Wednesday, March 15, 2006 [ Entry by: Lauren Thompson ]

It's 7:15 am. Jurist, Patti, Annie and I – Guest House roomies – are all awake, dressed and scrambling for a quick bite to eat. Morrison begins to honk his now familiar "Beeepity-Beeep beeeep" from the CARE Jeep, signaling the start of something new on our third to last day in Sierra Leone.

Women of Maforobi village dance jubilantly to welcome our group.

Today, we're leaving for the Gbonkelenken Chiefdom to observe ProFARM (Providing Food Access Rights and Mobility) programs and livelihood projects. Basically, all of the programs today will fall into one of these categories: community markets, food processing, farming, or other community-driven, economically-incentivized initiatives that reinforce human rights at a literally grassroots level.

First stop, the Maforobi village. Jubilant dancers and singers greet us, inviting us into the rhythm of their daily lives. As we gather beneath a large, circular open-air space with handmade benches and chairs, the chief arrives and the meeting is about to begin. The chief approaches us in a polo shirt and baseball cap, shakes each of our hands firmly, and for a moment, I feel as if we may have stumbled into a boardroom. His speech is confident, needs-based, and targeted mainly towards our small group of "Westerners." I am impressed at his insights into not only the obvious needs of his community – better schools and tools to continue strengthening farming – but also his breadth of knowledge about the practices, such as improved access to credit, that are linchpins for successfully addressing problems in the village.

A CARE staff shows us Maforobi's charts and hand-drawn maps.

Thirty minutes of touring the village farm and observing hand-drawn "maps" of the community plan for growing and harvesting, we leave Maforobi with a distinct view of one aspect of CARE's work: Village leaders play a key role in the extent to which programs are implemented and sustained.

On the road to another village, as we all attempt to sleep, write, or work through the bumps, I am comforted by something strangely familiar along the red dirt roads. The red clay reminds me of Georgia. When we are welcomed in the next village by schoolchildren in bright blue uniforms, I think of my mom and her 2nd graders in Atlanta singing their songs, perhaps even the national anthem just like our young greeters. In making these mental parallels, I can't help but question the disparities as well. How do we get these children of Sierra Leone the opportunities that children in the United States have every day? What roads need to be paved for them to access a future free of extreme poverty? I realize that these questions are not easily answered, but in the next hour, I am eager to attend my first human rights workshop, which I hope will bring the strategies for helping the children, their parents, and future generations further into light.

Local school children in blue uniforms greet us with their national anthem.

Dancing all the way to the main hall, we sat down for our first CARE human rights seminar, facilitated by a lecturer and translator. Our group is eager, but we worry that we may be a distraction at what appears to be a serious educational community event. However, the crowd settles and the questions for the community begin without much delay. The question-and-answer format is conducive to participation and we notice the ways that the women and men attempt to engage in the discussion. The first question, "What are human rights?" – elicits an interesting response from one woman: "Rights to our husband!" A few people chuckle and the facilitator uses the response as an opportunity for further engagement. He speaks about socioeconomic, political and individual rights for oneself, family and community as well as the limitations on a right: someone else's right. By the end of the seminar, we were able to ask questions about the process of enforcing accountability for rights violators: There is a human rights record book to write down names of violators, which are then reported to the chief of the village and if not resolved, to the human rights department in the police station. With the new government policy called "Access to Justice," the violators are then entitled to get free lawyers.

The discussions that followed the seminar were some of our most interesting as a group, perhaps because for the first time, we were able to witness the micro level of engaging real people in a discussion about their rights. I think it was important for us to see the practical challenge of teaching others to embrace their rights and to make them manifest in their daily lives. A fitting end to our activities in the field, the seminar encapsulated an emerging theme of our journey thus far: Each day, we add another face to the growing family of stakeholders for achieving rights-based development. Whether a villager, chief, or program facilitator, each plays a key role in determining the successful sustainability of the programs.