Thursday, September 29, 2016

Karate Still Kicking at Maison de la Gare

 
 
Knowing this day there would be a karate class at the centre, I was apprehensive because it is so hot and humid. I don't do well in the heat. But I DO do well with inspiration. So, when the talibes put on their gi's so did I. Apparently the word got around that I would be helping with karate at the centre, and many extra talibes gathered along the walls to watch. There was much giggling and pointing when ever I kiayed. 

Two new students joined the morning class. They had been waiting to join since my previous visit, but none of the unclaimed  gi's at Maison de la Gare fit them. Happily, I had two more perfect for the job in my luggage.
Issa Ba in his new gi 

Souleymane led the warm up before the Sensei from Sor-karate took over. Then, at the end of class Souleymane and I demonstrated a few intermediate katas for the class, to the delight of the little fan club. When my son, Robbie first began the karate program at Maison de la Gare, 18 months ago, Souleymane was shy but curious about this karate business. He and Robbie became great friends, and Robbie shared with Souleymane his love of karate. Today, Souleymane is a leader of the MDG karate program and he is competing for the Sor-karate dojo where 27 talibes are now registered. He warms up the class at the centre with confidence and skill. As we prepare to demonstrate his tournament kata together, his shyness returns, only to be replaced by pride as we complete the kata, nicely in sync. Robbie would also be proud to see this.
Souleymane Leads the Class 


Souleymane helped me make a list of the morning students he felt were ready for the dojo, and who wanted to join, just as Robbie did a year ago. Many had been hopefully waiting since my previous visit for their chance to become a "dojo talibe".
 

As we gathered to walk to the dojo for the evening class, it became apparent the evening meal at Maison de la Gare would not be ready in time for the kids who needed to arrive early to be registered. I could see the concern build as stomachs growled, then the resolution settle in that this chance at becoming part of something wonderful would not be missed. So, off my Dad and I went with Souleymane, leading 5 hungry talibes. Souleymane helped get the new kids oriented at the dojo, then they lined up nervously for registration. I guaranteed payment of their fees, and for two others who could not come tonight,  knowing generous karate families back home at my own dojo would be willing to help.
Registering the New Kids 

As we watched the class progress, Dad was astonished at the dedication, commitment and skill being displayed by some he had thought of until now as relaxed and, shall we say, less than diligent in many matters. Karate has transformed these kids. Or, more likely, it has brought out their best selves. They are developing an important and respected skill. They belong to something not many people are part of. They feel special, they feel the opportunity.  Another  thing that struck me as I watched, was the equality in the room. Talibes practiced along side kids from regular families, families who could afford these fees. Everyone wears the same uniform in the dojo. There are no begging street kids in this class, just martial artists.

 

No wonder kids who beg to survive are willing to forgo a certain meal for this. For them, karate is a chance at really living.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Education, the Key to Everything

 

My friend, Gna Gna has been close to talibes all her life. She grew up in Saint Louis. She has seen talibes begging on the streets as long as she can remember. She and her mother were a host family to my sister Lisa when she volunteered in Saint Louis years ago. Gna Gna and my daughter, Rowan have become friends over the years we have been volunteering here. Rowan has visited Gna Gna's school.

Gna Gna's family has long been a neighbour to Issa Kouyate, President of Maison de la Gare, watching him shelter hundreds of runaway talibes rescued from the streets in his own home over the years. Over long association with Issa, Maison de la Gare, and our family,  Gna Gna's family has become sensitized to the predicament and the potential of the talibes. They can now see these children through wide open eyes. Her mother, affectionately known to us as Mama Touty, eager to help, devoted days to guiding Rowan and I through the market labyrinths of Saint Louis as we furnished the newly built dortoir d'urgence at the Maison de la Gare Centre.
 

Gna Gna has graduated from high school and is preparing to continue to University. She wants to study architecture, and understands the importance of education. She knows it is a key to the doors of the world. And, she has learned that talibes are children of the world, in need of a helping hand to lead them to these doors.

