Education, am na solo

I have a Girls' club at the local middle/high school.  The girls are the recipients of the Michelle Sylvester Scholarship, a program organized by Peace Corps to provide inscription fees and some school supplies for high-achieving, motivated girls whose families lack the means to pay for her education.  The goal is to encourage them to continue their education and to show the families the importance of learning.  I have extended the scholarship program from merely a disbursement of materials to a weekly program.  Last year, it consisted of 9 girls, and this year it has doubled in size from the additional scholarship girls.

Towards the end of last year, I asked the girls to write poems about the importance of education.  This blogpost is devoted to the youth in Senegal who strive to learn despite numerous roadblocks.  I have included their poems below.  They had never read or written a poem before, but the message they express is very powerful.  They wrote them in French, so I have included the original French version, followed by a translation.  (I merely plugged the document into Google Translate, so I apologize for any glaring translation errors.)  Education, am na solo.  (Education is important.)

J’ai un rêve par Rokhy Ba

J’ai un rêve qu’un jour, tous les femmes deviennent les meilleurs que les hommes sur l’éducation.

Je voudrai qu’elles aient un jour les meilleurs place que les hommes sur l’éducation.

J’ai un rêve.

J’ai un rêve qu’un jour les femmes blanches et les femmes noires soient dans les mêmes pieds d’égalité.

J’ai un rêve.

J’ai un rêve qu’un jour tous les enfants des pauvres et des riches soient égaux.

J’ai un rêve.

J’ai un rêve qu’un jour tout les femmes et les enfants répètent : la liberté, la liberté, la liberté.

OH mon dieu, nous sommes libre.

L’éducation sur un Élève par Souadou Cisse

L’éducation sur un élève, il lui permet d’avoir tous ceux qu’il veut dans le monde.

Dès fois, les gens dites : « Travaille plus discipline égale réussir ».

L’élève qui avoir de l’éducation, il permet que ces professeurs lui respectent de même que les autres élèves.

Si un élève a un éducation, il peut-être n’importe quelle école, CEM ou lycée et il peut être n’importe où

C’est pour cela avoir une éducation est bonne

L’éducation pour fille ou garçon ou autre par Awa Ndiaye

Pour l’éducation.  Il faut être d’aller a l’école jusqu'à l’université pour avoir du bon travaille.

Il faut être apprendre.

Pour les voyage, ou bien pour lire ou écris.

Si vous n’avez pas apprendre, il y a des gens qui ne peut pas donnée du respect.

Comme tu n’a pas de travaille

Respect son travaille.

Pour apprendre jusqu'à l’université.

C’était pour qui puis comprend.

Et guide les personnes.

Pourquoi l’éducation est bonne

Parce que tu vas dans un autre pays tu peut être là.  Ou bien si veux lire une lettre.

Adama Mendy

L’éducation est bonne

Elle nous fait connaitre beaucoup de chose

Elle nous renseigne dans le monde ou nous sommes

L’éducation est bonne, l’éducation est bonne

Car il nous guide

Elle nous montre le chemin

J’aime l’éducation

Je l’aime de tout mon cœur

Et je l’adore

L’éducation est bonne, elle est bonne, bonne, bonne,

Grâce a l’éducation

Je peux lire et écrire

J’aime l’éducation, j’aime l’éducation, j’aime l’éducation

Je ne savais rien en naissant

Maintenant je connais beaucoup

J’aime l’éducation

L’éducation même

Je consacre toute ma vie sur l’éducation

J’aime mon école.par Lena Thioye

            Ho mon école !

                        Ho mon bon endroit !

                                    Toi qui m’a appris comment étudier

Chers parents

            Ho parents

                        Je me vous demande rien

                                    Que de faire attention

                                                Aux études de vos enfants

L’école nous a appris comment :

Lire,

            Comment écrire.

                        Elle nous a donnée.

                                    Une bonne étude de base

Donnez nous le temps.

            S’il te plaît !

                        D’apprendre jusqu'à

                                    L’université !

Pour avoir un bon travail

            Un travail fort

Arrêtez le mariage precours.

            Le mariage force.

                        Ho quel tardement

                                    Quelle coupure d’étude

Que vous faites vos filles

            Ca ne vous donne pas de rendement

                        Ni de récolte

                                    Ho laissez les filles

                                                Etudiaient

                                                            Apprendre.

Pour demain.

            Qu’elles seraient quelqu’une

                        Pour vous aidez

                                    Regrettez la maltraité

                                                Aidez nos familles

                                                            S’il te plaît !

