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Meeting the ‘Big Family’

FOMWAN (Federation Of Muslim Women Associations in Nigeria)

 

Come today between 2pm and 4pm at our secretariat” said the What’s App message I received from the woman I had never met but to whom I was introduced by the contact of a contact of a contact. “you will see, she is a great woman, very active for the Muslim community of Ibadan and beyond, she is head of FOMWAN’s Child Protection Network (CPN) in Oyo State, it is a great woman!” I was told.

Knowing I’d be meeting a muslim “oga madam” (boss lady), as we jokingly say here, I made sure I was dressed appropriately, deliberating for hours whether to wear a hijab, a veil, or none at all.

When I arrived at 2 p.m., the guard at the gate requested me to sign an imposing guest book with my personal information: name, address, phone number, purpose of visit, hour of arrival and host. FOMWAN Oyo State was imprinted in blue on the book, table, and chairs.

The paved front yard where I waited in the guard’s house’s shadow, was empty and hit by the dazzling afternoon sun. I saw nor heard anyone but a few running lizards.

First encounter with the FOMWAN Oyo State, Ink & collage, April 2022, S. Okoekpen

As I was invited to enter the main building, expecting to meet one lady, I was surprised to face 8 women siting at 4 tables in a baren imposing yellow hall. A lone white plastic chair with the blue imprints stood in front of them.

I knelt before them.

My host rose to her feet and introduced herself and the others by their formal titles: Alhaja Dr. Armirah of Oyo State FOMWAN, South-West Zonal coordinator, former Secretary of…, Head of Education Committee and so on.

The formality of the meeting and the weight of the hierarchical titles left me completely befuddled. I felt so small, so insignificant, sitting in front of these distinguished women, whose titles I was given in endless enumerations. And as they described the organization’s work from its headquarters in Abuja to its smallest branches and the scope of their soco-religious projects and actions, I felt awed and amazed even though I already knew all the details. I wondered whether they were conscious of the impression of power they gave me, but what is certain is that the whole setup triggered an overwhelming sense of greatness of the organization and its members.

Welcome to FOMWAN, Ink & collage, April 2022, S. Okoekpen

Founded in October 1985 by a group of educated Muslim women, FOMWAN’s main mission is the dissemination of Islam and the education and empowerment of Muslim women in Nigeria. The organization is present in all 36 states of the Federal Republic of Nigeria and operates under the following structure: a national executive council based in Abuja, a division of the Federal territory into 6 Zones, including each States (State Chapters), subdivided into Local Government Chapters. The latter consist of all the affiliated associations, represented by one or more women. It is FOMWAN’s grassroots level. 

So now, what is it you are researching on?

Asked the Oyo State Amirah after outlining the entire organisation’s structure and answering all my questions.

Well, I am not quite sure. I am interested in Muslim women’s involvement in organizations such as yours, though in less urban context.

Like rural areas?

Exactly, but what is defined as rural in Nigeria?

This is the question now; you will see for your own. Let us introduce you to some of our active sisters from rural towns in Oyo State.

You know, we are all sisters in FOMWAN, we are one a big family”

Completed my host.

 

Central Mosque, Tede, Ink, April 2022, S. Okoekpen

 

Two weeks later, at 7 a.m. on the eve of Ramadan, I’m sitting in a shaky bus direction Shaki, in the north-west of Oyo State. I will have to disembark at Ago-Are Junction and complete my journey with an okada (bicycle). Tede, the place I’ll be visiting, has been described to me as a “rural town”.

Security being a constant issue when traveling in Nigeria, a friend accompanies me on this journey. The bike drops us in front of the imposing dark red and light green central mosque, the town looks almost empty on this hot Friday morning. We put our hijab on and wait in the mosque’s shade for our host, the local FOMWAN Amirah.

She arrives on a bike. We kneel before her as she welcomes us with a warm hug she and a cheerful smile putting us back on our feet. She seats us on a bench next to a small shop where a few children play and two elderly women relax. Bringing us delicious amala and gbegiri she asks us to wait for her till the end of the Friday Jummah prayer. By noon, families, groups of friends and elders, all colourfully dressed, walk by us to join the prayer. As the warmth overwhelms us, the melodious recitation of the Qur’an and the preaching arising from the mosque lull us into a drowsy contemplative state.   

A group of elder women join us later with our host and lead us deeper in the town to a smaller mosque. We take a crumbling path seemingly dug by the rains between the houses, it seems there is no tarred or paved streets once we leave the 2 main roads that run through the town. In the background between the houses, I can see the few green hills surrounding Tede.

