Suxali - The Next Chapter

inside the USUP Santé school of nursing

For many years my family has been visiting the remote Senegalese region of M’baye Aw, where schools are changing lives. Over the years, the schools drew boys back from a life of exploitation on the streets of Saint Louis, and at the same time, more and more girls enrolled for the first time. Thousands of children have received an education in this region, where previously no opportunity existed other than for parents to entrust their boys to marabouts in the city, far from home, to learn the Quran. But, all too often, despite good intentions of parents, this resulted in a life of forced begging for the boys, and forced early marriage for girls (as villages emptied of boys who did not return).

talibé boys finding refuge from the streets at Maison de la Gare

Several years ago when visiting the area to sponsor an annual convoy to the nearest large town for the children to write government year-end exams - hours from M’Baye Aw- Rowan was slipped a “help me” note. From a girl who was thriving in school, but her village based education in our schools, which ends after middle school, was coming to an end. Her parents were making her marry against her will. She ferociously wanted to continue her education, but what options did she have? Cheikh, the founder of the schools project, presented me with four more letters from other girls, that they had written upon learning we were coming. Rowan and I were devastated. These horrifying letters were personal testimonies of twelve and thirteen year old girls desperate to avoid forced marriage so they could continue their precious education. The boys have returned to these villages, and yet long established traditions remain.

 

boys at recess at the Bela Doba school

It seems every solution leads to new problems. Education ended the begging talibé system here, and brings the discovery of a  world outside the village, and of the concepts of basic human rights, which, in turn, lead to dreams of more. As it should.

children studying in one of the temporary schools

Since that shattering moment of reading of the deep desire of girls to continue their education, and as understanding settled in about the height to which their barriers towered, we knew we had to do more. The schools are everything here. But even so, they are not enough.

construction of a new school is underway

Rowan conceived of and created Bourse Suxali: A scholarship for a girl from the region of the five schools our Foundation’s generous donors have sustained. An unmarried girl. A girl who cares about education so much that she found a way forward, despite unimaginable challenges. A girl who left her village after going as far as she could from home, moved to town, found room and board, attended four years of high school, and succeeded in earning her high school diploma. Suxali was to serve as motivation not just to the girls, but is designed to encourage their parents to support them in their high school and higher education dreams. A full ride, three year scholarship for a health care degree including living expenses promises great opportunity to the successful applicant. And, in a region with no health care availability whatsoever within hours and hours, the community has bought in. 

A few years ago the community pooled their resources to build a health clinic building, thinking that would solve their lack of access to health care. After all, when they built the schools (with the support of our donors for the building and ongoing funding), education did, indeed, follow. But of course, there was no nurse, no midwife, no medicines, no vaccines, and the building soon crumbled due to disrepair and lack of 

use. When we met with the villagers this week to discuss the progress of the schools and announce the second Suxali award, the Chief expressed to us that they had learned the hard way that they had put the cart before the horse, and that putting one foot in front of the other slowly in a logical, sustainable manner over the long term is what would bring progress to his people. He expressed his emotion and gratitude at seeing his children and grandchildren learning to read and write and speak foreign languages when his generation could not write their own names.  He said they all now understood the importance of Suxali and how before a new health clinic is built, first they need a nurse, a midwife, a doctor, who are connected to the area and feel a responsibility to help their neighbours. Our satisfaction in feeling our vision was understood and shared cannot be overstated.

The villagers gathered to greet us

We had visited the high school in Dahra Diolof two years ago to meet the girls in their final year of high school, to learn about their hopes and dreams, and to inform them about the opportunity of Suxali. We were there again last year to confer the inaugural scholarship to the first winner, and to inspire the next year’s candidates.

Rowan and the first Suxali scholar

A year ago, before our return to Canada, we had met the first Suxali winner, delivered a backpack with school supplies and a computer, registered her in the three year nursing program, and set her on a path to finding room and board in the city. She has embraced her education, and is in process of beginning her second year of study.

On this trip, we met the second winner of Bourse Suxali. Her dream to become a midwife is on the verge of becoming reality. Rowan had been communicating with her on Whats App, making plans for her to come to Saint Louis to meet us. We finally met in person Friday for the first time and travelled together to ESUP Santé, the nursing school. The first Suxali recipient was waiting to meet us and greeted her new mentee. After meeting with the director and completing registration formalities, Rowan made an official presentation of the new scholarship, backpack, and computer. When the registration process began, and again later as the certificate and computer were presented, she was overwhelmed with emotion. Her dreams are becoming reality, and her future awaits. 