I have a dream by Rokhy Ba

I have a dream that one day all women become the best men on education.

I would like one day they have the best place men on education.

I have a dream .

I have a dream that one day white women and black women are the same feet of equality.

I have a dream .

I have a dream that all children rich and poor are equal day.

I have a dream .

I have a dream that one day all the women and children repeat : freedom , freedom , freedom .

Oh my god, we are free .

Education on Student by Souadou Cisse

Education on a student , it allows him to have anyone he wants in the world.

Once again, people say: "Work more discipline equal success."

Students who have education, it allows these teachers respect him as well as other students.

If a student has an education , it can be any school , college or EMC and it can be anywhere

That is why having a good education is

Education for girl or boy or another by Awa Ndiaye

For education. It should be going to school to university to have a good working .

Must be learned.

For travel , or to read or write.

If you do not learn , there are people who can not given respect.

Since you do not have a working

Respect his works .

To learn to university.

It was then that to understand.

And guide people .

Why education is good

Because you go to another country you can be there. Or if want to read a letter.

Adama Mendy

Education is good

It makes us know a lot of thing

She tells us in the world where we are

Education is good , education is good

Because it guides us

It shows us the way

I love education

I love with all my heart

And I love it

Education is good, it is good, good, good,

Thanks to education

I can read and write

I love education , I love education , I love education

I knew nothing at birth

Now I know many

I love education

The same education

I spend my whole life on Education

I love my school by Lena Thioye

Ho my school !

Ho my right place!

You taught me how to study

Dear Parents

Ho Parents

I ask you nothing

What to watch

For your children's education

The school taught us how :

read

How to write .

It has given us.

A good baseline

Give us time .

Please!

To learn to

University !

To get a good job

A strong work

Stop preschool marriage.

Forced marriage .

Ho what tardement

What cut study

You do your daughters

It does not give you performance

Or harvest

Ho let the girls

were studying

Learn.

For tomorrow.

They would some one

To help you

Regret the abused

Help our families

Please!

Senegal, sama reo, dafa neex

Senegal is known to be a country of hospitality, and this is something I’ve certainly witnessed during my time in Senegal.  This blog post is dedicated to all those wonderful men, women, and children who help to make Senegal such a welcoming and peaceful country.

A few months ago, I had some time between a meeting at the school and a meeting with a women’s group.  I was hungry and had some paperwork I wanted to fill out, so I bought a mango and found a shady place to sit.  I sat down on a brick and began devouring my mango, planning out an upcoming activity as I ate.  Soon, a group of children approached me and stood around, watching and laughing at me.  I didn’t mind; the mango was delicious.  But a man passing by saw this group of children and told them to continue on their way and to leave me alone.  I finished my mango, washed my hands with some of my water, and took out my notebook.  As I was pulling it out, a woman came out of a nearby compound.  She’d heard the children and came to investigate for herself.  She began to ask me lots of questions: What’s your name?  Where are you from?  Where do you live?  Who’s your father?  Who’s your mother?  Do you go to the fields?  Where’s your husband?  Can you cook?  Do you do your own laundry?  What are you doing?  What are you writing?  I was concentrating on what I was writing, so I gave her very short answers.  She’d ask me  string of questions, fall silent for a bit, and then launch into some more.  I was beginning to get a bit annoyed by her, but finally it was time for my next meeting.  I packed up my bag and told the woman I was leaving.  She urged me to stay for lunch (it was only 11:00 – lunch is not until at least 2:00).  When I declined, she told me to have a good day and said she’d return to her house now since she had only come outside to keep me company, so that I wouldn’t be lonely.  I hadn’t realized she was trying to help me.

People are equally generous on public transportation.  Passengers sit with other passenger’s children on their laps for hours.  Young men willingly give up their seat to older people or me, and inside stand outside the car, hanging on or sit on the roof.  Two weeks ago, the car I was in stalled.  Three men got out of the car to help check out the engine and then helped push the car for a few minutes so that the speed would help the car start.  Today, when a boy vomited in the car, a woman gave up her kerchief to another man who wiped the mouth of the boy while his mother held her other child on her lap.  Last week, a woman needed to stop to go to the bathroom.  She passed her baby to another passenger, got out of the car, went into the market, and then took her baby back when she returned.