Gna Gna presented herself at Maison de la Gare this morning, eager to offer herself as a part of a solution, as a local volunteer. With the help of staff member, Abdou Soumaree, Gna Gna gathers the talibes into the library. She begins by explaining, in Wolof to ensure they fully understand, the importance of education. She reminds them of Arouna Kande and his success as a talibe  who advanced through the public school system against all odds to earn his education. The talibe nod knowingly, appreciatively. Arouna is an example, a hero to these children. Then Gna Gna begins her French lesson.
 The children each have the opportunity to spell out their own names on a tablet. They are eager, and proud to share their accomplishments. As the lesson progresses, the crowd of talibes in the library grows, despite the fact that this is their free play time. They want to learn. They want to be like Arouna. Gna Gna explains vowels. She explains the importance of being able to read and write French in Senegal. The children agree. The crowd expands again. There is no more room in the library, so the talibes fill the doorway, leaning in for learning.

 


The lesson is a great success, in learning and in giving hope. Gna Gna will be back to give a new lesson each day. To encourage the talibes to be here again tomorrow, she finishes with "We can do this! We are a team!" The children enthusiastically agree.  

As I watched Gna Gna teach the class so competently, inspiring begging street children to imagine their limitless possibilities, I was struck with a sense that I was witnessing a massive leap forward. Local, young Senegalese are taking responsibility to make the change that is needed in this country. A new generation is seeing things differently. I sense the rumblings of an avalanche of change that may be on its way.

Later, after Gna Gna has left, I hear several voices practicing vowels. And, many letters have been traced in the sand by small fingers and sticks. Gna Gna has inspired these kids to want to learn. 

Later in the afternoon the computer room is packed with kids playing math computer games. 9 children at one computer collaborate to figure out the answer to 15 + 3 = . Hope for a better future persists at Maison de la Gare.
  

Following our discussions about the importance of education yesterday Arouna has met with a professor at his prospective High School. He says he will help Arouna find a way to continue learning, auditing classes, so as not to fall behind while he is waiting for a resolution to his lack of documents. And, Amadou Diao, too, has declared he will go back to Kolda to try to start school again. Maison de la Gare will try to help him sort out his lack of documents as well. 

Change, indeed. Insha'Allah.
 

Monday, September 26, 2016

Down the Alley and Through the Gates

 
Our first full day in Saint Louis. A morning stop at the Cyber Cafe to print some budgeting papers Dad spent the night before perfecting, then off to the centre! 

As we walk down the alley that leads to Maison de la Gare, the anticipation builds. The gate swings open, the familiar creaky hinge singing its greeting, and we step through to the oasis of peace, happiness and hope that is Maison de la Gare. 
 
"Sonia!", "de retour", "Robbie???", "Rowan?", "et Papa?" followed by a happy and knowing nod as I indicate Dad has already ducked into the office to get to work with staff on the budget thoughts we have been working on.

Souleymane and Amadou Diao are concerned that Robbie did not come with us. Several of Robbie's karate-talibe-tykes have tapped on my shoulder and demanded I produce Robbie. They asked for him several times, so I think they are hoping I will whip him out of my backpack when they are not looking. However, when I explain that Robbie needs to train for the WKC World Karate Championships coming up in November, they seem somewhat understanding. They don't really get it when I explain he can't miss too much school. But they do appreciate the karate pictures.
 


No one can understand why Rowan is not with us. Kalidou,  Mamadou, and Arouna are missing her, as are many others. I explain she is at university, studying international development. They are impressed, but not surprised. They agree it is important she attend to her studies so she can change things. They seem to have no doubt that she will, indeed, set the wrongs of the world to rights.

