abdulhakeem
09-12-04, 02:14 PM
Wednesday December 8, 2004
Boniface Ongeri
It was when she first spotted female bodyguards flanking Libyan President Muammar Gaddafi, that Sophia Ibrahim Hassan got excited.The 20-year-old admired the women policemen she saw on television, their hawk eyes scouring the crowds. Why, she wondered, couldn’t she do something similar here in Kenya?
But her choice of career presented more than a few problems. Sophia was brought up a Muslim in North Eastern province, and her community usually ruled out such activities for its young women.
But when regular police recruitment officers recently visited Wajir District, she decided to take her courage in both hands, tucking her documents and certificate under her hijab.
"To be sincere, I was anxious when I presented myself for the exercise to try my luck," says Sophia, the province’s first successful woman police recruit.
Her mother and siblings were among a sea of humanity that had already flocked to the police grounds by the time she arrived there at 8 a.m. to apply for the job.
Idlers, leaders, aspiring police officers and curious herdsmen with walking sticks were all there basking in the early morning sun.
"Even the persons I dreaded to meet in such a particular place were there: the Imams and the religious teachers," she explains. The Imams are the most revered persons in this predominantly Muslim district.
Only the presence of her fellow female colleagues and the unwavering backing from her mother kept her going.
The officer in charge of the recruitment exercise, senior superintendent Joseph Too, started by asking the job seekers to form queues according to their academic achievements.
Praying that the Imams would not to raise a finger, she joined the queue, lining up behind more than 100 bare-chested males fighting it out for only 16 allocated slots.
"After all, Libya is a predominantly Muslim country and they allowed their girls to aspire for a man’s job", she told herself.
When an Imam shouted for the officer in charge, she quailed. "I saw my dreams and those of others being shattered". But the Imam only wanted to see a separate queue established for women candidates.
Slotted chances for the province had gone begging in the past, due to the limitations religion placed on local girls.
Now, for the first time in the history of North Eastern province, the community had decided to allow their girls to apply. This time, they clapped and cheered their girls on.
In what would previously have been an unimaginable scene, hundreds of young women clad in flowing bui buis vied for three chances allocated to each of the province’s four districts of Mandera, Wajir, Ijara and Garissa.
The recruitment exercise was overseen by the dreaded General Service Unit (GSU) personnel. In the past, senior police officers were given the responsibility of overseeing the exercise and there have been claims that previous exercises were no more than formalities, as the bosses had connived with politicians to allocate jobs to relatives.
But Sophia was not discouraged by the bribery stories or the physical demands she knew the job would hold.
She was ready to face training in Kiganjo and she had been assured that some places would be held back for girls.
The office in charge noted the candidates’ height. At 5ft 8, slender Sophia made the grade. The candidates were then asked to race on sandy terrain.
Sophia came last, gasping for breath, and sneaked back to the police hall in embarrassment. But she soon realised that the run was only meant to warm up the candidates for their medical checkups, in which their blood pressure was measured.
The next step was a literacy test, to establish the girls’ understanding of English. This is where she excelled. Many parents in North Eastern province believed their girls would become prostitutes if they joined male-dominated professions.
But Sophia, who attended a local secondary school, is studying for a certificate in information technology from Achievers Protech College, the only licensed computer school in the area, and set to graduate in early December.
"I will carry the knowledge gained to the force when I report to Kiganjo police training college," she says with quiet pride.
Sophia is grateful to a community which is changing with the times. "I think the community now understands that we are not meant to be wives and mothers only. Girls need equal opportunity to pursue any career relegated for only male as long as we uphold our moral standards and religious teachings."
She appeals to the government to increase the number of chances for aspiring women. In previous exercises, the province was only allocated a few posts, on the assumption that even those would not be filled.
For Sophia, only one issue remains unresolved. "It was disheartening to see my age-mates not giving it a try for lack of an identity card. Our leaders are doing little to press for the issuance of the document," she laments.
At the end of the 14-hour exercise, Superintendent Too confessed to having been taken aback by the huge turnout.
"I was told that only males would avail themselves of
the exercise. To be sincere, I was not expecting to handle the huge crowd flowing with Muslim regalia."
Wajir police boss John Katumo has already drawn up plans for the girls. A special desk for women complaints has been launched in the district. Before she recruits to shielding the president, Sophia can start there.
To her colleagues, many of whom are now sitting idle at home, Sophia has one message: "Even if it is to be the president’s bodyguards, Inshallah (God willing), we can succeed," she says.