One morning during rainy season, I was walking to the weekly market.  All of a sudden, it began to pour.  I ran into the nearest compound.  The woman offered me a seat and insisted on buying me a bean sandwich and coffee for breakfast.  I sat there for three hours while I waited for the rain to stop.  I have stopped at many compounds, greeted the family, and asked for water.  If I pass a compound around lunch time, they offer for me to stay and eat lunch.  If it is late in the evening, they offer for me to stay the night.  If I pass a compound while they’re drinking tea or snacking on peanuts, I’m instantly offered some.  Once, I had to go to the bathroom while I was in public transportation.  I asked the driver to stop so that I could go in the bushes.  The driver insisted on continuing just a bit further to where a compound was located.  I walked into the compound, greeted them, and asked where the bathroom was located.  I was given a pot of water and pointed to the room; they didn’t ask me any questions.

I can think of so many examples of Senegalese sharing food and drink, even when they can barely afford to feed themselves.  Or of Senegalese giving up their beds and rooms so that a guest can be properly hosted while they sleep on the floor in another room.  No matter where they are, they try to help everyone around them.  They may do so with lots of teasing and raised voices, but it is all well-intentioned.  A popular Senegalese song sings about returning to Senegal and asking a ship captain to return her to her native country; all Senegalese feel pride in how well they treat their guests and each other.  As the song says, “Senegal, sama reo, dafa neex.”  (Senegal, my country, is nice.)

Doo xar ane?

Yesterday morning, I decided to visit a village about an hour bike ride from me.  I had worked with this village to teach them how to successfully create and maintain a vegetable garden; a local NGO had given them the money to build a fence and purchase materials but had neglected the important fact of training the women in the necessary skills.  Last year, I visited them about twice a month to provide advice and check on the garden’s status.  However, since the rainy season began in early July I have not been back for two reasons: the dirt paths have large holes that are often filled with water making biking very difficult and the women are all in their fields working rather than in the garden or at their homes.  I’ve seen some of the women at the weekly market or in town, and they’ve asked when I’ll come visit them again.  I decided that it was finally time for me to return.

The cold season has begun, so nights and mornings have become chilly.  So I pulled myself out of my sleeping bag, went to fetch water to shower (the water left in the bucket overnight is too cold to shower with in the morning, and I prefer the warmer water from the tap – my host family boils water to mix in with the tap water so that it’ll be even warmer to shower with), and left my village around 8.  After a stop at my favorite bean sandwich lady in the nearby town for a delicious breakfast of beans on bread with a cup of quinquilliba coffee (not sure why it’s called coffee-it’s actually a leaf tea, and I get it mixed with milk, so it’s a delicious way to start the day), I headed down the dirt path to the village.  I love this bike ride because the paths are not well traveled so I can get lost in my thoughts as I go.  I have to pass through one village on the way (a Pulaar-speaking village), and they all called to me by name as they see me and commented that it’s been awhile.  I was nearly at my destination when I saw a group of women heading toward me on the path.  I realized they’re from the village I’m going to, but they were all headed to the field to harvest their peanuts.  I’d thought by getting my early start and arriving before 9:30, I’d be able to catch them before they left; then my main friend in the village would have remained with me for the day rather than heading to her field.  They informed me that she’d already left, and there were no women in the village.  Nonplussed, I continued into the village, greeted the men, left an oral message to greet my friend, and decided to continue further into the bush.

I’ve wanted to venture to these further villages for a while but never had the opportunity.  With no work to do in this village, I was excited to be able to explore and to roam around on my bike.  I asked for directions to a nearby large village and headed down that path.  Somehow, I must have missed a turn (there are lots of side trails off the main trails that villagers use to head to their fields), and I ended up on a narrow, very bumpy trail that is closed-in tightly by weeds.  I was enjoying the adventure though and continued until I saw a women working with her children in the fields.  I called to her and inquired about the village.  She instructed me to cut across a few fields (requiring me to walk my bike since the fields have heavily grooved in neat lines), and I soon met up with the main path.  I crossed through a small village and nearly an hour after I left my friend’s village, I entered this large village.  Here, too, all the women were in the field, and I stopped to speak to a group of men.  I asked them what village lay beyond theirs and inquired about the path.  I then continued to this next village.  When I arrived there, I stopped to speak to a group of men under a tree.  I asked them where the next village was, but they laughed.  I could take the path to my left, which would lead me into Gambia, or I could continue straight for a very short bit before I’d hit water.  This area has an extremely high water table at just 1.5 meters.  This encloses them from other Senegalese villages, but it allows them easy access to water for gardening; in the dry season, they have huge plots of onions, potatoes, sweet potatoes, cassava, tomatoes, etc. that they sell at the Senegalese weekly markets but also as far away as Banjul.  They also have access to fresh fish as a result, which I’m reminded of as a donkey cart piled high with fish passes by.  I stand and talk with these men for awhile.  They asked about where I live, and then they inquired about friends and family who live in my village.  My village is just 400 people, yet several people knew members of my community.  We talked about my work, their village, and the harvest.  After awhile, I decided it’s time to head back.  Doo xar ane?  (You won't wait for lunch?)  They insisted that I should wait for lunch or at least until the women returned so that I could speak with them (and also for me to return and lead health lessons in their village), but I had my girls’ club in the afternoon and was a 2-hour bike ride from home.  I declined their offer and continued home.