Rowan and the second Suxali scholar

After the ceremony at the school, a tour of the facilities, and a phone call to her mother to share her news, we escorted our new scholar to Maison de la Gare to meet the team there. We headed directly to the infirmary, to introduce her to Awa, the Maison de la Gare nurse. Awa is currently in process of completing her own studies at the same school of Heath. Rowan had previously arranged for Awa to serve as the first Suxali scholar’s mentor. Rowan’s idea is that each new Suxali recipient will be mentored by the winner from the previous year.

Mentor and mentee

All of the staff at the Maison de la Gare Centre welcomed our new Suxali scholar, indicating they would be there for her, for help, support, and friendship. We left knowing she would not be alone in this new place, that she was now among friends, and that her future now lies in her own hands.

There are now two Suxali recipients working toward their dreams. It is our hope to be able to eventually fund a new Bourse Suxali each year, so that there can be three 3 year health care degrees in process concurrently, with the mentoring cycle paying it forward continuously. But, fundraising has not been as easy as we had hoped. The opportunity we see to change so many lives so dramatically is not something everyone cares to or has the means to embrace. This is understandable, as everyone has their challenges and hills to climb. We may need to pause a year before a third Suxali is offered. But who knows. As we hear expressed in Senegal so often: God is good. Things worth doing will happen. Lives will continue to be changed. And dreams will keep coming true.

Passage

Karate is an important part of my work in Saint Louis, in partnership with my son, Robbie Hughes. Its a passion project for both of us. Robbie established the Karate program at Maison de la Gare over a decade ago, soon after he had earned his own first black belt, during his first visit to Saint Louis. Since then, many challenges and triumphs later, many hundreds of talibés have donned clean, white gi’s, and grown into a strong sense of discipline, self respect, and confidence. Not to mention they have learned skills to protect themselves on the sometimes unforgiving streets.

As Robbie was not with me, and we had limited time, we did not host our usual full day martial arts tournament on this trip. Instead, we held a grading ceremony for the karatekas who had recently successfully completed their passage to higher belts.

The night before, the mats were delivered, so as to be ready first thing the morning of the ceremony. Horse cart is the method of delivery we had always used in the passed, which never fails to fascinate me.  But unfortunately I had missed the delivery the night before. In the morning the karatekas and others arrived at the centre early, working together to help organize the mats and arrange chairs. 

The time for the demonstration arrived. The karatekas who would be granted their new belts, along with the others who had not succeeded in their grading or had not graded, lined up on the mat. The chairs filled up with spectators, including the staff of Maison de la Gare, students from the Yaakar school program, and many talibés. 

Sensei Ignéty Ba welcomed everyone, and congratulated the successful karatekas on their achievements. He spoke of the importance of karate not only for health and self defence, but as a way of living and as a philosophy for life. Issa was introduced as the president of Maison de la Gare, and mostly in Wolof he talked about the advantages karate offers vulnerable and exploited talibés. Issa also spoke of the importance of our long partnership and of karate, and congratulated the kids on their achievements. Then, I was introduced and I thanked them all for providing Robbie and I the extraordinary opportunity of being long term partners in this project. I also congratulated all of the karatekas and each of the successful graders, in turn, from Robbie, and I passed on how proud he is of each of them, and how sorry he is that he could not be with them.

Then Sensei and the attending WKF judges invited the karatekas to begin the demonstration. The audience silenced. The force, skill, focus and kime demonstrated was truly impressive, I could feel the astonishment in the air. The audience watched keenly, surprised by the obvious skill demonstrated by talibés. After kata, they switched to bunkai applications, demonstrating various self defence techniques. The mood lightened as mock attackers swaggered threateningly with batons and wooden knives, only to be thrown to the ground as they succumbed to their wood-be victims. The karatekas leaned into their moment, break-falling skillfully then groaning and rolling on the ground, and playing dead. The crowd ate it up. 

When the demonstration was complete it was time to present the six new belts to those who had succeeded with passage. The challenges these kids have faced to get to this point cannot possibly be underestimated.  I was offered the first certificate and Orange belt to present. We bowed, I removed the old

 

belt, tied on the new one, placed the yellow belt around his shoulders. Issa was handed the second orange belt to confer. Although not a karateka himself, he had observed my method and copied it exactly, tying the new belt perfectly around the waist of the successful grader. Each youth was presented his new belt in turn. Together, we all felt the triumph of passage.

