Friday, March 15, 2019 The day when the name "Ániessz" stuck with me forever. (This morning, Andi and Jim were already yelling at me across the school yard...)
Fortunately for us, the promised 50 degrees has eluded us so far, but it is getting hotter every day, the temperature has slowly climbed from the initial 35 to 39 °C. By now, our exhaustion had reached its peak (which was only increased by the constant worry about the trucks being late). This had two consequences. One of them is that, due to self-control loosened from fatigue, we squealed and cried with our local helpers (including the headmistress and her daughter) during several car journeys during the day, often not even knowing what we were laughing at. And the other is that I need a lot of concentration now to be able to recall all of today's events. To intersperse the humorous scenes, the charming little language lessons, and the thorough explanation of the precise details, I will hand over the keyboard to Andi today, as before. Behind the fast-changing events of the day, the exhausting task of taking measures and organizing the trucks, which Jim coordinated with literally half the world and most of Mali, was constantly dragging on in the background. The main reason for the excitement was that the trucks had been standing since yesterday afternoon in the 8 km no-man's land between the border of Mauritania and Mali, and someone who went to help us, a Vincés Láng, shouted "I'll be here in an hour" with all the original papers he disappeared and was never seen again that night.
In the morning, we met a Hungarian who has lived here for 10 years, who said that if they don't come out of the zone this morning, we should forget about it, because today is a day of prayer, and that's why no one is working. And they kept reassuring us, often saying "Insallah" (meaning as Allah wills), so that we don't worry, everything will be fine, the "lassepasse" that is needed for them to come through like a knife through the Malian border and the country already prepare. We started the day in such a mood. We immediately started with an unscheduled and unexpected visit: from the school we visited the Bozola district directorate of the Ministry of Education. (Here I was introduced as "Ányessz" without thinking...) We introduced the Foundation's work (they listened with great interest and appreciation), showed our website and discussed some old and current problems related to the education system. The ongoing teachers' strikes in public schools due to low pay and the problem of missing birth certificates were discussed, since a child who does not have one cannot go to school. I was able to ask questions about the school system - I made good use of the short stories appearing in the Newsletter - in fact, when I told about the Senegalese system, Mme Traore, the headmistress, took diligent notes. The ministry's assistant, who gave the impression of a "Bedouin", and Jim quickly found each other, when during the exchange of contacts, the gentleman's mobile buzzed with the music of Star Wars with each button press. Despite the weight and seriousness of the problems raised, we managed to agree, we left in a great mood, laughing, and taking photos together. Returning to the school (where we were entertained again with mutton stew), the organization continued on several lines with the headmistress, the custodian and the teachers. The reason for this is that the "international situation kept getting worse" regarding the trucks, so A, B, C, D (...) plans were created for the duration and implementation of each program - we could hardly follow it.
That's why we didn't rest during lunch either, because we asked the fate of all our old students, why they were studying poorly, and what happened to whom. Of course, there were those who turned out not to want to study, there were also those whose mother left the family and his results worsened because he was a bit mentally disturbed, and about my supported son, after 5 years, he is also a Christian! And about one of our high schools, that she had a child last year, but the father, who was not married, took the child with him, so he can continue school.
Diokunda, who was found in a poor little garbage heap, is expected to have big problems, because the old lady who took him in and raises him with loving care wants to leave the house in which the family lives to him, so the whole family hates him... he's only 9 years old.. .what will happen to him if his "mommy" dies? We opened the first aid kit, because one of the children got a huge cut on his thigh, we treated it temporarily and sent him to the hospital to be stitched up, because the wound was so open...
After the rest, gathering our remaining strength, we set out to visit the last 10 families at 39 degrees, where we assessed the living conditions of the very small children, who will start school next year, and took photos of them for their future supporters. We finished very late, it was already dark by the time we got back to school. The small crowd was beautiful, they were sweet, they sang, danced, recited or just shyly curled up on the small number of chairs. But there were those who already knew that they wanted a car or a motorbike and wanted to be a "tuvab", i.e. a white man and a minister.
Today was Friday, "prayer day". On the other days, the headmistress performed her ceremony around us on her prayer mat during our "lunch break", but today we also saw the teachers on the prayer mat laid out in the school yard. It was a very special and captivating experience for me! (By the way, I give them all the credit for coming to school clean, "freshly ironed" and nicely dressed every day even in these conditions. I can't even imagine how this can be done every single day without running water in a place where there is water from the ceiling everything is covered in dust, red African sand up to the floor, and the eyes are rolling in the streets. Hats off to them!) In the early afternoon we received great news: the trucks were finally allowed to cross the border to Mali - they are expected to arrive here tomorrow afternoon! We are indescribably relieved: I think we can sleep peacefully today - and Andi is finally not dreaming about trucks either! And I pass out under the mosquito net (it's already well past midnight, and we have to be in the field by 8:30 tomorrow morning). The degree of fatigue is characterized by the fact that I found Andi asleep on the floor in the room, his head on the notebook bag, he was uploading pictures to the computer... and the phone with the messages was flashing under his stomach. He didn't even wake up when I came into the room...