I passed through the large village again, and the men inquired about my visit to the other village and also insist that I stay for lunch.  I declined again and continue on my way.  I decided to take a different path back to town to see new places.  It was hot by this point, and my water bottle was nearly empty.  The landscape was beautiful, and I enjoyed how spaced out the villages are, but my mouth was parched.  I was very happy when I passed through another village.  I stopped at a compound, greeted the woman, and asked for water.  She brought me out a full liter cup, and I stood there, gulping it down.  Meanwhile, other people in her house returned from the fields, and they all greeted me; no one as surprised at my presence in their compound drinking water.  I returned the now-empty cup to her, and she asked if I had a water bottle that she could fill.  I happily handed mine over.  She insisted that I should wait for lunch.  I thanked her, declined the offer, and continued on my way.  Finally, I reached the town and then continued to my village.  It was now 2:00, and I had arrived just in time for my first of the two lunches I always eat.  I was exhausted after having ridden my bike for nearly 5 hours, much of it through very sandy areas (and some parts so sandy I had had to walk my bike as I trudged through), but it was a great adventure.  It reminded me of how generous and welcoming Senegalese people are.

Men nana niibi tey?

On Sunday at 11:10 am, my host son was born.  Technically, he’s my nephew, but in Senegal, your father’s brothers are called your father and their children are your siblings and their children’s children are your children.  He won’t be  named until the baptism this coming Sunday, but for the moment, he has the generic name of Nene (applied to any newborn, male or female) Thiam.

I was at the weekly market when he was born.  That morning, I had opened my door to my host mom asking if I would be going into town that day; only when I had denied the fact did she tell me that Thiam Thiam had left at the 5 am morning prayer to go to the maternity clinic.  But I still had to go to the market to buy vegetables for myself and my host family for the week as well as to work my table teaching people about moringa.  When the number of people approaching me about moringa started to die down around 3, I quickly packed my bag before more arrived, brought the table over to a nearby compound where I store it each week, and began the 5 km walk to the maternity clinic.  Thiam’s mom was still at the market selling squash, but my host mom had finished selling her sweet potato and had already left.

I arrived at the maternity clinic to find Thiam’s grandmother and my host sister Binetou.  Thiam’s grandmother had accompanied her to the clinic this morning since my host mom and her mom were both at the louma selling.  In Senegal, all responsibility should fall to the mother-in-law, so my host mom was supposed to be there.  Luckily, her grandmother had agreed to assist.  (And they’re all related anyway.  She is married to my host dad’s brother, but my host dad’s father’s co-wife’s son is her dad.)  It was now 4, but they hadn’t been allowed in to see Thiam since they’d arrived that morning.  In Senegal, women who give birth at health facilities do it alone.  No family is allowed in the room, no one talks to the women, and no help is provided.  She just lies on a bed, takes hold of the bedframe if she needs to, and has her baby.  I was told later that Thiam is a strong woman because she did not make any noise while giving birth.

I joined them in sitting under the shade structure to wait.  Soon, my host mom arrived with my host dad, host brother, and Thiam’s 2-year old son Samba.  He missed his mom already, and I made it my responsibility to entertain him as we were waiting.  Suddenly, he caught sight of his mom through a window and couldn’t stop calling her name and laughing.  Shortly after, we were allowed in to see her.  She was lying on the bed with her son wrapped up in pieces of fabric.  I sat with her awhile.  My host mom had brought lunch, and we all sat down around the bowl to eat.  Later, when everyone went to leave, Thiam looked at me and asked if I was leaving too.  I said I could stay if she wanted, and so I remained there with her and my host mom.  I sat with her for a bit, and then I went outside to the shade structure with my mom.  It was getting dark, and I assumed we’d be spending the night there, so I spread out my tablecloth from my market stand and lay down.  I pulled out a carrot I’d bought at the louma and split it in half for dinner with my host mom.  I didn’t mind at all, but as soon as I got comfortable, one of the nurses came over and saw me.  She started laughing really hard.  Apparently, only mother-in-laws ever stay over (just the one person) and they always take one of the empty beds in the room if available or else share a bed with the new mother.  Never do they pass the night outside.  I was given a bed inside next to Thiam and then was called to eat dinner with the midwife’s family and other nurses.

