Mpal: Visiting Ameth and his family (Plan International)

Mpal.  Hot.  We arrived mid-day and entered a small compound behind a woodworker's shop.  The walls are made of cement block.  There is an outdoor latrine, always kept washed and clean, squat style.  A cooking area is also outside under a scantily covered palm roof.  Large cooking pots are placed on top of a large propane tank.  It always takes me awhile to even figure out who the key characters are - I'm at least trying to find the mother.  And Ameth.  He is still at school.  The older brother takes us there by car.

The school courtyard is teeming with children.  Magatte, Ameth's younger brother, leads the way in locating Ameth.  It becomes clear, if I did not already know, that Ameth does not speak French, only Wolof.  Iba and I wanted to also talk to the administrator, who advised us that Ameth was not doing well in school and he needed to step it up. We knew he had already failed this last year.  Ameth looked down at his hands, a very closed body position.  When I asked about the effectiveness of Plan, I got the political-speak back.  I didn't have any confidence in what he said.

Upon arrival back at the compound, I see one woman cooking, one doing laundry (by hand, of course) and the mom is cooking.  The fluency in French varies, but the smiles and warmth are universal.  What a delicious lunch we had...the traditional Senegalese food is rice with fish or chicken, which has all be cooked together making a fragrant, rich stew.  It's super yummy.

Afterwards, Iba (mostly, in Wolof) and I had a lengthy discussion with Ameth and his mom.  Things are very complicated.  Ameth lives with his grandmother, who lets him get away with anything.  The mom lives with family on the other side of town somewhere with a husband and brothers, but is not at ease there (not sure why).  Over two to three hours, Ameth opens up like a flower as we decide how to help him, finally settling on several months of tutoring so he can pass his exam.  His efforts to convince me that he needed a cell phone fell on deaf ears (what a great way to waste even more time, as far as I was concerned).  As for the mother, we also talked at great length about her desire to make money and become more independent.  I decided to give her seed funds to buy some fabrics at wholesale prices so she could sell them, with strict oversight by Iba.  It's pretty common for the Senegalese to fritter away money by giving it someone else or buying something they want.  I'm very strict about this.

During our discussion, a heavy-set woman arrived who had done the translations for the letters from Ameth.  At least she claimed she did.  She must have been sent the administrator from the school.  Her French was very primitive so I knew she was not telling the truth as the last letter from Ameth (or rather, signed as Ameth) was beautifully written in French.  This was a disappointment to me.

As we headed back to St. Louis, the air became cooler,  much appreciated.