Serdipitous Senegal

I don’t really know why or how it happens, but I have the serendipitous fortune of meeting interesting people in the most random situations. For example, there was Marga of the sex trade at the restaurant, Diallo a courtier for development who works with USAID on the sidewalk, and this past week it was Salete, a Brazilian Baptist, ex-missionary current NGO worker, on a Ndiage Ndiaye. Getting into the car with Alec, we moved to fill up the seats, and somehow I ended up sitting next to the only other toubab on the buss. I would say there is about a 1% chance to find a toubab on a car, and even less a chance of actually being next to them. Out of pure curiosity, I struck up a conversation. Skip forward to Friday where Alec and I went along with Salete and her Brazilian -Baptist missionary-medical student friend Carmena to the Village of M’Bissou where she helps the local Case de Santé each and every Friday, has a football school with her husband, and aids the village by connecting them to different organizations. Upon arrival, we split up so that Alec and I could get a tour of the village from one of the citizens while Salete and Carmena went strait to work at the Case.

First we visited a school that was started by Madame Wade’s (the Presidents wife) NGO, and funded by a Moroccan donor. Out of twenty-three villages M’Bissaou won the golden ticket in the lottery for this school. I asked why M’Bissaou had been chosen, and as the story goes it might have been because they had ample land, but it was definitely because God said so. I really didn’t know schools like this existed here- I literally was walking around with my mouth open half o f the time. From the outside it was beautiful with each building domed in the Moroccan style and covered in a cream paint. Inside the gates were trees galore -manguiers, a garden, and even a rare tree arboretum where students are taught how to plant trees. To the side of the garden was a fenced in building being used to store the organically grown produce from the nearby fields and the compost that fertilized them- a perfect full circle if you may. Throughout the grounds brightly colored swing sets and play materials are scattered about. When we actually went into one of the softly glowing classrooms there was no let down- space enough for the nice desks, larger blackboards, air flowing, and sun shining in though the large windows. The biggest shock had to be the computer room though. Maybe thirty computers lined up all plugged in and available for use, early-age French DVD’s being used for language acquisition, a teacher that can fix the computers, enough power to turn them all on at the same time, and even a printer/scanner for the teachers use. In Senegal timeliness is a huge problem, especially in the school system. Teachers arrive on time rarely, late most of the time, and are absent often. To address this problem, rooms were build on school grounds for all of the teachers to stay in during the week (each with its own computer), cutting out transportation and food excuses that are often used. Once a week local women are taught how to read and write using the schools rooms. Forgive me if I seem incredulous, but after seeing public and private schools that are oppressing, beyond over crowded, run down, and lacking things as simple as chalk and toilets, this school was a bit of a shock. What would cutting out the regular concrete cases do to Senegal’s education system? More importantly, what could it do for the students?

We then made our way to the woman’s group faming co-op that lies to the side of the school. Here, Madame Wade’s NGO provided low-cost loans and information to the woman’s group. On six hectares of land there are 125 plots of land, with one woman individually cultivating each plot with a sense of ownership. Fertilized by compost made at the school, watered by a manageable drip system, crops of organic onions, potatoes, and peanuts are grown. This produce is used to feed local families, with surpluses being sold. In a region where capital and natural resources are hard to come by, this sustainable masterpiece has improved the life of everyone in the village.

Our last stop was the Case de Santé where Alec and I helped take blood pressure and weight of patients before they went to see the two Brazilians in the consultation room. Visits cost roughly a dollar, and if you need any medication that is available it is given generously and free. We witnessed one person really making a difference as Salete greeted each and ever patient in perfect Wolof like and old friend- and many were. In serious cases, such as the woman with fat visible through chewed up stitched skin, people are sent on up the health structure. More often than not though, patients leave with a treatment plan for their malady, and the information to keep them healthy within the context of their lives. For example, one grand-dame came in with headaches from high blood-pressure, and left with a couple ibuprofens, instructions for them, and how to cook her ceeb u jeen in a healthier manner. In contrast to Mr. Sahko of Valda, Salete is a foreigner who seamlessly fits into the village, rejoices in contact with the commonest of commoners, and gives to people who simply cannot buy things.

M’Bissaou and Salete’s existences in Senegal are equally improbable and hopeful. The village represents what can be attained with a smart and focused development effort, while Salete represents the type of aid worker that is so rare, yet impacts for the better with each step taken.