Stories

Seventeen-year-old student Jumeya Mohammed Amin started educating other people about sexual and reproductive health when she was 14 years old. She trained as a ‘change agent’ for her community through the Family Guidance Association of Ethiopia’s south west office in Jimma, the capital of Oromia region. Amin comes from a small, conservative town about 20km outside the city. "I wanted to protect girls from violence – like early marriage – and I wanted to change people’s wrong perceptions about sex and sexuality, because they [men in her community] start having sex with girls at a young age, even with girls as young as nine years old, because of a lack of education." "They suddenly had to act like grown-up women" "Before I started this training I saw the majority of students having sex early and getting pregnant because of a lack of information, and they would have to leave home and school. Boys would be disciplined and if they were seen doing things on campus, expelled. Girls younger than me at the time were married. The youngest was only nine. They would have to go back home and could not play anymore or go to school. They suddenly had to act like grown-up women, like old ladies. They never go back to school after marriage. My teacher chose me for this training and told me about the programme. I like the truth so I was not afraid. I heard about a lot of problems out there during my training and I told myself I had to be strong and go and fight this." "I have a brother and four sisters and I practiced my training on my family first. They were so shocked by what I was saying they were silent. Even on the second day, they said nothing. On the third day, I told them I was going to teach people in schools this, so I asked them why they had stayed silent. They told me that because of cultural and religious issues, people would not accept these ideas and stories, but they gave me permission to go and do it. Because of my efforts, people in my school have not started having sex early and the girls get free sanitary pads through the clubs so they no longer need to stay home during periods." Training hundreds of her peers "I know people in my community who have unplanned pregnancies consult traditional healers [for abortions] and take drugs and they suffer. I know one girl from 10th grade who was 15 years old and died from this in 2017. The healers sometimes use tree leaves in their concoctions.  We tell them where they can go and get different [safe abortion] services. The first round of trainings I did was with 400 students over four months and eight sessions in 2017. Last year, I trained 600 people and this year in the first trimester of school I trained 400. When students finish the course, they want to do it again, and when we forget we have a session, they come and remind me. At school, they call me a teacher. I’d like to be a doctor and this training has really made me want to do that more."

Youth leader Nebiyu Ephirem, 26, has been staffing the phones at a hotline for young people who have questions about sexual and reproductive health (SRH) since it started in 2017 in Ethiopia’s Oromia region.  The helpline has two phones and is free, anonymous and open six days a week. The helpline is aimed at people aged 17-26 who are curious about SRH but are too shy or afraid to ask others about topics such as contraception, menstruation, and diseases.  The hotline also advises people dealing with emergencies following unprotected sex and issues such as unintended pregnancy and concerns over sexually transmitted infections (STIs), by referring people to their nearest clinic.  About 65 to 70 percent of the callers are female. Ephirem also trains other people about SRH and how to educate more young people about this. Being on call for his community  “Most days, I get about 30 to 40 calls and on a Saturday, around 50. People ask about contraceptive methods like pills and emergency contraceptives and depo provera [three-month injectable contraceptive], about the spread of STIs and HIV and how to prevent it, and about menstruation and sanitation. I give my suggestions and then they come and use Family Guidance Association of Ethiopia (FGAE) services, or I refer people to clinics all over the country. There are seven FGAE clinics in this area and dozens of private clinics. Young people need information about STIs before they come to the clinic, and when they want a service they can know where the clinics are. Most of them need information about menstruation and contraception. They fear discussing this openly with family and due to religious beliefs, so people like to call me. Culturally, people used to not want to discuss sexual issues. We took the information from IPPF documents and translated them into the two local languages of Oromia and Amharic, with the help of university lecturers. After four years, even the religious leaders did this training. We have trained university students, teachers and many more people to be trainers and 30 of them graduated. They [the people who dropped out] did not want to hear about the names in the local language of body parts. Most of the ones who stayed were boys and girls, but now we have women doing this. [At first], they were laughing and said: ‘How could you talk like this? It’s shameful. But slowly, they became aware. They now talk to me, they discuss things with their parents, families, even teachers at school and friends.” Lack of sex education  There is no sex education in Ethiopia’s national curriculum but youth groups and activists like Ephirem and his colleagues go into schools and teach people through school clubs. “This year [2019] up to June we trained 16,000 people and reached 517,725 adolescents and young people aged 10 to 24 through the helpline, social media – Facebook, Twitter and YouTube – workshops, radio talk shows and libraries.” A banner in Jimma town promotes the helpline and its number 8155, as does Jimma FM radio.  “The target for reaching people in school was 5,400. We achieved 11,658. The most effective way to reach people is at school. At the coffee plantation sites we reach a lot of people.”  The minimum family size around here is about five and the maximum we see is 10 to 12. In our culture, children are [considered as a sign of] wealth and people think they are blessed [if they have many]. When we go to schools to teach them, there are kids that already have kids. But after we teach them, they generally want to finish education and have kids at 20-25-years-old. We tell people they have to have kids related to the economy and to their incomes and we calculate the costs to feed and educate them. I’m a volunteer here, so it’s mental satisfaction I get from doing this. I get 1000 Ethiopian Birr [roughly USD 30] per month for transport costs. I am also studying marketing at university and want to become a business consultant.”

