Well Being

Gambian school children

The heat shimmered as I sat on a wooden bench in the dry mud compound. I was listening to the Head Man of the village as he spoke. His words were translated by our guide for the day, a wizened little man called Lamin. In Gambia everyone is called Lamin. The Head Man was telling us of life in the compound, where there was no running water, no electricity ... just open fires. It sounded like an extremely hard life compared to our very comfortable lives in the UK. He had proudly shown us his home - a crudely built brick building with a tin roof, a dirt floor and a single room for all his family to sleep and live in. I stepped back out into the bright light of the African sun with tears in my eyes. 

As the Head Man spoke, I noticed children - school age children - toiling back and forth behind us, as they staggered through the dry heat carrying plastic buckets filled with water. 

When there was time for questions, I asked the Head Man why the children were not at school. In Gambia, school is offered free to children between the ages of 4-11. After this, if the family are not able to pay, the young boy joins the workforce, usually working hard as a fisherman or farm hand, with the girls ending up marrying and bearing children. Either that or the young boys would work the beaches as Bumsters, trying to solicit tourists for money by offering sex. There isn't a great future for a Gambian youth if they have no credentials. Education is coveted, but in this case, the children seemed to be missing out.

The Head Man replied that the children were needed to fetch water from a well, so their mothers could cook and wash clothes. The nearest well, he explained, was two kilometres away, because the well in their own compound had collapsed due to the heavy vehicles passing by. I asked him how much it would cost to repair the well. He began to get upset, and pretty soon several women in his compound also began to cry. It is too much money, was his message. More than we could ever afford. 

It emerged that the cost of a new well would be impossible for these poor Gambian farmers to afford, but for me and my students, all from the affluent West, it would be a simple case of going back to our university and raising the money through some charity activities. Six months later some of our staff and students returned to Gambia with enough money to drill the villagers a new well.

Now the children can go to school. Sometimes the solution really is that simple. 

If you buy copies of the new Invisible Poets Anthology 2, and/or Invisible Poets Anthology 3, you will be contributing to Wheelsong Books' charity funds in our drive for Poetry Against Poverty.

This money goes to support Save the Children in their mission to help underprivileged children across the globe.  You'll be doing some lasting good for the price of a few cups of coffee. 

Steve Wheeler