The next morning, we were switched to a room in another building.  We stayed there all day, waiting to be told we could leave.  I helped Thiam understand her medicines: iron and paracetemol for herself, amoycillin and paracetemol for the baby.  Later, she was also given hemorrhaging meds and amoxicillin.  I explained the purpose of each medicine, since the nurses only instruct in when to take the meds and how much, but not what they do.  That morning, my host brother stopped by on his way to the high school.  Later, Thiam’s mom stopped by with two other women from my village to see the baby.  In the afternoon, my host aunt, host brother, host sister, and Samba stopped by to see Thiam.  They came on a donkey cart expecting to bring Thiam home, but she wasn’t released yet.  The baby had been large, and they’d made a cut to get him out.  The cut wasn’t healing well, and they wanted to keep her in the hospital to monitor it and ensure that she was keeping clean.

We stayed in the hospital for 4 nights; I never left.  I’m glad that I was able to be there for her.  My host mom’s job was to do laundry, and she was constantly washing Thiam’s skirts and the baby’s wrappings (since they don’t use diapers here).  I was also able to ensure that Thiam ate breakfast by buying her a bean sandwich and coffee every morning.  My host sister works as a maid in the town, so she’d bring lunch over every day around 4 and then the donkey cart would arrive with the rest of my host family later.  They’d bring lunch, which we’d save for dinner.  I also ate a second lunch and dinner with the midwife’s family and spent some time hanging out with her children who are my age and educated, which was nice.  Every day passed pretty much the same.  We’d wake up in the morning, Thiam’s mom would visit briefly either alone or with other women from the village and my host brother would stop by on his way home from school, but otherwise it was really quiet.  Then it’d get really loud for the hour that my host family all came to visit.  And then they’d leave, and it’d be quiet again except for our conversation and that of (and with) other women in the room; we shared a room with 1-2 other new moms and their mother-in-laws.  I kept Thiam entertained by telling stories, crocheting a hat for the baby, making paper snowflakes with her, and just being goofy.  She really appreciated that I was there.  It was fun to be able to see how the maternity clinic truly functions on a 24-hour basis since I’ve only seen it in the morning.  The midwife and nurses work so hard; they’re often there until 9 pm treating patients and then may be up all night assisting with births.  But every day, I would walk into the midwife’s office and say, Men nana niibi tey? (Can we go home today?)  All three of us were anxious to get back to the village, to be with the rest of my host family, to drink Senegalese tea, and be outside instead of stuck inside (though the room was well ventilated compared to American hospitals).

Anglais rekk!

“It’s hot, de”

I just completed a week of English Access Camp, a program run by the US Embassy for students aged 15-17.  I worked with 2 other volunteers and 4 English teachers to organize the camp in Tambacounda for 57 students, both boys and girls.  It was an amazing experience.

I was very impressed by the level of these students’ English.  All schools in Senegal require English classes beginning in 6^th grade.  From what I have seen in my village and at the local high school, they are not absorbing much of this language; just learning French, the national language and language of the classroom, is difficult enough for them.  However, I was blown away by the talent of the Tambacounda students.  Each of the 4 teachers had chosen several students to attend the camp and ability certainly ranged a scale, but we were able to successfully conduct all activities and discussions in English, as well as require the kids to continually speak just English.  Anglais rekk! (English only!)

We had a wide variety of activities for the students.  Each morning, we’d begin the day with an icebreaker or game.  My favorite was watching the students participate in a 3-legged relay race; they’d never done anything of this sort before, and they loved it.  Several groups fell on the ground as they hopped down the field, and a few groups figured out how to run as a team.  Another day, we played silent birthday line-up; this activity ended with a girl asking the point of the game, and we gave an explanation of the importance of teamwork (since that activity did not require any English speaking).  Another daily activity was teaching them English songs.  I taught them “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes,” “Have You Ever Seen a Penguin Come to Tea,” “I’m a Little Tea Pot,” and “Old McDonald.”  We had a contest of who could sing “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” loudest, and it was hilarious to watch the kids hopping around to “Penguin Come to Tea.”  On the last day, during the final song session, the kids chanted for us to dance Senegalese-style.  After appeasing them briefly, we taught them Macarena and the Chicken Dance.  The three of us were standing on a bench to teach them these dances and were very visible to people walking down the street; we got quite a cheering from outside the school as a result.