Rewda Kedir works as a midwife in a rural area of the Oromia region in southwest Ethiopia. Only 14% of married women are using any method of contraception here.  The government hospital Rewda works in is supported to provide a full range of sexual and reproductive healthcare, which includes providing free contraceptives and comprehensive abortion care. In January 2017, the maternal healthcare clinic faced shortages of contraceptives after the US administration reactivated and expanded the Global Gag Rule, which does not allow any funding to go to organizations associated with providing abortion care. Fortunately in this case, the shortages only lasted a month due to the government of the Netherlands stepping in and matching lost funding. “Before, we had a shortage of contraceptive pills and emergency contraceptives. We would have to give people prescriptions and they would go to private clinics and where they had to pay," Rewda tells us. "When I first came to this clinic, there was a real shortage of people trained in family planning. I was the only one. Now there are many people trained on family planning, and when I’m not here, people can help." "There used to be a shortage of choice and alternatives, and now there are many. And the implant procedures are better because there are newer products that are much smaller so putting them in is less invasive.” Opening a dialogue on contraception  The hospital has been providing medical abortions for six years. “Before, there was no safe abortion," says Rewda. She explains how people would go to 'traditional' healers and then come to the clinic with complications like sepsis, bleeding, anaemia and toxic shock. If they had complications or infections above nine weeks, Rewda and her colleagues would send them to Jimma, the regional capital. "Before, it was very difficult to persuade them to use family planning, and we had to have a lot of conversations. Now, they come 45 days after delivery to speak to us about this and get their babies immunised," she explains. "They want contraceptives to space out their children. Sometimes their husbands don’t like them coming to get family planning so we have to lock their appointment cards away. Their husbands want more children and they think that women who do not keep having their children will go with other men." "More kids, more wealth" Rewda tells us that they've used family counselling to try and persuade men to reconsider their ideas about contraception, by explaining to them that continuously giving birth under unsafe circumstances can affect a woman's health and might lead to maternal death, damage the uterus and lead to long-term complications. "Here, people believe that more kids means more wealth, and religion restricts family planning services. Before, they did not have good training on family planning and abortion. Now, women that have abortions get proper care and the counseling and education has improved. There are still unsafe abortions but they have really reduced. We used to see about 40 a year and now it’s one or two." However, problems still exist. "There are some complications, like irregular bleeding from some contraceptives," Rewda says, and that "women still face conflict with their husbands over family planning and sometimes have to go to court to fight this or divorce them.”

