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.