the pain would send me to the ground,writhing and cursing. After what seemed like forever,the wound healed. I was now the latest victim of Female Genital Mutilation. Following Year,in November 2004,My parents planned a forced marriage for me! Dad was there. Mum was there. My elder sisters were part of it. And one evening,an old man,well over 60 Years was introduced to me as my new groom. I almost collapsed. In shock. I excused myself. And pretended to have gone for a call of nature. But once I was outside,I fled. I ran away. And ended up at the Chief's camp. I met the chief. And,tearfully,narrated my ordeal to him. I was WRONG. Dead wrong. What happened is that,the chief pretended to pity me. And after I finished my story,he locked me up in a dark room. And told me he was hiding me. What a traitor! 30 minutes later,my parents and our whole clan showed up at the Chiefs camp. Plus the 60-Year old man. It later turned out that the Chief had sold me away. And alerted our people. Needless to say,a dozen sheep and goats were exchanged. As my bride price. And at the tender age of 11 Years,I became a wife. Sex began IMMEDIATELY. From the first night! And Ladies and Gentlemen,allow me to say that it was the MOST PAINFUL sexual experience ever! Remember my genitals had been mutilated earlier. And tied up with bush strings and tiny thorns. In the MOST gory,inhuman and unprofessional manner. It wasnt just PAIN. It was HELL. I went numb. And almost passed out. I tried to protest and reason with this behemoth of a man. But my husband couldnt hear NONE of it. He subjected me to NOTHING but pure torture. For his OWN pleasure. For many,many cold nights. And from late 2004 to 2009,I was in a cold,disastrous,painful,loveless and forced marriage. And I was his FOURTH WIFE. To him,I wasnt a human being. Or an equal married partner. I was a sex toy. A baby-making machine. And sure enough,I DID MAKE Babies. Endlessly. I painfully gave birth to a string of 5 babies. Two of whom died. Due to ill health. And malnutrition. In 2009,I fled my marital home. And with the help of the St Augustine Catholic Church,I was whisked to Nairobi for safety. And mental rehabilitation. And for 4 Years now,I havent seen or heard from my parents. Or children. As I speak now,thousands of Rendille girls,Borana Girls and Samburu Girls and going through what I went through. As we speak now,some girl's tiny genitals are getting mutilated. If we dont ACT NOW. We will NEVER save the situation. There is a difference between CULTURE. And MADNESS. What I went through wasn't CULTURAL. That was DEMONIC. Pray for our sisters. Ambassador Lucy S. Mashua, President of Mashua Voice for the Voiceless, International Assisting and advocating for U.S. refugees and women’s rights Global Ambassador for Ending Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) Leading in lobbying for HR 2221: The Girl's Protection Act sponsored by Rep. Joseph Crowley and Rep. Mary Bono Mack. http://twitter.com/Mashua http://mashuavoiceforthevoiceless.blogspot.com/ http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mashua-Against-FGM/225406701415