She echoes the dictum her Wajir girls secondary school instilled in her: "what a boy child can do, a girl child can do even better".
http://www.eastandard.net/hm_news/news.php?articleid=7840
Boniface Ongeri
It was when she first spotted female bodyguards flanking Libyan President Muammar Gaddafi, that Sophia Ibrahim Hassan got excited.The 20-year-old admired the women policemen she saw on television, their hawk eyes scouring the crowds. Why, she wondered, couldn’t she do something similar here in Kenya?
But her choice of career presented more than a few problems. Sophia was brought up a Muslim in North Eastern province, and her community usually ruled out such activities for its young women.
But when regular police recruitment officers recently visited Wajir District, she decided to take her courage in both hands, tucking her documents and certificate under her hijab.
"To be sincere, I was anxious when I presented myself for the exercise to try my luck," says Sophia, the province’s first successful woman police recruit.
Her mother and siblings were among a sea of humanity that had already flocked to the police grounds by the time she arrived there at 8 a.m. to apply for the job.
Idlers, leaders, aspiring police officers and curious herdsmen with walking sticks were all there basking in the early morning sun.
"Even the persons I dreaded to meet in such a particular place were there: the Imams and the religious teachers," she explains. The Imams are the most revered persons in this predominantly Muslim district.
Only the presence of her fellow female colleagues and the unwavering backing from her mother kept her going.
The officer in charge of the recruitment exercise, senior superintendent Joseph Too, started by asking the job seekers to form queues according to their academic achievements.
Praying that the Imams would not to raise a finger, she joined the queue, lining up behind more than 100 bare-chested males fighting it out for only 16 allocated slots.
"After all, Libya is a predominantly Muslim country and they allowed their girls to aspire for a man’s job", she told herself.
When an Imam shouted for the officer in charge, she quailed. "I saw my dreams and those of others being shattered". But the Imam only wanted to see a separate queue established for women candidates.
Slotted chances for the province had gone begging in the past, due to the limitations religion placed on local girls.
Now, for the first time in the history of North Eastern province, the community had decided to allow their girls to apply. This time, they clapped and cheered their girls on.
In what would previously have been an unimaginable scene, hundreds of young women clad in flowing bui buis vied for three chances allocated to each of the province’s four districts of Mandera, Wajir, Ijara and Garissa.
The recruitment exercise was overseen by the dreaded General Service Unit (GSU) personnel. In the past, senior police officers were given the responsibility of overseeing the exercise and there have been claims that previous exercises were no more than formalities, as the bosses had connived with politicians to allocate jobs to relatives.
But Sophia was not discouraged by the bribery stories or the physical demands she knew the job would hold.
She was ready to face training in Kiganjo and she had been assured that some places would be held back for girls.
The office in charge noted the candidates’ height. At 5ft 8, slender Sophia made the grade. The candidates were then asked to race on sandy terrain.
Sophia came last, gasping for breath, and sneaked back to the police hall in embarrassment. But she soon realised that the run was only meant to warm up the candidates for their medical checkups, in which their blood pressure was measured.
The next step was a literacy test, to establish the girls’ understanding of English. This is where she excelled. Many parents in North Eastern province believed their girls would become prostitutes if they joined male-dominated professions.
But Sophia, who attended a local secondary school, is studying for a certificate in information technology from Achievers Protech College, the only licensed computer school in the area, and set to graduate in early December.
"I will carry the knowledge gained to the force when I report to Kiganjo police training college," she says with quiet pride.
Sophia is grateful to a community which is changing with the times. "I think the community now understands that we are not meant to be wives and mothers only. Girls need equal opportunity to pursue any career relegated for only male as long as we uphold our moral standards and religious teachings."
She appeals to the government to increase the number of chances for aspiring women. In previous exercises, the province was only allocated a few posts, on the assumption that even those would not be filled.
For Sophia, only one issue remains unresolved. "It was disheartening to see my age-mates not giving it a try for lack of an identity card. Our leaders are doing little to press for the issuance of the document," she laments.
At the end of the 14-hour exercise, Superintendent Too confessed to having been taken aback by the huge turnout.
"I was told that only males would avail themselves of
the exercise. To be sincere, I was not expecting to handle the huge crowd flowing with Muslim regalia."
Wajir police boss John Katumo has already drawn up plans for the girls. A special desk for women complaints has been launched in the district. Before she recruits to shielding the president, Sophia can start there.
To her colleagues, many of whom are now sitting idle at home, Sophia has one message: "Even if it is to be the president’s bodyguards, Inshallah (God willing), we can succeed," she says.
She echoes the dictum her Wajir girls secondary school instilled in her: "what a boy child can do, a girl child can do even better".
http://www.eastandard.net/hm_news/news.php?articleid=7840