Sheep Adventures

Several years ago we visited the region of M’baye Aw, in “The Bush” to see the students of the schools built to induce parents to recall their children who were forced begging talibés back to the village. We also visited our friend, Cheikh’s, home village and his family.

Cheikh’s sister, Aïssa and I immediately developed a special bond. They are a family of herders, they raise goats and sheep. We visited during the “hungry season “, before the rains, when the desert is still relatively barren and the sheep are not yet ready to be taken for sale to Daara Diollof, the nearest town many hours journey away. 

At the end of the visit, Aïssa gifted Rowan with a lamb. At first, Aïssa could not understand why Rowan could not take it with her on the airplane back to Canada. It was a female, after all, with the potential to make Rowan wealthy with more lambs. Upon understanding that it was not permitted to return the sheep to our country, she offered to take care of the sheep for Rowan for as long as necessary.

Two years later it was announced that Rowan’s sheep was now a mother, and Rowan was thus becoming a wealthy woman. Aïssa continued to faithfuly care for Rowan’s flock, shooing away teasing children, and saving them from the dinner table.

When we arrived in Saint Louis this time, after a too-long absence, Cheikh announced that Rowan now owned five sheep! The original lamb had three off-spring, and one of her girls also has had a lamb. Amazing, indeed!

Rowan and Cheikh discussed the possibility of buying one of the sheep to offer a friend for Tabaski. Cheikh was horrified, pointing out the sheep already belonged to Rowan, she could not buy one, they were hers to do with as she wished. So Rowan asked Aïssa to accept a gift to thank her for faithfully caring for the flock all this time. Happily, this was gratefully accepted. Last night the first born son of the original lamb arrived in Saint Louis. A beautiful, healthy and well-fed ram.

Now, to get the sheep to our friend’s house. Her son arrived to guide us to their house by taxi. The sheep was a huge and welcome surprise, as Tabaski is approaching and prices are out of reach. Besides, we were to learn the little lamb we had met there several years ago was still lonely and waiting for the opportunity for a mate. Cheikh said “no problem”, that sheep ride in the taxis. I had never seen or heard of such a thing, but it must be so.

Amazingly, the first taxi we hailed already had a sheep in the trunk! When a sheep-less taxi stopped, we put the sheep in the trunk for the ride across town. Upon arrival, the sheep impatiently hopped out in protest. Rowan then led it inside to present to our friends. The sheep steeled itself, refusing to advance into the house, protesting all the way. But, as soon as he saw  the lady sheep in the back of the house, his attitude changed entirely. All of a sudden he was very interested in his new home, and its inhabitants. 

After we enjoyed time with the family and a wonderful meal of Yassa, we said good-buy to the sheep, who now was once again very happy. 

A travesty Against Humanity

On this day that the U.S. Supreme Court threw woman's rights back nearly a century in the United States, I feel ready to write about this other assault upon human rights in general, and women in particular. Another form of modern slavery in Senegal. Learning about this at the same time as the terrifying SCOTUS mistake feels unbearably too much.

“My name is Sokhna. I live in the village. I am  11 years old. I am a student going to school and I live with my mother, my father and my sister. I am the first one in my family to go to school. My sister married very young. In my village parents give the girls in marriage when they are 12 years old. I am becoming afraid that I will be forced to be married and not allowed to continue going to school.”

- name and details changed to protect her identity

I have been reeling since I opened the envelope our friend handed us the night before last. stuffed full of written testimonies of young girls. Children testifying about their forced early marriages, and their fear of being forced to marry far too young and forced to end their education and dashing their hopes for the future. This was just one of them. It is too much.

Okay…I was not ready. It is now the next day. I am trying again. 

Where do I begin?