Meseret* and Melat*, volunteers Known in their local community as demand creators, Meseret and Melat, from the Family Guidance Association of Ethiopia’s (FGAE) confidential clinic head out to visit sex workers in Jimma town. This group of volunteers are former, or current, sex workers teaching others how to protect themselves from sexually transmitted infections (STIs) and unintended pregnancy. Their work is challenging, and they travel in pairs for safety - their messages are not always welcome. Share on Twitter Share on Facebook Share via WhatsApp Share via Email Meseret* and Melat*, volunteers Meseret and Melat from the Jimma clinic talk to sex workers in their local community about sexual health concerns, as well as provide contraception. “It’s very difficult to convince sex workers to come to the clinic. Some sex workers tend to have no knowledge, even about how to use a condom.” says Meseret. Share on Twitter Share on Facebook Share via WhatsApp Share via Email Melat, volunteer It can be challenging persuading women that the staff at the confidential clinic are friendly towards sex workers and will keep their information private. “When we try to tell people about HIV we can be insulted and told: ‘You are just working for yourself and earn money if you bring us in.’ They sometimes throw stones and sticks at us,” said 25-year-old Melat. Share on Twitter Share on Facebook Share via WhatsApp Share via Email Fantaye, sex worker Getting information and contraception to women often involves going out to find them, such as Fantaye, a sex worker currently living in a rental space in Mekelle. Peer educators focus on areas populated with hotels and bars and broker's houses, where sex workers find clients. Share on Twitter Share on Facebook Share via WhatsApp Share via Email Sister Mahader, FGAE Sister Mahader from FGAEs' youth centre talks to sex workers in Mekelle, about sexual health, wellbeing, and various methods of contraception. This outreach takes place weekly where information and advice is given to groups of women, and contraception is provided free of charge. Under threat from the loss of funding from the US Administration, the Jimma clinic has been forced to reduce the range of commodities available to its clients such as sanitary products, soap and water purification tablets. Share on Twitter Share on Facebook Share via WhatsApp Share via Email Hiwot Abera*, sex worker Hiwot* after her appointment at FGAEs confidential clinic in Jimma. The clinic offers free and bespoke healthcare including HIV and STI testing, treatment and counselling, contraceptives and safe abortion care. Many sex workers have experienced stigma and discrimination at other clinics. In contrast, ensuring confidentiality and a safe environment for the women to talk openly is at the heart of FGAEs’ healthcare provision at its clinics.*pseudonymPhotos: ©IPPF/Zacharias Abubeker Share on Twitter Share on Facebook Share via WhatsApp Share via Email

Emebet Bekele is a former sex worker turned counsellor, who works at the Family Guidance Association of Ethiopia (FGAE) run, confidential clinic in Jimma, Oromia. The clinic was set up in 2014 to help at-risk and underserved populations such as sex workers. The clinic provides free and bespoke services that include HIV and STI testing, treatment and counselling, contraceptives and comprehensive abortion care.  Counselling sex workers In her new role, Emebet counsels others about HIV and treatment with anti-retroviral drugs, follows up with them and monitors their treatment. Emebet tries to be a role model for other girls and women who are sex workers to adopt a healthier lifestyle “The nature of the sex work business is very mobile, and they often go to other places when the coffee harvest is good, so I tell them about referrals and take their phone numbers so I can keep counselling them”. “The difficult thing is sex workers using alcohol and drugs with ARVs [anti-retrovirals], which is not good and also means that they forget to take their medication. The best thing is that I know and understand them because I passed through that life. I know where they live so I can call them and drop medicine at their homes.” Bekele regularly tests sex workers and every month, “a minimum of five out of a hundred, maximum ten” test positive for HIV.  An increase in HIV cases Over the last five years, her reports show an increase in the number of HIV cases due to more sex workers coming in or changing clinics to attend the confidential clinic. Partly because the staff are friendly towards sex workers, who often report facing stigma in other public hospitals or being turned away when staff hear what they do. At the confidential clinic, people can walk-in any time, which better suits the sex worker lifestyle, but crucially, the service is confidential. “The ARV clinics in government hospitals are separate so everyone knows you have HIV. Also, people will see others crying and say that they have HIV,” says Bekele. A shared experience  “I used to be a sex worker, so I have a shared experience with them. When I came to this clinic I taught people about this place and the services and I counsel and train them. I didn’t have any knowledge about sex work so I also got infected. When I got knowledge, I decided I wanted to do something to help others.” “Sometimes clients add extra money for sex without condoms and sometimes sex workers have been drinking and don’t notice their clients have not used condoms. To have sex using a condom usually costs about 300 Ethiopian Birr [roughly USD 7] but it can go as low as 50 Birr [USD 1.20] or 20 Birr [USD 0.50], whereas sex without using a condom costs 200 to 300 Birr more or even up to 1000 Birr [USD 24].” When Bekele was a sex worker, she would take home about 7,000 to 8,000 Birr per month [roughly USD 170 to 190], after paying job-related expenses such as hotels, as well as for substances like alcohol to get through it. As a counsellor, she now gets 2,000 Birr to cover her travel costs.  “I have already stopped and I’m now a model for these girls. I have financial problems but life is much more than money.” “I see girls aged 10, 13 and 15 who live on the streets and take drugs. Sometimes we bring them from the streets and test them. Most of them are pregnant and I help them.” “This project is useful for our country because there aren’t any others helping sex workers and if there are ways to help them, we save many lives and young people. If you teach one sex worker, you teach everyone, from government to university staff and anyone who goes to see them, so I save many lives doing this job.”

