I’ve been mulling an idea for our next campaign for a few weeks and now is the time to put it in motion. I’m nervous, because its success depends on a group of women I’ve never met. I sense it will either be a phenomenal success or a colossal failure, but that’s how a lot of things have played out in my life, and I’m determined to go for it.

I start in Filipe, a tiny valley village. I hand out disposable cameras and ask the women one question: “Who are you?” I explain that, through 25 pictures, they can tell me their stories: what they love; what makes them happy; and, what defines them.

They’ve never held a camera before and look both intrigued and skeptical (kind of how I’m feeling). We give them a quick Photography 101 tutorial and those gathered around erupt in cheers whenever a woman pushes the button for the first time.

I say, “I want you to show me, in the 25 pictures you take in one day, what makes you, well, you.” I tell them this is their chance to tell people their stories – the pleasure, the heartbreak, the mundane and the unusual…all of it.

I let them know that we’ll take their photos and words, and put them into a book or clothing for people around the world to purchase. The money raised (all of it) will come back to their community to help them start businesses. The ladies can’t believe that people would spend money on their stories and I reassure them that the world is listening.

I explain that investing in women and girls is one of the fastest and best means of advancing human development for all. In the past, we’ve had tremendous success empowering women by organizing them into committees while providing business models, training and start up materials for machines such as cassava grinders. (Women currently spend hours collecting and hand-grinding cassava, a potato-like tuber that is a diet staple. The initial grinder reduces two hours of work into less than five minutes, allowing the women to not only grind their own cassava, but also enough to sell at the market.)

The ladies leave the meeting with their cameras, excited and optimistic. I ask them to return the cameras to me at my hut by seven o’clock the next morning because we’re leaving for another village.

The next day, the helix is loaded and time is running out. With fifteen minutes to spare, not one camera has been returned to me. As the group prepares to leave, I sit in the clearing, despondent and demoralized.

I had such high hopes for this project. I suspect the rigors of their day impeded the women, and it’s like a vicious circle that can’t be broken. This trip has been harder on my body and heart than any other – I miss my family so much and I begin to wonder what kind of difference we’re really making.

And then, it happens. All of the women emerge from the jungle at once: cameras in hand; faces beaming; and eyes aglow. I collect the cameras of these strong, brave women. They’ve taken a chance with me and I will not let them down. They’re all now very excited to be a part of this hopeful, creative and inspiring project. I thank them, saying, “You will no longer be silent. You can finally tell the story of you.”

The world is listening.

Tags: Africa, Cameroon, Charity, disposable cameras, Obakki Foundation, Treana Peake, who are you?, women’s empowerment, women’s initiatives

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