Last week Julie and I visited another Talibé center. This one was not as close to our homes as the one I’ve mentioned before. It’s in a much poorer part of town, and the drive there took us on a maze of heavily pot-holed roads. The woman who started this center, back in October, is the only American working there. In addition to our friend (I’ll call her “Dee,” for her privacy), there is a Senegalese man who teaches the stories, and a Senegalese woman who works in the kitchen and helps with the cleaning and laundry.
The first thing the boys did as they arrived was wash their hands, then they searched through a big pile of toothbrushes for the one with their name. Dee told us she would eventually love to have cubbies for the boys, a place where each child could keep their things. But for now, they make do with just a bucket for all the toothbrushes. After brushing their teeth, they came into the main courtyard to work on Wednesday’s task – learning to form letters. Each day of the week there is a different thing to do. On Mondays, they hear the new Bible story for the week. A few days a week they play sports. Julie and I happened to be there on Wednesday, the day Dee works on literacy.
Each of the boys received a hand out on the letter “k,” and a sheet of lined paper to practice on. Julie and I got down on the mat with them to help them with their papers. It was obvious that they enjoyed the task immensely. They traced a large “K” several times, and then the small “k” several times, then moved on to the blank sheet and filled it with letters. Finally they could color in the picture on the hand out, and choose a sticker from her selection to add to the top of their page. When the papers were complete, the boys handed them in to Dee, and she hung them up on the wall.
It was clear that many of these boys have never even held pencils before. Some of them had a hard time holding the pencil and making it do what they wanted it to. Even after tracing the letters, some had difficulty making the same form on their blank sheets. But with every boy I was able to work with, it was the same – with each stroke they made, they would look up with a smile – “I did it!” It was heart breaking, really, to see how much our small gestures of approval seemed to mean to them. They are Wolof boys, and don’t speak French, but we smiled, gave them a thumbs up, nodded – anything we could to show them we thought they were doing a great job.
Julie asked one boy how old he was, and we were saddened by his answer – “I don’t know.” The Senegalese worker was walking by at that moment and heard the exchange, and told Julie, “They don’t know their ages.” Just hearing that made me think about the fuss we make about our own kids’ birthdays, as they hit each new age. They love moving up to the next year. Even very young children do that “I’m three and three-quarters” thing. I wonder what not knowing your age does to your sense of identity. Maybe it’s not as big a deal as it seems – maybe there are cultural differences at play here. But it struck me as sad.
Another impression I had during the course of the morning was that the boys were content to finish their work and then just hang out without not being given another “task” to do. I’m so used to American children – it’s usually not a good idea to give a large group of young children a large amount of unstructured time! This was a group of around 40 boys, and they were there about two hours before we started with lunch. Finishing their letter work took anywhere from ten to thirty minutes. But when they were done, they just found things to do. They would help other boys who might have just arrived and didn’t know the ropes, they played in the sand in the yard, they played a dominoes game Dee has available for them, and they sat and talked with each other. Many of them took showers. (There are designated shower days, but Dee told us that the previous shower day, there were a lot of kids that didn’t get a turn, so she let them take their turn today.) It was a busy place, but it wasn’t chaotic.
When it was time for lunch, I was able to help out in the kitchen. I cut baguettes into four sections, and spread a kind of fish paté on each one. The fish spread was in a small bowl – I wondered how in the world we were going to make it last for the 48 sandwiches we were making! Dee told me to spread it really thin – just to give them a taste. They do a fish sandwich a few days a week, and the other days they use a chocolate spread, much like Nutella, if you’re familiar with that. The Senegalese woman made a huge vat of steaming milk with lots of sugar in it, and spooned it into mugs. The boys lined up at the counter and got their milk. The Senegalese man asked a blessing on the meal, and Julie and I went out into the courtyard and handed out the sandwiches. Dee told us that this is likely the only food the boys will eat for the day. They are not provided with food where they live. Some will be lucky enough to be given something they can eat as they are out begging on the streets.
When lunch was over, we handed out chewable multivitamins. Dee then took care of several boys who had cuts that needed to be cleaned and bandaged. And then it was time for the boys to leave. The center is open only during the morning, because the boys have to get out on the streets by noon or before. They have to have the time to beg for their daily quota of coins, rice, and sugar.
Julie and I both felt very encouraged by our morning at the center. We felt like there really was something useful we could do, even now, before we know the language the boys speak. My Wolof classes begin next week, and I won’t have more than one morning a week free right now to help out at the Center, but eventually I will be able to do more. Please pray for these young boys, and for us, as we hope to serve them.
Please pray for Will as he continues to learn, that he would stay safe, and not get in any accidents.