“I saw this challenge when children are having children and they're having a number of children at a very young age,” says 37-year-old Matiisetso Sefako, after emerging from the Lesotho Planned Parenthood Association (LPPA) tent in Mokhethoaneng village, an hour drive from the capital Maseru. “For them to be engaged in family planning, it would really help them.” The mother of two lives just outside the village and says she’s become something of a community activist on the issue of early child marriage and the need for family planning. After she receives services, she lingers for an hour, speaking with young women and teenage girls who are looking over at the LPPA mobile clinic with interest.    She herself was a 19-year-old mother and has been using contraceptives for nearly 20 years. Then, it was harder to come by and she would often have to travel at her own cost. Now, she comes regularly when LPPA makes the monthly visit to her village.  And she’s done quite a lot on this to advise people to try and convince them to come and access such services, she says.  “The only problem I encounter is that the biggest challenge within the village is that there is a high rate of teenage pregnancy. I try to convince them this tent will help.”  This is her fourth visit to the LPPA outreach to receive services herself. Her only wish? “That these services be here every day,” she says, explaining that there is a deeply-felt need in her community and her hope is that she can refer more young women to follow up and receive the same monthly services she benefits from.  

When Raphel Marafan Kori’s husband died in 2001, she was left to fend for herself, in a largely patriarchal society. Now 45-years-old, she keeps busy and earns an income as a peer educator in Tsenekeng village in Lesotho’s Semonkong region.  She goes door to door to counsel her neighbors and residents of the village in family planning options available. She’s been doing it for nine months and visibly brightens when she starts talking about the work. "I introduce myself, after that I explain to the people the services that we provide, the importance of the choices that we can make about contraceptives."  She was appointed by the village chief, Makholu Mahao, to participate in a training provided by LPPA in the capital, Maseru and soon after, dove into her fieldwork. Some people immediately understand and welcome the offerings, she says, while others take some time.  Protection & permission  Now nine months into the work, she says the biggest issue facing her community is “that adolescents still need consent from the parents. And the parents seem to have a problem with that because in a way, [they think] it is allowing them, giving them the freedom to indulge in sex.”  “Another way I can explain [is to] mention  HIV testing here and to remind [parents] it's not only they're getting protection but also for them to help them plan for future."   Going door to door Occasionally she’ll hold community gatherings, but mostly she has these conversations door to door. “I’m working very hard to make sure the children also engage in this for the future. It’s a challenge,” she admits. She herself comes to the mobile outreach post for family planning services, something she says helps break the ice when she is out in the community talking about family planning. She tells them she uses the pill because she is allergic to the injectable option offered here.  “I get to talk to people because I can counsel them on HIV and AIDS daily to make them understand that just because you have HIV it's not the end of the world but you need to take your medication properly and life continues,” she explains proudly, sitting a few meters away from the She Decides tent with a line of women outside. Overall, she says she has benefitted as much from her work as the beneficiaries. “I engage with people. I also learned a lot, it educated me especially on the protection side because even myself before I was not aware of such information but now I've learned and I can give other people this information.” 