We begin a discussion about school. Amadou Diao is a talibe who had returned to his village to attend school. He cannot continue further with his education until someone figures out how to produce identity papers that do not exist. Arouna is facing the same issue. He struggled for years, first in Maison de la Gare classes, then in the public school system. He repeated many years, learning with students younger than himself, all while needing to meet the begging quota of his marabout. Arouna is not permitted to write his exams for his diploma because he also is without papers. He has been trying for years to obtain them so he can continue with the education he fought tooth and nail to earn to this point. He has begged his marabout to release the original birth certificate that might be Arouna's ticket but would relinquish the marabout's control of Arouna, to no avail. He has made 2 trips to his home province of Kolda in search of solutions. Apparently death certificates for his parents are required, but do not exist. And, the photocopy his previous school took of his documents is not acceptable to authorities at this time. Only an original will do. I have been told that lack of documents afflicts at least a million Senegalese, keeping them from their rights to an education (due to an unrealistic rule to obtain a birth certificate within days of birth, and death certificates within a few days also, apparently. Miss the deadline, too bad, so sad). I cannot imagine the frustration of a teenager determined to better himself with education so he can help advance his country, when he comes up against such administrative barriers of his own country's making, causing delays of years, seemingly designed to turn hope to dust. But, amazingly, Arouna does not seem to have lost hope. He perseveres in his plans to better himself and his country. And for now, he bides his time, trusting Issa, the president of Maison de la Gare, will help him find a way forward.

 


I am happy to see Tidjan again. He has been away from home, the Gambia for 8 years. He misses his mother. He is very happy to receive the Koran Arab/ English translation I brought him. He is working hard to learn English and also study the Koran. Many others are equally fascinated as the precious book is passed around. Our group moves on to a discussion of the Koran, religion and how similar our different religions are, when you get to the bottom of it. They love to hear me translate the prayers they say by rote, so they can understand. And, they exclaim and agree how we are all the same, even believing in and loving the same God. It is so basic, so simple. What is wrong with the world that it cannot be this way once childhood is left behind?!

Mamadou gives me a tour of the garden, robust with fruit after the rainy season. This year the grape vines produced a crop of grapes for the first time, doubling their duty of giving shade over the arbour terrasse. 
 
Young talibes are enjoying the library, reminding me of the love of books of my own kids at that age, when they also enjoyed many of their reads upside-down.
 
In the afternoon I hop on a city bus with Souleymane, Kalidou and Issa Ba, to the Maison de la Gare cultivation lands at Bango. Mamadou meets us there. No one remembers the key. Souleymane hauls himself over the gate to let us in and we spend a few hours giving the plants their afternoon soaking. This close to the equator night descends quickly. It is dark for the walk back to the centre from the bus stop.

 I return to the centre too late for classes and distribution of dinner to the talibes. Souleymane is late too, grabbing his karate gi to dash off to the dojo for self defence class tonight (although honestly, it is difficult to imagine Souleymane hurrying for anything). Fortunately, there is still tomorrow...
 

 

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Welcome The African Sun...or Rain

 
How many times have I thought, or written "on my way, again..." ? One might think I would get used to the sight of the African continent coming into view out the airplane window. Or, the warm, heavy, fragrant air enveloping me as I step off the plane. Or, the chaotic, entrepreneurial dance for attention of the vendors and beggars outside the airport. Or, the vibrant, yet ancient passing Sub-Saharan landscape as we are driven to Saint Louis. Or, the genuinely delighted greeting of our friends at Maison Rose as our car pulls up. Or, the feeling that we are lucky to be part of something really special as we enter the gates of Maison the la Gare. But, it always feels new and special.

 



This trip is new in a different way, however. This time I am travelling to Senegal during the rainy season for the first time. Well, the tail end of it. The Sub-Saharan plains are greener than I knew was possible. The tree in our Hotel courtyard is blooming!! When I checked the weather forecast, compliments of my iphone, I was surprised to see three days of thunderclouds for Dakar, and one for Saint Louis. But, the temperature should be between 32 and 36 degrees everyday, as always.  This is malaria season. I packed my raincoat, bug-net, and Malarone medication. But I forgot my bug spray. That is what I get for packing late, the night before I leave. Good thing Dad remembered his.

