Wednesday, March 13, 2019. (The morning when Andi overdosed on the malaria medicine and I pushed in half a box of carbon tablets...)
Due to the human-testing work carried out in the field (today even our local and well-trained "colleagues" fell by our side for the afternoon), we still have a lot of background work to do in the evenings, so our team works 14 hours a day, even though our domestic and Bamako helpers they work in sync with us. Today we assessed and documented the children's living conditions in another 16 families, so I will continue my rambling report. Dust and red African sand were even more intense in the air - it is impossible to take quality "landscape pictures" like this, because a gray veil covers the distant colors. Today, it was a familiar, friendly feeling to start the Sans-Fils district. It seems commonplace, but the hospitality among people living in such unimaginably difficult conditions is extremely characteristic. I feel that I will recall this infinitely touching phenomenon at home with tears in my eyes and immersed in total sentimentality every time.
When we arrived at a family, the couple's momentary surprise was immediately dispelled by the fact that we greeted them in the Bambara language: the reaction was huge smiles, a lot of laughter - and in no time they gathered and brought the chairs to us, together with the neighbors, so that we could sink down in the shade and the seriousness could begin, and a conversation often involving sensitive memories and events. It was a surprising (one could say "timeless") experience how years (at least dates of birth) do not matter here. It was a problem for several families to find out how old the child was and how many were born in the family. In many cases, neither the mother nor the father could suddenly say this. The questioning of neighboring relatives and grandparents began.
One of the fathers even asked for help by phone, but in the end a birth certificate was found. We have never seen this before! Today we learned 2 more greetings: "How is your family? (Ansongomo?) and "Have a nice/good afternoon!" (Void!). As we walked from house to house, Andi Gyurácz recognized and greeted at least one (he was very surprised) child by name on every street. Other times, he listed the houses in which of the children lived. The headmistress of the school, Mme Sissoko, whose first name is Habiba, even remarked that next time we won't even need her! In the afternoon, still going from house to house, I first thought that several children playing on the street were named Ágnes (Ányesza as they say here), and later that I was simply hallucinating. But in the end it turned out that the children who recognized me were the ones who shouted my name - they waved and greeted us enthusiastically. It was indescribably touching! Well, the custodian of the school is a tall man commanding authority, but the real "police officer" is the school's petite, good-natured, cordial, but very strict and strict headmistress. He quickly stole into my heart! Mme Sissoko seems to keep not only her 9 children, the École Cherifoula school, but also the entire Sans-Fils district in order.
His fast (French and Bambara) speech, his sharp, decisive, booming voice startle the students who are late for school several streets away - who are immediately noticed by his sharp and all-watching eyes. To be honest, we didn't dare to go against him either with "Andreeea!" and "Jim de Jager!" or "Eat!" following her exclamations... And she also takes care of us carefully, "Ágnes-Ágnes: fatigué?" he asks several times a day. At our accommodation, we work in the garden room in the evenings, we move out with the laptops - at this time the weather is more pleasant outside. I'm also getting used to my new perfume: tropical mosquito repellent (eau de toilette). The garden area and the building are surrounded by a wall several meters high, and on top of it a barbed wire net several meters high, the entrance works with a 2-gate "lock system", which is protected by guards day and night, outside and inside. Today, the guests are watching a match around us on 2 large and 1 smaller monitor: it is interesting to see so many different nationalities and uniforms - it is a very popular place among those stationed here / serving / passing through. And we love it too: after an exhausting day's work, it's good to rest here, have a good dinner, drink beer and watch a game...
Today I felt great sadness (Andi Gyurácz): upon closer inspection, it turned out that my 15-year-old daughter is expecting a baby. Last year, at the age of 14, her father took her to Guinea and married her off to someone her mother had chosen for her. It was a big wedding, and after that she moved here with her husband. He is now in the 8th grade, still a child, what will happen to him when the baby is born? Because studying with a husband and children is almost unimaginable in this country... According to Mme Sissoko, this is not a blatant case, she was also 16-17 years old when she gave birth to her first child. However, she doesn't have such a fate for her daughters: she also has two very pretty daughters who are going to university, one is studying to be a public gas operator, and the other is studying to be an English interpreter, and they have already had a rejected suitor... I know that this can happen to any of our "daughters", but it still hits you in the heart , when a pregnant child girl, for whom he hoped for a better future, confronts him...