“I was 18 when I married. But back then that was old!” 76-year-old Makholu Mahao laughs as she goes on to list her nine children – 4 boys, 5 girls including twins.  “At the time that I was married, if I knew about contraceptives, I wouldn’t have had so many children,” she insists.  Her tone becomes forceful and serious when she shifts to subjects like teenage pregnancy and childhood marriage, both ills that are prevalent in her village in the Semonkong region, known as Tsenekeng Hamojalefa.  The village sits atop a rocky hillside, most easily accessible by horse or donkey, and 114 kilometres from the capital, Maseru. She is the village chief now, a post she took up when her husband, the former chief, died.  And to her, “the big challenges are teenage pregnancy and early marriage. We’re seeing the difficulty in labor, children dying in labor, and young mothers dying in early labor. Those are the main things I need assistance with,” she explains to staff from Lesotho Planned Parenthood Association (LLPA), on a field visit to LPPA’s mobile clinic down the hill from Makholu’s home.  More than family planning “How can we stop this problem,” she asks her visitors.  Underage girls “marry at a young age, they don’t know what marriage is. They bear children and bear children and have problems, like death or infant death,” she reiterates. And it’s not just family planning that benefits the residents of her village. 16 villages ring the hillsides around the mobile outreach post, set up today to offer family planning, counseling, and HIV testing.  Before the arrival of LPPA on a monthly basis, “we were not receiving any other services other than the two clinics,” she explains, describing clinics approximately 40 km from her village. She adds, “We would leave early in the morning to get there at 9 or 10 to get the services. It was very congested so we would leave and get back here without getting any services.” Encouraging young people When it comes to combatting stigma in a patriarchal society, this great grandmother says some couples do go together for services or at least are in agreement about pursuing services. Still, “men cannot go with the women,” she explains. Throughout the day, men and women gather in separate groups outside the LPPA tents to receive consultations separately.  She sends a strong message by giving her OK for underage single women to seek family planning services. “It is acceptable that [minors] can get it [services], single or not,” she says. “At the end of the day, it’s protection for early pregnancy. The elderly – like me – don’t usually agree with that. But the [minors] will go on their own, however they can. I support that.”    

Bolelwa Falten in based in Losotho’s capital, Maseru, and has been working as a HIV counsellor for the better part of a decade, bouncing from different organizations depending on where the funding goes. Before she joined, IPPF nine months ago, 40-year-old Bolelwa worked with PSI Losotho. Now, she runs the “North team” as part of LPPA’s outreach program.  She handles five different outreach posts and today, she is running the HIV testing clinic at one site.  Bolelwa proudly takes us through the full range of tests and counseling services they offer there, taking particular pride in explaining how she follows up patients who test positive. She knows the beneficiaries appreciate the work – it’s something she sees every time she does an outreach day.  “They no longer need transport money, time to get to the clinic. Our being here is actually bringing the service to where they are and where they need it,” she says. But quickly, she follows up, noting that in general, HIV and STI mobile healthcare services have been hit-hard by funding cuts in recent years.

"This is a relief. I'm feeling very happy now that services have been brought,” 34-year-old Makamohelo Tlali, says, smiling outside the Lesotho Planned Parenthood Association (LPPA) tent on the hillside of Hamoshati village in Lesotho. Makamohelo is a relatively new beneficiary of family planning services offered monthly at a post near her village. This is her second visit. She walks over 30 minutes each way but says that’s by far the best option for her.  "I feel happy that services are here, for free. When I accessed them before it would take transport costs to get to the place."  In the past, it would cost her 40 rand for taxis to the closest clinic, plus the additional cost of family planning services.      Makamohelo first heard about these offerings from a peer mobilizer going door to door in her village.  “I met her along the way and discussed the way I can access family planning services. They’re scarce this side. And she told me on a specific date there would be LPPA people offering services." “Now here I am,” she says, laughing.  She takes advantage of the free HIV testing offered here as well and says she is hopeful the family planning will be maintained, mentioning that other NGOs have come and gone over the course of several years. For her and her husband, family planning is openly discussed in the household and important for the health of their current family. They have three children, 2 girls and a boy.  “Three is enough! My husband has no problem with me accessing family planning here,” she explains, adding that her husband relies on piecemeal jobs while she farms to feed the family.