Tede Town, Ink, April 2022, S. Okoekpen

Some women already sat, waiting for our group in the small mosque. They presented themselves as the FOMWAN members and part of various organisations as NASFAT, Ansar ud Deen and Ahmadiyya Muslim Jamaat to name but a few. Most of the women only spoke Yoruba, which the Amirah interpreted for me. They met every Friday after the jumaah prayer, hosted each time by a different association. After I explained my research and the purpose of my visit, they kept on with their own assalatu program reciting parts of the Qur’an and prayers in Arabic, by heart or read from a small green FOMWAN Oyo State prayer book.

Throughout the meeting, an older lady (part of the founding members) sat to my right looking at me with a frown. Following a great silence, she asked in a croaking voice:

“Are you a Muslim?”

I suddenly feel tensed and afraid of what my answer might entail.

“No, I am not a Muslim.” Silence. “But I am deeply inspired by the lives of women in every religion, especially in Islam, as such, my research is driven only by curiosity and genuine interest in the experiences of others women.”

Smiles slowly appeared on the faces in front of me as the Amirah translated my answer. The old lady replied :

“You are welcome my child. When you are here, we are your mothers”

Agreeing other women added:

“You can always come to my house”, “welcome”, “You are at home here”

And finally, one concluded :

“Inch ‘Allah, by the end of your research you will be part of us” [meaning I would convert to Islam]

To which they all simultaneously answered :

“Inch ‘Allah!”

‘Ansar Dine, comment déjà?’

En 2021, quand j’ai dit par téléphone à un collègue basé à l’Université Julius Nyerere de Kankan que je comptais ouvrir un nouveau terrain de recherche sur l’association Ansar Dine dans la Région de Kankan, zone mandinguophone de la République de Guinée, ce dernier a répondu avec étonnement : ‘Ansar Dine, comment déjà ?’. Je n’ai pas tout de suite saisi la signification de sa réaction.

Un ami prêcheur de la Section Ansar Dine de Odienné (Côte d’Ivoire) m’a donné le numéro de téléphone du Président de la Section Ansar Dine de Kankan. Il l’avait lui-même obtenu à travers un jeune membre de l’association basé à Minignan, une localité ivoirienne proche de la frontière guinéenne. Cet ami m’avait juste prévenu que : ‘Ansarw, olu ma ca Guinée la’ (Il n’y a pas beaucoup d’Ansars [membres de la dite association] en Guinée’.

Le 18 février 2022, j’ai téléphoné au Président de la Section Ansar Dine de Kankan. Il m’a invité au siège d’Ansar Dine de cette grande ville de la Haute Guinée. Un membre de l’association est venu me chercher en début de soirée. Après 15 minutes de moto, nous sommes arrivés devant une concession familiale loin du goudron à la périphérie de la ville. A ma grande surprise, aucun panneau indiquait la présence d’un siège d’une association religieuse. Pourtant, lors de mes précédents terrains au sud du Mali et au nord de la Côte d’Ivoire, Ansar Dine s’affichait beaucoup en public. Ses sièges étaient notifiés par des grands panneaux d’affichage en bordure de route.

Cette photo de rue sans signalisation religieuse prise en février 2022 à Conakry illustre le contexte de discrétion, voire de “marginalité” dans lequel je rencontre Ansar dine en Guinée. Ansar Dine est présente en Guinée, mais ne s’affiche que peu en public.

Pour de nombreux guinéens, Ansar Dine renvoie à ‘l’organisation terroriste’ qui a sévit au Mali de 2012 à 2017, d’où l’étonnement de mon collègue ci-dessus. La Section Ansar Dine de Kankan n’ose pas indiquer son siège par une pancarte surtout par crainte de confusion. Mais quand est-il de ‘l’autre Ansar Dine’ (Peterson 2012), celle de mon terrain ? Cet Ansar dine populaire, association musulmane crée dans les années 1980s par Chérif Ousmane Madani Haïdara, est devenu en moins de 30 ans une organisation musulmane de masse fortement ancrée dans les zones mandinguophones et présente dans tous les pays de la sous-région et dans certains pays occidentaux à travers la diaspora ouest-africaine. En Haute Guinée, sa marginalité m’interpelle. La suite du terrain m’en dira davantage…

  • Peterson, B. 2012.“Mali ‘Islamisation’ Tackled: The Other Ansar Dine, Popular Islam, and Religious Tolerance.” African Arguments (blog). 2012.