In Honour of International Women's Day

As we left Canada during International Women's Day To travel to Senegal once again, I reflected on some of the strong and remarkable women I have come to know from my time in Africa. 

Some of the first special women I met in Africa are teachers at Maison de la Gare. Bouri and Aida are both mothers of many children, and work as the primary wage earners in support of their families. And, they have also opened their hearts to the talibé boys of Maison de la Gare. When an older talibé who had been trafficked from outside of Senegal experienced challenges due to his lack of evidence of Senegalese nationality, Aida opened not just her heart, but also her home and adopted him. Aida earns a reasonable income. But, her husband is unwell and unable to work, and her house is in serious need of repair, partially ruined and exposed to the elements. She herself is challenged with health issues, but as her family is so critically dependant upon her, she must continue to work. Bouri also has taken the lead responsibility in her household to build her five children a house from the proceeds of her wages. Of course, they are both the ones also responsible for the cleaning, the cooking (a never ending task in Senegal) and ensuring their children receive an education. This is the way of women here.

Mama Touty is an exceptional lady, raising her daughter alone after a divorce, Mama Touty was my sister, Lisa's host mother when Lisa volunteered here so many years ago. She took in volunteers to supplement her income. Mama Touty took care of Lisa as if Lisa were her own child. Mama Touty has continued to watch over our family over the past ten years of visits to Saint Louis, and has become a great friend. 

During my early visits to Saint Louis I met Sokhna, a craftswoman who makes jewelry and other artwork to sell in her market stall. When I first met her she was in serious trouble, with expensive medical bills and no means of paying them. I offered her a helping hand at that time, something she has never forgotten. Now, on each trip I visit with her, following her progress and successes since that earlier difficult time. She has expanded her stall and supports her children in school,  solely responsible for her family's fortunes, of course.

More recently I was fortunate to meet Aicha, the favourite sister of my friend Cheikh. Cheikh is the cobbler We have come to know and love over the years. It is he who, saying he was inspired by Dad's example of helping the talibé through education, saved his own money to build a school in his home village. He thought if there was a school, boys would not be sent to the city to be talibés and girls, also, would have the chance for an education they would otherwise never receive. Last year, Rowan, Dad and I visited Cheikh's village in "the bush" to see the schools we have since assisted him to finance. In his village I was introduced to Aicha. As a village women with no access to modern conveniences, Aicha is accustomed to long days filled with the chores required to support her family. The water well is a 2 km walk away. And, the walk for water falls to the village women and children, of course. The cooking also falls to the women, an all day task.  Aicha was so honoured to meet us that she gifted Rowan with a baby lamb. Upon learning that Rowan would not be permitted to bring it home on the airplane, Aicha offered to keep it safe for her, ensuring no one would eat it. Apparently the lamb has since given birth, making Rowan a wealthy woman, according to Aicha. A few weeks after visiting the village we were devastated to learn that Aicha's eldest son, age 12, had been killed when a 1000 litre water container fell on him while he was collecting water with other village children. He died in hospital after many hours voyage in the same donkey cart that overturned onto him, and an astronomical medical bill. Aicha did not think she could continue to live and bear the pain. But, she eventually rallied for the sake of her other children. Aicha had invited my to visit her again, for perhaps several months, indicating the guest hut she would set aside for me. I hope some day to return, maybe just for a week. My strength does not even come close to what these women require to live this life.

The staff of Maison Rose have welcomed my family since 2010 as if we truly are family to them. Samir worked the front desk, often over the night shift. He would always watch out for me as I headed out for early morning runs around the island. Samir invited us to his home to meet his family on several occasions. He has a lovely wife, Oumou, and five children. Two years ago Samir passed away, most likely of lung cancer. Oumou, his wife, was suddenly left with no income at all, and five children to house and feed. Samir had a good salary, and yet I regularly offered him help with his children's school fees. The middle three children were in private school, top of their classes with a keen love of learning and irrepressible hope for the future, Samir and Oumou's entire existence was focused on supporting the education of their children from the base of their tiny but happy home. When Samir's income vanished, extended family and colleagues offered some support for a time. But, as happens, the assistance soon dried up. Oumou had begun a small business selling household goods and buying large bags of coal to divide and resell, but, the most money she could earn is barely enough to pay the rent. leaving nothing for school fees or food. 

In a situation like this, which is common here, it is normal for the kids to leave school, and the family to disperse. Oumou would be expected to go and earn her way caring for someone else's family while her own children would have to be shipped off to various extended relatives, If they are lucky they would get to continue in school (not likely private school), if unlucky they would become like servants, all their shining hope for education and bright futures in the grave with Samir.

But, Oumou is no ordinary woman. In her own words, her family would be separated over her dead body. We have tried to help Oumou to keep her family together and in school, and so far she has been successful, particularly thanks to a karate friend of mind, another woman with a big heart who feels compelled to support Oumou's superhuman efforts to keep her family together and in school. The children have no idea of the precariousness of their happy and good life. I hope to set up a fundraiser online in order to help Oumou's family find a more permanent solution. Stay tuned...

On my recent visit to East Africa I finally had the opportunity to meet the amazing Naseem Makange. She runs a kindergarten preparatory school in Moshi town, at the base of Kilimanjaro. Her goal is to get kids ready to survive and thrive through the first few years of primary school where class sizes can reach 180 students (that number is not a mistake), even those who cannot afford the fees. Naseem cares for and loves her students as if they were her own. She regularly must deal with government corruption and abuse in order to help her kids succeed. While I was there she was contemplating selling jewellery she inherited from her mother in order to pay the most recent bribe. She surely would rather be retired from such conditions,  but will not abandon "her kids".

Many of the photos in this post include another strong woman who deserves to be honoured, my daughter, Rowan. Although she is not African, Rowan is currently living in Africa, in Uganda. And, through her work with the domestic abuse centre in Kampala, her friendship with and support of all the women I have mentionned, and her caring and compassionate heart, Rowan certainly understands struggle and strength.

It is not possible for me to mention every woman I have met here who has the strength to move mountains and do what is necessary to survive and thrive in challenging conditions. But, I hope I have conveyed the idea. As I have learned through karate, and more recently has been reinforced to me through Kids Kicking Cancer, strength rises to meet adversity. The more challenging the adversity, the more powerful we become. These beautiful African women, my friends, prove this every day.