Goodbye for Now, but Not for Long, Insha'Allah

  

 

It is always so difficult to leave Maison de la Gare. Yes, progress has been made, supplies were delivered, issues were resolved, children have been registered in school, 8 more kids are registered at the dojo, karate seems locked-down and a future karate volunteer trip is fleshed-out, the medical report was completed, articles were written. Dad has slogged through his own long list of objectives as well - sleep is so over-rated, after all. But, despite the satisfaction of accomplishment, It tears at my heart to walk down the alley away from the centre. I can never be sure if I will see these boys again. 

 

 

The lives the talibes lead are so unpredictable. They have so little control over their own destinies and are at the mercy of the whims of their marabouts. Kids who have been attending classes at Maison de la Gare, learning to read and write, who feel secure in knowing the staff truly care about and watch over them, could disappear without warning. Marabouts can move an entire daara of kids to a remote location to work their fields as a convenient source of slave labour. Or, children could be arbitrarily barred from Maison de la Gare if a favour for a marabout's personal gain was asked of the center but refused. Or, a child suffering intolerable abuse at his daara could silently vanish and become a runaway, alone and vulnerable on the streets. On my last visit I was horrified to learn a group of 12 children from one daara who had passionately participated in the karate program were barred from returning to the centre by their marabout. The marabout had attacked one boy to punish him for some "transgression"  (an unfortunately common occurrence) and the boy had defended himself with the skill of a martial artist. Only by squashing the hope and the budding karate talent of these boys did the marabout feel able to keep them under his boot.

 

On this visit I was distressed to discover one of my dear teenage talibe friends is seriously considering leaving Senegal to try to make his way across the desert to Libya, and then onto a migrant boat, and then to Europe in search of a better future. He has heard it is possible to get an education in Europe. He has identity papers back in The Gambia, so he could attend high school there. But, he has an intolerable family situation at home to which he cannot bear to return. We had many discussions about the terrors and dangers and extortion of illegal migration to Europe. We also talked long and hard about the discrimination and challenges that await at the other end if the journey were successful. I think, I hope he has changed his mind. Education is his goal. Issa Kouyate could help him find a way to return then get by in The Gambia while continuing his education. If he can finish high school with honours ( which I have no doubt this very intelligent, ambitious boy could do), then a world of possibility could lie at his feet. I hope I get the chance to try to find my friend a scholarship to attend university some day.

Another dear friend my son Robbie's age was back in Saint Louis in search of work. Amadou Diao had previously been sent back by Maison de la Gare to his home in the Casamence to continue with his formal education. But, apparently he has no papers - a ridiculously common situation in Senegal when papers must be obtained for a fee within days of birth, regardless of the remoteness of one's birthplace - and thus he has very little chance of being registered in the public school system without resorting to bribery. This very intelligent boy had given up on school. But, after many hours of our discussions about the importance of eduction as the key to nearly everything, Amadou Diao also changed his mind. This Monday, with support from Maison de la Gare, he got on a bus back to his home town, school fees in hand and schoolbag on his back, to try to begin again with the new school  year this Wednesday. I cannot help but worry for my young friend, at this moment alone on a journey of possibly days, headed to an unknown future with little more than his school fees in his pocket and hope in his heart. I cannot help but imagine my own 14 year old on such a journey, alone. If Amadou Diao is successful, I may never see him again. But, it is certain I will never forget him.

 

Another friend, a talibe with amazing passion and skill for karate, Ismaila, had been sent off to help build a house for his marabout last year. Karate, which Ismaila lived for, was stopped in its tracks. But, I was delighted to learn Ismaila will soon be back to Saint Louis. The word is around that he is on his way. I have no doubt he will be back at Maison de la Gare and back at the dojo as soon as he returns. I anxiously await my next chance to see Ismaila again, back on his way to earning his blue belt in karate.

 

Many other talibe faces continue to reappear year after year. They show up for games, they can be found in the library, or arrive just in time for a meal, they wander into class, or limp into the health climic. They lounge in the shade of the garden, and watch movies in the computer room. Some have fallen in love with karate. As long as they continue to visit Maison de la Gare, these boys will know that someone cares for them. And, hope will remain alive.

 

 

As my flight leaves Dakar behind and the ocean passes underneath I can still hear the echo of the beautiful voices calling to me: "Sonia", "Hey! le Canada!", "Sonia-Karate", "Robbie?", "Rowan?". I hang onto the promise offered by Mamadou taking my left hand with his left instead of the usual right, signifying we shall meet again, God willing. I  will be back, insha'Allah.