It was time for The Breaking of the Belts. I described the tradition we follow in Canada that when we earn new belts, though hard work, dedication to the principles of karate, and a successful passage, the Breaking of the Belts symbolizes this important transition, and that they no longer would have need of their old belts. Together they all solemnly removed their old belts from around their shoulders, folded them carefully, and held the belts out in front of themselves, curious about what was next. I asked them to twist the belts first one way and then the next, symbolizing the breaking of the belts they no longer had need of. It was done. The pride was palpable, mine in them, and theirs in themselves. The audience erupted in applause. 

Finally, Sensei Bouaro, once a begging talibé himself, and now a second dan black belt, was invited to the mat. Bouaro has had the longest and most difficult road imaginable in reaching this point. Exploited in a daara for years, far from his family in Guinea Bissau, karate has been his refuge. He has devoted his life to karate, it is his love and his hope. Sensei Ignéty awarded Buaro the certificate of his recently earned level B kumité as an accredited judge, and it felt to me as if Bouaro had summited Mount Everest. 

The crowed clearly had been impressed and several kids approached Sensei afterward asking about joining the karate program. The karatekas removed the mats, stacking them to the side, and they collected the chairs. Just as at tournaments back home, the stack of mats soon attracted the attention of many young kids, who discussed the wonders they had seen as they played - begging bowls forgotten for the time being.

Into the Desert

Our driver arrived late after waiting for us at the wrong hotel. Not too important, unless you rise at 4:30 am in the dark to leave in time to have a hope of returning before dark. We have learned to be flexible here. Dotting every “i” and crossing every “t” never results in anything close to certainty here. I have learned to accept this as part of the charm of Saint Louis.

The road to Dahra Diolof from near Louga was surprisingly good. The stretch of “pavement” that once took 3 or more hours to traverse with great care we flew over in one third the time, only pausing for the occasional donkey or zebu standing in the road. we arrived in Dahra in good time and picked up our desert guide, Omar. I remarked on the continuation of the excellent road, but then we turned off to the right, dipping onto a desert track. We soon found ourselves surrounded by dromedaries as they leisurely crossed the track.

About an hour after leaving the last town behind we arrived in the village of Kilif to visit the Fehdoba school. We had not yet visited this school during our previous trips to this area. The contributions of a generous donor to our foundation have been supporting the education program and the villagers had been hoping for many years we would visit. 

This school has 71 students, including girls and boys, from 35 small villages. Students from the closest only walk about a kilometre, while the farthest live a distance of 7 kilometres.

The school structure must be rebuilt by the community about every four months due to rains, wind, or animals. Last year they submitted an application to register the school officially with the government - the first step, they hope, toward having a permanent school for their children someday.

They have submitted the application to register the school officially- the first step, they hope, toward having a permanent school someday. 

We were astonished to discover a group of villagers had been waiting for us all morning at the road, in order to guide us to the school. We walked together past a water tap where people come from many kilometres to collect water.

As we approached the school, a shelter structure with a black board for instruction, matts for the students, and a shade-providing stick roof, the village chief and the head of the women’s community came to meet us. There had been a death in the village, and so class had been cancelled for the day and they were very sorry that many villagers could not be here to greet us as they would have wished. The teacher, Habibou Sy, gave us a tour and explained the curriculum of French, and Arab.

Our next stop was the school of Bela Doba. Class was in session. As Rowan and I stepped through the doors the students burst out in applause and greetings. There we 43 students in attendance between ages 6 and 15. A second class of younger students attends in the afternoon.

This school also used to be a temporary structure, made of straw. during our first visit to this area, we saw the destruction that remained of the school after the rainy season. Most seasons the villagers rebuilt, if they could afford to. The grant of another generous donor allowed for a permanent school building to be built here, which we had visited two years ago. 

The entire village had gathered to greet us, to discuss the importance of education for their children, and to offer thanks. We in turn expressed our appreciation for their trust and our gratitude for the honour of being their partners in such an important cause.

We were going to save the 15 pairs of reading glasses we brought for the next village, as we had previously brought glasses for this community. But two women and three men, including the village elder (age 90) requested a pair, as they did not receive them last time. The elder had walked on his own from the village to greet us, and in hopes we might have brought glasses once more. When he put the glasses on, his eyes widened in wonder and he said “Eureeka!!” 

After stopping for a meal in the village of our host, Cheikh Diallo, we carried on to a third school, Thiagale. 