Several years ago our friend, Cheikh let us know he was trying to build a school in his village. He said he was inspired by watching us year after year helping Maison de la Gare help the talibés. Many talibés come from his village and region. There are no schools there. So parents felt their only hope of education for their children at all was to send their sons to to the city to daaras to learn the Quran. So… building a school can change things, he thought. And he started saving from his long days working as a street-corner cobbler. When we found out about it we started helping him. The first school was built. Then, this became a Maison de la Gare-associated program.  More years of savings and the villagers “bought in” and more schools were built. Then one special donor in Canada found out about it and that has enabled hiring more teachers.  

a scene on route to the village region

When we visited several years ago we saw the schools in action, met the talibés who had returned from forced begging on the streets, met the girls who were attending school for the first time ever, because now that is a possibility for them. Turns out they were all beyond hungry for it, and are the most dedicated students. Here is a version of an earlier blog post published for Maison de la Gare about the project: 

Into the Bush in Search of Education

Now, after years of a campaign to obtain documentation for the children, a lengthy process attempted one by one that enables them to write state exams, annual trips to the nearest city to write the exams are becoming normalized. This year, 65 students are writing their exams at various levels. 31 boys and 34 girls. 12 of the boys used to be forced begging talibés. This is an incredible achievement. Almost an impossible one! Hundreds of children, including girls are being educated and documented, and many dozens of talibés are being repatriated. This Senegalese, grass-roots project has sown dramatically more success for dramatically less investment of money, than any international development project I have ever read about.

But of course, each success opens another pandora’s box, and then leads to much more to do.

When my daughter Rowan researched and wrote about the forced begging talibé system, she noted the history, the various actors, and the possible levers for change. She also speculated based on observations and conversations from our trip to visit the schools the the talibé system likely contributes to the practice of early forced marriage and polygamy. When boys disappear from the villages at an early age and rarely return, and there are no schools, marrying the girls left behind to older men, multiple girls to each man, may have seemed a logical, perhaps even the only choice to the villagers. We did not really know how widespread child forced marriages were. It was just talk. But it seemed a logical conclusion to assume it happened regularly. Here is a much abbreviated version of Rowan’s report that was published for Maison de la Gare: 

Who are the Talibés and why do they Beg.

Rowan and I speculated that by building schools in the villages, not only would talibés be repatriated, but girls would also begin to study, to discover, to learn about human rights. Ideas would spread. And, there would be boys their age to marry, in equal numbers once more. Perhaps pressures for forced early polygamous marriages would eventually also diminish. Change could come for girls as well as for talibés. Schools in the villages could be the key to ending two forms of modern slavery.

With the envelope of testimonies we received this week, the theory about forced early marriages ceased to be talk. And our speculation that education would bring awareness and opportunity and could lead to change has been proven out! This feels very important. 

But, we are now in the time between awareness and opportunity, and the change to come. This is surely the hardest time. The traditions of child forced marriage remain. But the reasons for it do not, thanks to the schools built in the villages. Change is being called for, but it has not yet happened. I have no doubt that it will come. But, in the mean time the testimonies in this envelope I am holding in my hand, and the pictures of the hopeful, newly educated young faces looking as if into my eyes, what of them? 

Do we console ourselves that they are bringing the change that will benefit their daughters? While I know that to be true, it is also hard to swallow. 

It will be harder yet to wait for the change surely to come when next weekend we travel to meet the students writing exams and to the village, and the eyes we are looking into are real, and not photographs.

“My name is Aïssa. I live in the village and I am 12 years old. I am a student at the school. I live with my father and mother and my brothers. My father wants to give me in marriage but I refused, as I want to continue with my studies. I have even spoken with the old man he wants to give me to and explained I want to study at school. It will not be easy, but I am determined to fight to continue to study. I am also determined to fight against forced child marriage. But I can’t do it alone.”

- name and details changed to protect her identity

In the desert and bush regions there are camels and sheep but no schools

Saint Louis - de retourne

The sky is clear and the sun is hot. There is no sign of the violent storm we drove through last night enroute to Saint Louis. Word has spread that we have arrived and more friends have appeared to greet us. 

The pandemic has been so difficult for so many here. So many jobs lost, then later regained, but at diminished hours and wages. People understand, and belts tighten. The many who rely on tourists for their livelihoods are still waiting for things to improve. How they have found a way to make ends meet these past years is a mystery. 

As we walk through the streets, I hear my name called out many times in greeting. It seems to be well understood that we are here for the talibés, and not as tourists. 

