Matida Daffeh

Matida Daffeh, anti-FGM and feminist activist from Republic of The Gambia, West Africa, is the co-founder of The Girls Agenda, a grassroots feminist movement working to end FGM and other traditional practices that violates the rights of women and girls. Daffeh has over ten years of experience working in both nongovernmental and community based organizations (at national and subregional levels) in the field of women’s empowerment, including promoting the leadership and political participation of women, issues related to gender based-violence among others.

Matida’s Story

I came from The Gambia, a West African country of about two million people. I am a permanent resident in Canada now and have my eight-year-old son who joined me in 2018. Many beautiful people and organizations have stood by me and have helped me to integrate in Canada. I am a feminist and social justice activist, and an anti-female genital mutilation advocate who is passionate about equality between women and men.1 I have worked with non-governmental and community-based organizations at both local and sub-regional levels, for the past twelve years of my life. My work is centred on women’s human rights issues, including advocating for women’s land rights, political representation and inclusion in community development initiatives, and the elimination of harmful traditional practices such as female genital mutilation and child marriages.

The last organization I worked with in Africa before coming to Canada is United Purpose (UP), formerly called Concern Universal (CU). Concern Universal benefited from a four-year project funded by the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), which sought to promote sustainable development using a people-to-people approach. My main function in this project was to ensure gender mainstreaming, which included ensuring the full participation of women and youth at all levels of the project—from design and implementation to monitoring and evaluation. I also assessed capacity gaps and built the capacity of community-based organizations to help them understand the nature and consequences of gender-based violence. My work also centred on gender mainstreaming, gender sensitive budgeting, and proposal development. In addition, I encouraged organizations to develop gender policies to avoid discriminatory practices. During this period, I lived in the conflict zone of Casamance in southern Senegal, but I would return often to The Gambia where we had some project partners. In addition to my work at UP, I was the chairperson of The Girls’ Agenda (TGA), a community-based organization that I co-founded with some friends. TGA was born out of the desire to contribute to changing the cultural/traditional practices that negatively impact the lives of women and girls.

On February 3, 2016, an online newspaper, What’s On—Gambia, reported that the party leader of the United Democratic Party, the main opposition party in The Gambia, had stepped down and selected one Matida Daffeh (me) as their flag-bearer for the presidential election that was few months away. The news went viral. While most young people supported the idea of a woman standing for the presidency, some people were against it, especially when that person was someone as young as me. Knowing the kind of political atmosphere in The Gambia, many people, including my friends and family, feared for my life.

I was facilitating a training session at our sub-regional office in Senegal when messages started pouring into my phone. Friends, acquaintances, former colleagues, former school- and classmates, and journalists where all trying to reach out to me. By habit, my phone was either on silence or vibrate mode, which helps me avoid being distracted unnecessarily. During a short break, I checked my phone and saw a few congratulatory messages. Most of the messages where from people trying to verify the news, or from journalists requesting interviews. I was too busy to respond. I switched off the phone again. Maybe I underestimated the seriousness and possible damage this could have on my life. A few minutes later, my project manager came in and told me to answer an official call from our head office in Banjul. I held my breath. This must be something serious, I thought. I had to convince my manager that what they saw on the news was not true. UP was once threatened with closure by the former Gambian president, so they tried as much as possible to protect their image.

I began to feel restless. I went back to the training, but then I spent that entire evening talking with some of my friends and family, most of whom provided me with emotional support, even though they were scared to the core. Many said that the long-time president, Yahya Jammeh, would come after me for sure, so I should run for my life. I responded that I hadn’t committed any crime that should warrant running away. To further justify my point, I would sarcastically ask, “Is it a crime to express interest in politics?” After all, I was not even friends with What’s On—Gambia on Facebook, so what on earth could make me their target? Could it be that they followed my activities without me knowing? Of course, I did promote social justice issues. I also promoted women’s political representation and I shared posts relating to it. Once I shared a post in which I asked if The Gambia was ready to have a female president. In response to their hoax, I wrote on my Facebook wall that the news was false. I also granted interviews to a few local journalists in the country, during which I expressed my disappointment about the publication of such an unfounded story.

Two days later, the head of the opposition party also cleared the air through local newspapers. All of these actions did not satisfy Jammeh and his cronies. He used his secret agents as he always did. They pursued me and threatened my life. I was puzzled as to why I was targeted. Out of the many strong women in The Gambia, why was I singled out? Was it because of the work I did and the radical nature in which I challenged things? I had spoken out against the practice of polygamy in 2015, and my comments were published by a local newspaper. After the publication appeared, some people, including some friends and comrades, called to caution me. Many people expressed their dissatisfaction in me as a daughter of a religious scholar who also practised polygamy. Although many people, especially the younger generation of women, do not support the idea of polygamy, it is often not discussed because of its sensitive nature.

Human rights defenders and feminist activists were prone to arbitrary arrest and torture during Jammeh’s dictatorship in The Gambia. I was not an exception. I started receiving threatening messages from unknown people. I was not affected deeply until someone wrote a letter to TGA, the grassroots organization where I served as chairperson. According to the letter, the police were investigating the presence of a government official at a training program on female genital mutilation and sexual violence against girls organized by TGA. Some TGA members were taken to the police station for questioning. I started fearing for my life, and my mother became even more scared. My mother was in poor health and so I knew I could not possibly run and leave her and my then three-year-old child behind. I had to face the police.