The villagers and students had been gathered all day waiting for us to arrive. They had prepared a welcoming feast, and the chief offered us each a fanta upon arrival. We had already enjoyed a feast at Cheikh’s village, but we sat down again to do our best. 

Each season the straw school is destroyed here and must be rebuilt. Now, they are rebuilding it permanently. The community is stretching a modest grant from the foundation by making the bricks themselves, digging the sand from the ground onsite. and using hired help only at critical building junctures. 

During construction, classes continue in the open air, with a blackboard propped up to aid with instruction in Engligh, French, Arab, and sports.

Rowan and I had visited this school once before when it was made of straw, many years ago.

We distributed the remaining glasses. For two of the recipients, the glasses seemed to be life changing- an older lady, the mother of the teacher (or else, they may have had a running joke about her calling him her son- the senses of humour displayed here are epic), and a little boy, one of the students. The adult-sized glasses, super strength, were way too big for him. But, he could now see clearly, for the first time! I also left my bottle of advil with instructions for the wort cases of tooth decay-related pain. 

We reluctantly headed out once more, back in the direction of Louga, enroute to Saint Louis. 40 minutes later we left the rough desert track and rejoined the good road to Dahra, where we left our desert guide, Omar.  The road remained excellent until Louga. We sped up considerably upon joining the highway to Saint Louis- which was a concern as I did not have a functioning seatbelt- and we reached the Pont Faideherbe, safely, not long after night had descended.

Karate and a Pause to Reflect

I felt sense of peace envelope me as I walked through the gate of Lycée Charles de Gaulle, past the administrative buildings, and across the sand toward the dojo. A soccer match was in progress on the sports field. I reached the Sor-Karate dojo and paused to bow at the threshold, then stepped through. One by one as the senseis noticed me, they paused their instruction to turn in my direction and bow. I bowed to each, in turn. Reluctant as I was to disturb the class in session, my excitement to be present in this special place had won out. Sensei Ignéty Bâ left his students in the good hands of another and came to greet me.

“c’est ton dojo” he assured me, when I apologized for the interruption. I did not come to train this time, but to observe, pay my respects, and to see Robbie’s protégés: 9 young karateka participating in this very class. The newest little girl, Astou, a white belt in the front row of beginners, was strong and confident, her kions impressively precise for her young age. Then again, she had been mimicking her older brother and sister’s katas since she could walk. She will not be a white belt for much longer, I think. Her siblings were practicing in the more advanced group. All the kids had impressive focus and form.

Astou

I admired the technique and discipline of Robbie’s more experienced students, there would be some future leaders and champions here. Robbie would be, is, so proud of them.

I searched the class for Djiby, he was the only one I could not find on the mat. Then a little person stood before me, saying “Sonia”. He was not feeling well, and was sitting out the class, waiting for his older sister and brother. He asked where Robbie was, those two have a special bond. Djiby and I looked at many karate photos together on my phone, and he told me he likes his school, and he held my hand.

Djiby a few years ago when he was a white belt

After class, a reunion with all the kids. During class they had impressively remained focused on their practice and remained undistracted even when they spotted me.

After the kids left the dojo, I had a talk with Sensei Ignéty Bâ about the Maison de la Gare karate program he oversees. Inevitably there are always issues to resolve. And inevitably we always find a way to resolve them. Robbie, Sensei, and I are partners in this important labour of love that Robbie began over ten years ago - bringing karate to talibés of Saint Louis. Hundreds of talibés have passed through these dojo doors,  

developing confidence, learning to believe in themselves. Hundreds more have passed through the gates of the Maison de la Gare centre to enjoy the beginner classes led by Bouaro there. 

Robbie, Bouaro, Sensei Ignéty Bâ and MDG karate kids

I learned that six more talibé karateka has recently succeeded in a passage to higher belts. Gradings here are no mere formality, and many attempt multiple times, after much training before finally advancing. We agreed to hold an advancement ceremony and demonstration at Maison de la Gare Thursday morning to celebrate these remarkable achievements. I look forward to it with anticipation!

a past grading ceremony

As I walked back to the Island along the Senegal River, alone as the African sun set and then disappeared, I reflected upon how privileged  Robbie and I both are to have been so warmly welcomed into this karate community. And how fortunate were are to have the opportunity to play a role in bringing the gift of karate to so many vulnerable children.

This morning, my Dad and I walked through the tranquil morning to the Cathedral. Inside, I let the at once soothing and joyful djembe drums and choral voices wash over me. Here, reflection seemed more easily to lead to a sense of peace, and I allowed my hope for this place and my purpose to renew.