 

It has been a few years since I made this trip without at least one of my kids accompanying me. This time, it will be as I first began my travels to Senegal, just me and my Dad. I look forward to working on fulfilling our objectives for this trip together. We have settled into an efficient rythm over our years of working together to help fulfill the vision of Maison de la Gare. With only two baggage allowances we had to pack carefully: books for the library, karate gis, belts and equipment for the talibe karate-kids, a few new computers - we can take one in each of our carry-on's, and the candy I can't resist packing for the kids.

We are, indeed, on our way, again...

 
 

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Getting Ready to Board, Remembering Why I Do This

 

As soon as I arrived at the narrow, unmarked alley in the Sor district of Saint Louis, Senegal, leading to the Maison de la Gare Welcome Centre, I heard my name being called and spotted six familiar faces. Small, barefoot, filthy, delightful, smiling street boys. The clamour and dusty chaos of the busy street receded as each child rushed forward for a proper hand clasp greeting.  Several repeated my name, wanting to ensure I knew that they know me. Their welcoming smiles grew bigger when i began to pass out candy and the group of six instantly, miraculously became a demanding horde of twenty. When will I learn? Some of the original six shook their heads at me knowingly. They accompanied me down the alley, leading me by the hand, touching my arm, sneaking more shy smiles, and repeating their own names, anxious to confirm that I also knew them.

Upon entering the sanctuary of Maison de la Gare, all I saw were smiles and all we felt was welcome. "Sonia!" "de retourn!" "Combien de temps cette fois?" "Et la famille?" "Et Robbie cette fois?" "Rowan?". It takes hours to greet everyone properly, re-confirm their understanding of their importance to me and mine to them. To be updated on recent illnesses, abuses and triumphs.

The progress at the centre is encouraging.  The coconut trees have finally taken hold, no longer in danger of succumbing to stray soccer balls or wrestling children. The papayas have survived the season of wind and sandstorms to stand tall and bear fruit. A new nurse has been hired for the medical infirmary. She will help organize the medications we brought to stock the clinic. I learn that a teacher's own attendance has become sporadic again, a recurring and challenging cultural issue. I see that more encouragement is called for. The children attend class, play games, tend the garden, wash clothes, read in the library, follow their interests and friends on Facebook at the computer centre, and karate classes continue. Soulaymane, who I love as family, proudly announces his orange belt and his commencement of sparring competition. Arouna, another I love as my own, updates me on the progress of his hard earned education. He is finally attending high school, but although freed from forced begging, still has to deal with the domination and interference of his marabout. Arouna dreams about university, of teaching and writing, anxious to influence his own change in this place. I dream about finding him a scholarship to help make it happen.

The very first time I made this journey with my father in 2010, I had no idea what to expect. I had always longed to step outside my comfort zone to give back to those without any resources to help themselves. Thanks to my father's invitation to join him on his third trip to volunteer, I was getting to do the chance to do just that. We were flying toward a level of poverty and human rights abuse beyond my experience or comprehension. How could I, a person who leads people to take control of their money in support of life objectives have anything to offer those without a penny in the world or objectives other than survival? 

I quickly fell in love with these children, their beauty, resilience, and humour, all in the face of unimaginably intolerable circumstances. They are known as talibes. There are tens of thousands of them in Senegal, all boys. They are supposed to be studying the Quran, but instead are forced to beg for quotas of money for their marabout's. Often severely abused, neglected by distant families, talibes beg for up to ten hours a day. Human Rights Watch and the United Nations refer to the talibes as modern day slaves. The government and society in general turn a blind eye. Someone else is always to blame: The Government, Parents, the Marabouts, the police who fail to enforce the law. No one but Maison de la Gare seems willing to take responsibility for these innocents. 

The first time I encountered a talibe child the age of my own son and nephews, I had an overwhelming sense that but for the grace of God, or an accident of birth, these could be my own children. And, if I could help them, I knew that I must. What makes me, or any of us in the West, any more deserving of prosperity, health, security, opportunity, and hope than these children who have perpetrated nothing to earn their circumstances but be born in this time and place. 