On March 7, 2016, I met with both the National Intelligence Agency and personnel of the serious crime unit of the Gambian Police. Prior to going to the meeting that morning, I woke my child up from bed, kissed and hugged him, and whispered to him that should he never get to see me again, I had committed no crime. I was just a victim of circumstance. This was perhaps the most traumatizing moment for me. I wept holding my child. During the interrogation, I was terrified, but I refused to show any sign of fear, for this might be used to their advantage. They asked if I had any affiliation with any political party, and whether or not I had any interest in becoming president. They wanted to know what type of activities I was engaged in, the organizations I worked with, and my primary responsibilities. They also asked whether or not I was married, and other questions in this vein. Most of the questions where personal and I guess this was a deliberate act to provoke me. Only once did they refer to the person they were supposedly interested in. The rest of the time it was all about me and my political aspirations. After hours of interrogation, they warned me not to leave the country without notice. The investigation had just begun, they said, and it would continue. I told them I had no intention of leaving the country. I had not committed any crime. I continued my work in both The Gambia and Senegal. I restricted my movements and stopped attending late-night events for security reasons. This was my life until August of the same year, when I had the opportunity to attend a Women’s Human Rights Education Institute in Canada at the University of Toronto.

In September 2016, while in Canada, I got news that Dr. Isatou Touray, who was one of my feminist mentors and who had been instrumental in the fight against female genital mutilation and other traditional practices that violate the rights of girls and women in The Gambia, had expressed interest in contesting the coming presidential election. This made my case even more sensitive, so I filed for asylum. I wasn’t sure what my fate would be, whether or not I would be granted asylum. I was worried about many things: I had left The Gambia two days after my child’s fourth birthday and I was missing him badly. I also missed my mother, who was very worried about my safety and general well-being. I missed my work and my community. I had no idea how long it would take to reunite with my family, friends, and community. In a family of over twenty, I am the only one abroad other than a half-sister who lives in Spain with her husband and children.

I wondered if I would ever be welcomed in my new environment, or whether I would have any sense of belonging in my new environment. One thing I had always been told about Canada was that it is a tolerant and multicultural society, so that gave me hope. One organization that was instrumental in my asylum claim process was the Mennonite Coalition for Refugee Support (MCRS). They deal with refugee issues in the Kitchener and Waterloo area of Ontario. They made the application process bearable. They guided me through all the steps of the application process. I could not have imagined how I could have done this without such support. Further, MCRS linked me to Open Homes, a group of people who provide shelter for refugees in their homes. My experience with Open Homes was amazing. I stayed with an awesome couple, Cheryl Belch and David Clayworth, for about eleven months before I moved over to Toronto to start my university program. They gave me support I never expected. I stayed in their basement apartment. They helped me through my integration process in Canada. They made their home a place I could call home.

I was afraid that my lawyer might not understand feminist issues. I began to be anxious even before meeting him. One of my friends connected me with the Barbra Schlifer Clinic. At the clinic, I received great support from the women I met. I shared my story with them, and we went through it together. The staff at Barbra Schlifer helped me get through my anxiety. They explained the court setup to me and advised that I get my evidence right. This was very helpful; at least I got someone to look at my case with a feminist lens. This was a relief. However, I was still worried about whether my male lawyer would understand my story. I needed a lawyer with a feminist perspective, yet I had limited control.

I had my first appointment with my lawyer, James Schmidt, in October 2016 and we were to meet at his office in downtown Kitchener. Although my case worker at MCRS told me many positive things about him, including his long experience of working on immigration issues, I remained skeptical. To my great surprise, James Schmidt made me as comfortable as I could be. He had worked with some Gambians before and had a sound knowledge of the country. I regained my confidence and was open to sharing my story without any feeling of guilt or being judged. We worked closely together and within a duration of three weeks, I was fully prepared for my hearing. I went to the hearing with him and Cheryl and everything went well.

A few months after the hearing, I got a call from my family that my mother was sick but that it was nothing to worry about. Within two days I got news of her demise. I got the news on the fateful morning of May 19, 2017. I struggled hard to convince myself that I was merely dreaming. It could not possibly be true that I had lost my mom while I was away. I thought of all the emotional trauma my mother endured because of me, and I began to tremble. I felt guilty and sad that I could not be there to mourn with the rest of the family. The stress of my persecution and of leaving the country must have been too much for her. After some fifteen minutes of deep thinking, I began to cry uncontrollably. I could not bear this alone. I needed someone to speak to, yet I wasn’t sure if it was culturally okay to share my pain with Cheryl and David. I managed to reach out to Cheryl and to date I am grateful that she provided me with a shoulder to lean on. I later contacted a Gambian friend who took me to stay with them for a couple of weeks. While this was the darkest moment in my life, I felt good to know that people you are not biologically related to could love and care so much.

I am grateful that I am able to pursue my dreams despite all the challenges. I am studying at the University of Toronto, majoring in women and gender studies and minoring in African studies, an area I have always been interested in. However, studying full-time while being a single parent is challenging; there are days that I feel overwhelmed, but am grateful for the support I receive from both the registrar’s office and the Family Care office where I also serve as a student-parent mentor. My child has fully integrated at a school for the deaf and I am working on improving my ASL (American Sign Language).

I am now able to fully concentrate on school and pursue my dreams. I intend to continue my work as a social justice activist. As hard as it is, I am ready to take on this exhausting, risky, yet very fulfilling cause. While I am grateful for all the beautiful things this country has offered to me and my son, I also recognize that it is not a perfect country and that racial inequalities exist. My ultimate dream is to contribute to the dismantling of gender inequality, push back against colonial and patriarchal ideals including sexism, ableism, Islamophobia, and heteronormativity. I believe that a just, better world is possible.

1, In Kenya, the commonly used term is “female genital mutilation.” In other parts of the world, the preferred term is “female genital cutting.” In this chapter, the terms are used interchangeably, depending on whether the context is Kenyan or international.

Daffeh, M. (2021). Fleeing The Gambia. In G. Melnyk & C. Parker (Eds). Finding Refuge in Canada: Narratives of Dislocation. Edmonton: Athabasca University Press.