A law unto herself

HOUWA IBRAHIM does not court publicity. But it courts her. The world's press turned up to witness her defence of Amina Lawal, the woman sentenced to be stoned to death for adultery in Northern Nigeria in 2002.

Ibrahim saw her conviction successfully crushed. But her own story is perhaps more remarkable than any of her clients'. A girl from a remote village, she defied custom and her family to get a university education. One of the first female lawyers in Northern Nigeria, she argues with Muslim prosecutors on their own terms, and has knelt at the feet of the religious leaders who called for her death.

Ibrahim, 38, is in Edinburgh this week as a spokeswoman for human rights, to take part in Sambaza, a forum at which eight key women from Africa (being called the W8) will meet to discuss strategies for the continent immediately prior to the G8 summit at Gleneagles. Ibrahim, calm, elegant, and fiercely articulate, has a few things to say to the most powerful men in the world. "I hope they use this opportunity to seize the moment. The world is looking to this meeting in Scotland to make this world safe, to make this world free, to make this world secure for all of us. There must be an effort, not talking alone, but putting structures in place to get it right. They should stop the talk show and take action."

She applauded the efforts made by the EU to reduce Africa's debt, but emphasised that creative "networking" between organisations and countries is more important than cash hand-outs, "especially when the funding is not targeted and there is no transparency and accountability".

Yes, Africa is vast and its problems are baffling, but she continually emphasises the fact that everyone can make a difference. "Are we so discouraged that we do nothing? I don't think so! We have a common meeting point. Human rights, human dignity and the respect for the worth of a person is the same. We can think globally and act locally. It's achievable. We can all do something. It might look like a drop in an ocean, but the drops make the ocean."

She knows that of which she speaks. Knows the widespread problems of poverty and illiteracy, and the more specific problems of Northern Nigeria in which women are powerless and voiceless in a harsh Muslim society. Twelve of the states in the north have chosen to implement the sharia law in criminal cases, leading to thieves being sentenced to limb amputations and adulterous women to be flogged or stoned. She knows it all because she grew up there, in the village of Hinnah in the Gombe area, where girls were not educated beyond elementary level, and were expected to marry at 12.

But Ibrahim's mother, who felt she had missed out herself because of a lack of education, was determined that her daughters should go to secondary school. "My father didn't accept it. I remember him warning my mother that if any of the children would bring disgrace on the family - he meant by getting pregnant without being married - he would kill my mother."

From an early age, Ibrahim had ambitions of her own. Ever since the day she went to buy bean cake and, unwrapping the newspaper in which it was stored, saw the smiling, confident picture of a new graduate. "I didn't know at the time that the cornered hat and gown meant a graduation, but I still remember that face, full of confidence. I wanted that confidence."

So, while the other girls saved for their marriage, she saved for her education, hiding the money under a tree. She went to teaching college, but was still dreaming of university when she saw a woman cabinet minister speaking on television about education for girls. "I thought I must look for this woman. I went maybe 100 times to see her but she was a big person in the government, so it was not easy for a poor person like me to have access to her. Every time I went, the security man sent me away. After 100 times, he said: 'I'm tired of seeing your face, go in, see her, never come back'".

The Minister was impressed by Ibrahim's determination to get into university, even though she did not have the necessary qualification in English. She left with a letter of recommendation, to Jos University, and five naira - "less than a penny in your money but more than I had ever seen! She said I had guts. I had never heard the word before, so I wrote it down and went to find a dictionary."

When her family learned that she had applied for university, they sent her away from the family home. "I had broken all the rules. At university, I had to make it. I couldn't go back. I decided to make the library my best friend. When it opened in the morning, I was waiting outside. When it closed at night I was the last person to leave. My friends changed my name from Hauwa to Library! I had to support myself, so I spent my spare time selling fruit and vegetables. "

After law school, she trained as a police detective - she giggles at the thought, then absconded - more giggling - to work as a prosecutor with the Minister of Justice. She became the first woman in Northern Nigeria to set up her own legal practice and, when her husband's work moved to the city of Abujah in 1998, she got a job with the United Nations Development Programme researching the effect of widowhood on children.

"When I went to [the capital] Lagos, I found my appointment was questioned because I came from the north. So I was determined I would do a thorough, thorough job." She travelled to 213 areas, sleeping in her car outside police stations (the safest place) because she could not afford hotels. "It was an interesting adventure, but beyond that it gave the opportunity to see extreme poverty for myself. It turned my heart. I knew how lucky I was to have an education. Now passion was within me to do good."

Back in Abujah, when she was asked if she would consider defending Bariya Ibrahim, a 13-year-old disabled girl who claimed she had been raped by three men, and now faced flogging for adultery, she didn't hesitate. "I had no idea it would levitate my position as a lawyer and take me to what I'm doing now. I never even dreamt of it."

She then represented Safiya Hussein, overturning her death sentence for adultery, and was taken to meet Amina Lawal, an illiterate village woman with an illegitimate child resigned to the same fate. Ibrahim left, but two weeks later Amina turned up in Abujah, her baby in her arms, carrying Ibrahim's business card.

"That is how she became a guest in my house. In our culture you don't send away guests. She stayed for the period of the case, about 16 months. Now she's become an extended family member, she saw me off to the airport before I came here. All the people I've defended turned into members of my family. My husband thinks I am sick!"

Ibrahim is upbeat, but her decision to defend Amina Lawal brought her into immediate conflict with the Muslim authorities. When she stated in a radio interview that she believed that stoning to death was not part of the Koran's teachings, mullahs issued death threats against her.

When some might have gone into hiding, Ibrahim set out to meet her accusers. Granted an audience in the mosque, she went to kneel at their feet. "I said: 'I am a foolish lawyer, I really don't know what I'm doing, I came here to seek your wisdom and your knowledge'. I succeeded in getting them to listen to me. In the end, they said they would not publicly oppose me, although they would not publicly support me. That was all we needed to continue the work."

There was other opposition. Anonymous phone calls warning her to leave her office "because people are coming". Criticism from within women's organisations and from other lawyers, for bringing disgrace to Islam. Her mother asked her whether she was a prostitute, since she was defending other prostitutes.

She refuses to talk about her own faith (she is Muslim) but says she is not against the sharia law. She has won her cases by arguing within that law, on legal technicalities, not on the more emotive issue of principle.

"I still maintain my position that stoning to death is not part of the Koran. I always challenge people to prove it, to show me why I should accept it. I believe that if you stone the first woman you can't stop it, so our struggle is to ensure that no woman is stoned to death at all. I'll put my life on the line that no woman will be stoned to death, we will fight it within the law."

As well as a full case load of adultery-related cases, and those threatened with amputations, she has also taken a wider perspective, studying for a PhD with an American law school, and looking at what might be done to prevent other West African countries adopting the sharia law.

She says she is no hero, just a professional, and a wife and mother, juggling her increasingly international role with the demands of her husband and sons Nico, eight, and Silvio, three. "Of course they suffer, my husband and my kids, but any time I am home I try to give them quality time. I act in such a way that my children miss me when I'm away.

"I really do not want to change the world. I just want to touch one life positively a day. Every day for me is a new day, I look for new challenges and I want to do more things. I'm not even started yet."

• Sambaza: The W8 Conference takes place at the Hub on Thursday, 10am-4pm. Tickets are free, available from [e-mail] by calling 0131 208 1008