October 3, 2019 - I wake up at midnight to a huge storm. It is raining so hard that you can't see anything and the arrow of God is flying very close, bringing the surrounding buildings into daylight. In the morning, however, I wake up to bright sunshine, I quickly write yesterday's blog and after breakfast we start the second day, which is not too demanding today. We start at the bank, again I can only withdraw money in the third. Hakuna matata, as they say in the eastern half of the continent... Being in the morning, the city is full of bayefalls and talibés in "clown clothes", barking at every corner. With the Taliban, you really don't know when you are doing good: if you give them money and thereby maintain an exploitative system, or if you don't give anything, knowing that if they don't take home the prescribed penzum, they will be punished. According to Abdou, the Koranic schools are now being attacked and they will be abolished within 4-5 years. So be it, although it is hard to imagine that a centuries-old tradition could be abolished in this way. In the end, we give them food, which is sure to stay with them, and the bayefalls get 100-200 CFA to pray for our spiritual well-being.
The morning doesn't start well, now you can see the result of the fact that I just passed out in bed yesterday. The camera dies after the first video, and I don't have a spare battery. So we fight our way back to the hotel in 45 minutes in the greatest morning frenzy, in fog-like diesel smoke. I change the battery, get back in the car and happily continue filming when this battery also indicates that it is empty. I don't dare tell Abdou that even though we wasted 1 hour, I'd rather take out the phone... which is also dead. Fortunately, I have the battery with me, so at least I will be able to take videos and photos with it.
We start the day in Oussou, arriving at the start of school. That is, we would arrive if the sewer dirt that had flowed out due to the rainwater that fell during the night did not flow like a river on the streets. In addition, the sewage is so high that it is impossible to see where a stone is sticking out, or where there is a pit in which we could get stuck. We struggle through the gate with great difficulty, and manage to get out without drowning in the sewage. The headmistress greets me like an old friend, we quickly discuss who starts first, who goes to which class, we get the lesson lists.
We agree that the certificates will be sent to me every quarter, just write a letter saying who I am. We go to the bookstore, Adama and Dieynaba are already waiting in the yard with their birth certificate, which is needed for registration. In the end, they also come with us, even the school caretaker and one of Adama's friends: there are seven of us sitting in the little Reno Scenic, so it's no wonder that we get stuck. The wheels cover everything within a 30-meter radius with faeces, Abdou cries because his wheels wear out. I don't want to tell him that nothing can wear on that mirror radial anymore... And even though he seems to be afraid of his car, his eyes don't even flinch at the cyclist coming at us from behind and knocking heavily. No one gets out, although this is understandable, who would want to be examined in half a meter of sewage. More and more volunteer air traffic controllers wave us where to go, Abdou somehow manages to get the car out, the windshield wiper diligently wipes the fog off the windshield. Let's not talk about the smell at 37 C, sometimes I discreetly gag a little.
At the bookstore, there is only a jumpable sewage stream. They collect the books and pamphlets for 2 hours, the owner is not there now, even though we became very good friends, he already wanted to write to me yesterday, but I was able to stop him. By the time we're done, he arrives and the parry fails, especially since he's going to get Senegalese-patterned pencils for tomorrow...
You are greeted by great silence at the Camara house. The neighbor died that night, and as in this case people who live close to each other in Africa, mourn together. It is strange that this house full of life, music, dance and laughter is so lifeless and without a smile. We feel that we are unnecessary: we quickly hand over the books, we talk to the children a little more: with so many wonderful things that they have received, everyone should be top of the class! They live in the same house here, help each other study. Take care of the books, because some of them are needed for 2 years, they won't get new ones next year if something happens to them. I ask who doesn't have a backpack, four people come forward. Maybe we can get it out to them with the October Trip to Africa group...
They won't let you go without lunch today either... while we eat, we watch one wife sew the pieces of the performance costume, and another sift the freshly ground cornmeal into a plastic laver. We will receive some envelopes with letters to supporters, we will return tomorrow for the rest. We say goodbye: it's 4 p.m. I remember that the Museum of African History opened last September, let's go and see it. The round building of the museum is located between the National Theater and the very nicely renovated old main railway station building, close to the Goré island ferry. And air conditioned!!!
However, the exhibition unfortunately becomes uninteresting to me after the ground floor, especially after the part of the exhibition about slavery disappeared from the 3rd floor, and the 2nd floor, except for a room about the development of African religion, is transferred to an exhibition about the life of the Chinese... of course, I know , the Chinese gave the money, they built it, but still... but the air conditioner works perfectly on the ground floor!!!
I still shop a little at the nearby store. Abdou buys a hot, concentrated ginger drink from a street vendor, full of sugar and lemon juice, it's very delicious, and he likes it even at 7:30 in the evening in the 35-degree heat. We eat another sandwich and return home to rest: starting tomorrow we will have 3 hard days at the School of Hope!