Since that first visit I have returned a dozen times to continue to work with Maison de la Gare, often with my father, to help build the centre according to founder, Issa Kouyate's vision, and do what I can to help the Senegalese staff help the children to maintain hope and find a way to a better life. Over the years at Maison de la Gare I have taught the children English, French and karate. I have been a project manager and a tour guide. I have tended wounds and de-wormed kids in the daaras and in the health clinic. I have been a gardener, a painter, a labourer, a mentor and a mother and a friend. My family's charitable foundation and my Dad's grant writing patience facilitates the funding of much of the progress here, funded with the help of many sympathetic contributors. All of the investment companies I work with have contributed. My Dad manages the books and maintains the website that helps fuel more donations and a thriving international volunteer program, www.mdgsl.com, as well as the Maison de la Gare www.globalgiving.com web page. We both write regular articles to keep the donations flowing. And, all the while, these children have truly become a second family to us.

Three years ago my then 14 year old daughter, Rowan, accompanied me to Senegal for the first of five times (so far). She connected with the talibes in a manner that only a young person could do. Rowan saw the talibes as equals, with the same unlimited potential that she knows herself to have, She saw them in a way they likely had never seen themselves, never considering potential limitations of kids who could barely read or write or had ever seen a computer. Rowan helped establish email accounts for the talibes of Maison de la Gare. She knew that a connection with the outside world and with herself back in Canada, the possibility of maintaining long term links with transitory international volunteers, regular exposure to different world views, and the acquisition of skills valued by modern society could benefit the talibes immeasurably. These are surely now the most on-line-savvy begging street kids in Africa.

A year ago, my husband, Robin and my son Robbie joined Rowan and I on their first visit to volunteer with Maison de la Gare. Then 13 year old Robbie, like Rowan before him, envisioned possibilities for the talibes that most adults could not have conceived of. Appreciating the advantages his sport of karate has to offer the talibes: discipline, confidence, self defence skills, and the sense of belonging to something special, Robbie convinced us to facilitate a karate program for the talibes of Maison de la Gare. Today, the pride the boys take in their white gi's and belts, donated from Canadian dojos, is evident. During Robbie's second visit with me last December, we were invited to watch some Maison de la Gare talibes earn higher belts. Their confidence was palpable, their pride in achievement was irrepressible. Robbie with his black belt, who is of an age with many of them, is an example and helps to spread the belief that anything is, indeed, possible. Even for talibes.

Perhaps the most impact we have on the children of Maison de la Gare lies simply in our example, and our interest. Maison de la Gare tries to teach them they are worthy of so much more. The simple presence of international volunteers underscores this truth. And, the presence of children competently volunteering demonstrates to the talibes how powerful kids can be.

My family and I ventured to Africa in search of giving. And, I know we did. I know it for the progress I see: the smiles on the faces, the amputations averted thanks to antibiotics, the enrolments in school, the philosophical conversations started about society's role in forced begging, the pride in achievement, the white karate belts transforming to coloured belts, the late night emails received and Facebook chats I am invited to every time I am on-line. But what we receive is far greater. Interacting with these kids not only inspires me that absolutely anything is possible,  it gives me a sense of being completely present and alive. It has transformed my and my children's paradigms. No one does this work in order to receive. But, it is inevitable, as anyone who gives knows.

A year ago I began this blog to chronicle my family's experiences in Senegal. It is updated whenever I volunteer in Africa. As uncomfortable as I am when in the public eye, I decided to write about the talibes and my experience with them, not only to raise awareness about forced begging and direct potential donors to a worthy cause, but as encouragement, to demonstrate that anyone can do this type of work. I do not lead a life full of spare time. My business is rewarding and demanding. Our family's activities seem to suck up every non-work Canadian minute, as I am sure it does for most families.  And, I have no skills relevant to international volunteering, other than some pretty rough French, an open heart and the desire to make a difference for those who cannot do it for themselves. 

Now, as I sit in the airport with my Dad, preparing to board our next flight to Dakar, we are a little more prepared than the first time. But, we are feeling just as much anticipation for this next adventure to begin.