October 4, 2019 - Driving in Dakar is a nightmare. I reached the highest level of ostrich politics, even though I'm not a fearful type: I tried not to see what was running towards us, galloping towards us, crossing our path, I gave up even pedaling and just stared straight ahead, without glasses, into the video finder, so as not to see it again nor what I film.
I don't understand how we managed to avoid the horse-drawn carriages that came out of nowhere, the cars that burst out of the alleys, the sheep and goats that ran over the piles of rubble that could not be called roadways, and the directional taxis, buses, and trucks that trampled each other. Let's not even talk about the street vendors and the Taliban: during a longer wait, you will be faced with the complex selection of a supermarket: clothes, shoes, underwear, food, drinks, fruit, cleaning products, bug repellant, small pieces of furniture, you don't even have to get out, it comes to every house: " online store" African style. I think we took a child's "diaper" to Abdou ca. He stopped at 1 cm with the floor brake when the 2-year-old form ran in front of us. This was also the last straw for him, after the road leading to the School of Hope was closed for some reason and we stopped every 5 minutes on dead roads, alleys, sewage swamps, piles of bricks and searched for the right road for 1.5 hours, which turned out to be rebuilt since last year. that now, thanks to the widening, you can basically jump into the school gate from the road. Mr. Gueye, the school principal, is used to reading peacefully on a plastic chair in the diesel smoke, waiting for us at the school gate.
The first thing that stood out was that there would be no teaching here anytime soon. The entire building is being rebuilt. As it turned out, they received an inspection from the ministry and found that the building was dangerous to life. So they move back to the old school behind the building, where there are only 6 rooms, but they rent another 4 nearby to the seniors. So, after talking with the children and parents and handing over the gifts sent by the supporters, we go over to the school... which, even with the greatest goodwill, is just a pile of rubble... No water, no electricity. More precisely, there is water, because part of the walls is pure mold, the plaster is weathering, and the roof is missing in square meters of area. Of course, at least it's bright that way, since it receives the light from above. Thrown furniture everywhere, it is unimaginable that 270 children will be taught here on Monday! They just laugh at me, believe me, they start tomorrow, everything will be fine by Monday... well... we'll see!
During the conversation, it turns out that the school building was only rented last year, and the landlord is renovating it, rather slowly. When it is finished, they will move back, the pile of rubble is only a temporary solution: Knowing the pace of work in Africa, it can take a very long time, although we have already seen a miracle in Mali this spring. Their goal would be to develop this pile of ruins into a 12-classroom school with electricity and water. And benches would be needed to accommodate the children. The neighborhood is very poor, the children can only go here and often the school even pays for the children's textbooks, because the parents are so poor. They don't send anyone away just because they can't pay tuition, they wait for the payment difficulty to be resolved - Inchallah. Since its foundation (1985), 20,075 children who have completed the 6th grade and 9,281 who have completed the 7th-10th grade have attended here. class. So it would be possible to build a school here, on this approx. 300 m2 area, to make a good school. It would be a nice project... I would like volunteers to come and help build it, then beautify it... my mind starts spinning right away.
In the afternoon, we go right into the middle of it, visiting family. This surprises me, since it's Friday, everyone is in the mosque, we didn't plan it that way, but they did. So Mr. Sall, the financier, and I set off into the alleys of the slum to meet the families of the old and new beneficiaries. The first is Fatou Mboup, whose father, it turns out, belonged to a family of griots, i.e. folk storytellers, and all members of the family are griots. With all the blessings and curses of this: since they are not needed during big holidays when they are starving. Dad had already died, and mom left the 6 children with the paternal family and moved 60 km away. Fatou is very good, she even sings a song for her supporter, the family joins in, we won't be without music even today (I bought a video)! Last year, we thought Ibrahima Balde's fate couldn't get any worse, they lived off the money their grandmother begged in the market. Well, it could be worse: the grandmother has died and the blind grandfather is supported by the extended family. However, he studies so well that he passed the exam at the end of the 6th grade 1 year earlier, so the extremely smart boy who still wants to be a doctor and wants books and clothes can skip 2 years at the same time. He has never had a single book, he answers when asked, and when he learns that he will get all the textbooks, unbelievable happiness floods his sad little face and we finally see him smile! You will definitely learn!!! We also visit new children, they welcome us kindly everywhere, we even have to eat in two places...the famous Senegalese teranga, the hospitality is evident everywhere.
We finish after 6 and head home. The road is still closed, so we end up in the alley jam again. Abdou doesn't even laugh when I sometimes hiss, scream a little, shout that he's coming! it's coming! it's coming! and I squeeze water from the majrevas. We finally reach the ocean shore, a wide road. A lively life flows along the huge waves, the Senegalese, among whom sports are very popular, run, do gymnastics, play soccer, and strengthen their team. I look enviously at the people bathing in the sunset: what I wouldn't give, if only for 5 minutes, but I could catch a cold... it was 37 C today too...