But, there seem to be fewer people on the island than I remember. I wonder how many have left the city to return to families elsewhere, due to the high prices and lack of work. The Pont Faidherbe has far less foot traffic traffic than I remember. The city is definitely quieter. More subdued. Waiting for things to be better. Waiting for the city to wake. 

In the afternoon we make our way to Maison de la Gare. Sor is definitely busier. This is a place for locals. This is closer to what we remember. At the center a pick-up game of futbol is underway. Kalidou is teaching an english class. As Rowan and I meet with Issa and Boubacar Robbie leads a game of tag with the kids. Then he helps Lala prepare and hand out the evening meal. 

At 8pm we are surprised by a great noise. I wonder if the rain has come to Saint Louis. But no, it is a planned “symphony of Cassoroles”. it seems much of the city has come out to bang their pots tonight in protest of the President of Senegal in advance of the upcoming election. it lasts 10 minutes, then normal night sounds resume. On the way back to the island we are passed by a hoard of protesters who had been banging their pots near the government buildings, still banging and chanting. Then quiet once more.

One young man we encountered, an old friend, was excited about the protest, and showed me his identity card as evidence he could and would vote. Others shake their heads… “la politic”…It seems July 31, election day, may prove to be interesting.

We learned that one of Robbie’s karate protégés, Abdou, succeeded with his first belt grading. This was announced with so much pride. The other three will get the chance to grade next time, Insha’Allah. We cannot wait to see them and practice together at the dojo. 

The talibé karateka will come to the center for class tomorrow morning. But, we have learned, and they have yet to learn that classes tomorrow will be postponed. Instead a nationally televised presentation will take place highlighting terrible conditions in the daaras, and training for how to help improve conditions to stop the spread of disease. Karate will have to wait until Friday.

As we were were about to call it a night, a soft knock on the door. We stayed up until well past midnight talking with our friend Cheikh. He is a local cobbler who has committed himself in his own way, and in so doing has involved us and Maison de la Gare, toward ending forced begging in Senegal, of talibés from the region of his village of origin. His project has become a great success. But with every success, new stories come to light, with issues to solve. This is a big one. Too much to write about tonight. I doubt I will sleep tonight. 

We are Back

We are back. 

It has been two years and eight months, and yet it feels like we were just here. The majestic, ancient baobabs and the palms along our route, the red Sahel sand hazing the air, the many vendors along our route waiting for customers (the basket town, the meat town, the furniture town, the auto repair town, the fruit town, etc.), the horse drawn carts piled high with families and goods, the buses with people hanging on to the 

back, the seemingly equal numbers of bright traditional dresses and bou-bous, and jeans and t-shirts, the herds of zebu, it all feels so familiar.

But far less sheep were evident than usual. Tabaski is next month, and it is traditional for each family to slaughter a sheep. So, most have already been purchased. And due to the embargo on trade with Mali it seems there is a significant shortage of sheep this year. Those that are available have risen in price beyond the means of most families. Many may go without this year, unfortunately. Our driver confirms what I already know, times have been difficult since the pandemic began. Many families are struggling. But the optimistic nature I remember seems to prevail… “God is Good”, “we will find a way”.

All of our luggage packed with donated karate equipment and uniforms for the Sor-Maison de la Gare karate program arrived safe and sound. This should not surprise me, but it always does. In 22 visits we have not lost a bag. Each bag is right at our allowable weight limit.  Although this will be very much appreciated at Maison de la Gare, there is that long trip up the stairs at our hotel…

The luggage includes some very special items this time. We will be hosting a karate tournament on Canada Day at Maison de la Gare: The Douvris Cup Challenge. The medals and trophies are donated by Canadian and world champions, hoping to inspire by sharing their own hard earned medals with the winners.

We passed through a thunder storm on the way from the airport to Saint Louis. An early sign of the rainy season yet to come. But when we arrived in Saint Louis the streets were dry and the hot air was humid. As our car pulled up to la Maison Rose we were warmly welcomed by old friends. One close friend, Cheikh, had been waiting all day and night for our arrival to greet us. And our reunion with other friends was poignant, after so long apart. “C’est comme chez vous” are more than just words here.

the reason we are here