The main part of each day consisted of small groups of about 10 students, which allowed the students time to practice their English.  We played games such as 20 questions, identify the person/place taped to your back through questions only, and team builders such as Human knot, as well as held discussions.  The most interesting session involved a line-spectrum debate.  I’d read a statement, and they’d have to group themselves into “agree completely,” “somewhat agree,” “somewhat disagree,” and “disagree.”  Each person then had to justify his/her response.  Some statements were simple and there was unanimity: “Boys and girls should both go to school,” “Children should go to school until graduating from high school and then continue to university,” and “Men should not beat their wives.”  It became more interesting with controversial topics such as “It is possible to overcome the corruption in Senegal” and “Senegal can become a developed country.”  For those statements, the students explained (in English) the problems in Senegal, which included officials pocketing money, development only occurring for cities, friends and family expected to be hired for official positions (and offended if not chosen), many unqualified teachers, and numerous other reasons that were very well articulated and do represent the political climate in Senegal.  I was happy to see that the majority of students were more optimistic and thought these obstacles possible to overcome through education, sensitization, laws, and law enforcement.

We also had sessions involving the entire group.  A trivia game was particularly popular among the students.  They had a larger amount of world knowledge than I had expected, though they were all convinced that the United States has 52 states.  (Apparently, this information is in their textbooks.)  Another day, we had an American culture question and answer session.  They each wrote down a question on a piece of paper, and we responded to as many as possible.  There were the normal questions of “What is education like in America,” “At what age do people get married in the United States,” and “What’s your national dish.”  Some more interesting questions were “How do people vote in elections,” “Why do you run English Access Camps,” and “Why do Americans want to become the best in the world and spread their culture everywhere?”  That last questions was particularly intriguing to me, and we asked the students to determine answers within their groups.  Every student agreed with the statement and thought Americans want to convert everyone to be like them; we then tried to explain why Americans think development is important, and I shared my (somewhat idealistic) opinion that the purpose is not to defeat cultures, but merely to help.

Our final activity consisted of a performance.  Each group had written a skit during the week, without any help from us.  The skits were amazing.  One group presented on the importance of protecting the environment by not throwing trash on the ground or cutting down trees.  Another presented on the problem of student-teacher relationships and how it could lead to child pregnancies and teachers being fired.  A third group presented on the problems of students dropping out of school early because their parents can’t pay for their school supplies.  The final group presented on talibe (children who are sent to study the Kora,n, but are often beaten by their teachers and must beg on the street for food and money) and how people should give them the opportunity to improve their lives instead of treating them poorly.  They hit on such key points and issues within Senegal and provided idealistic solutions that I hope they continue to follow when they’re adults.  These skits strengthened my faith in the education system and its ability to create leaders who understand and are determined to achieve solutions.

We had a large budget for this camp, so I determined that rather than throwing an elaborate party at the end, we should buy school supplies for the students (though we still did give them delicious fatayas – fried dough stuffed with mashed fish and onion sauce cooked by one of the teacher’s sisters).  Each student was provided with a large notebook, small notebook, red pen, blue pen, eraser, highlighter, and school supply packaged set (consisting of a protractor, ruler, pencil, colored pencils, eraser, and pencil sharpener).  The kids were overjoyed at receiving such items; now they can begin the school year with their supplies, rather than waiting until a few months in to purchase them.  (Many students spend the first few months without even a notebook until their parents find the money to buy them the supplies.)

The camp was a great opportunity for me, the students, and the teachers.  It was an amazing chance for them to practice their English every day for 4 hours.  At the end of each day, they didn’t want to go home and would often stay late to practice their skits (leaving only because they had required house chores to complete before lunch).  I was astounded at their ability to express themselves and also to help their friends to express themselves; they were very understanding of each individual’s different comprehension level and prepared to encourage each other to speak or explain a person’s intentions.  The fact that these children could defend societal issues, tell traditional Wolof stories, write engaging skits, and play complicated games in English attests to their individual drive and motivation in succeeding.  Passing school is not a guarantee here, but these students are certainly on their way to attain it.