One voice for the Sahel: Communities, UN Agencies, NGOs & other partners
working together for a response to the Sahel crisis/ Une voix pour le Sahel: Communautés, agences des NU, ONGs et partenaires travaillant ensemble pour une réponse à la crise du Sahel
WHD 2013
Showing posts with label Plan International. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Plan International. Show all posts
Friday, March 7, 2014
Crisis in the Sahel: Adolescent Girls Struggle in Mali and Niger
By Plan
Adolescent girls are often the first victims in crisis situations, and the last to receive help afterwards. Plan recognises this and is making an effort to address the needs of victims of last year's conflict in Mali, as well as in Niger, where adolescent girls are often taken from school and married off to help their families during times of drought and food shortage.
Adolescent girls were extremely vulnerable during the 10-month occupation of Northern Mali by armed militias in 2012, but they have also been overlooked in the aftermath. Plan International has begun working with the victims of this conflict but, after speaking with many adolescent girls in Northern Mali, it is clear that more must be done.
Plan is calling for governments and humanitarian actors to recognize and address the specific needs of adolescents' girls before, during and after disasters.
By Mohammed, a teenage boy living in Mentao refugee camp, Burkina Faso / Through Plan
Displaced by the Mali conflict, Mohammed’s family has borrowed all the money they can to send him to school, while they stay in Mentao refugee camp, Burkina Faso.
21 March 2013: I am extremely excited today, like every Friday afternoon. I am going back home to spend the weekend with my family. This is my life now here in Mentao.
Since we arrived in this part of Burkina Faso, fleeing the troubles in Timbuktu, I have been somehow parted from my parents. That was the only solution for me to stay in school. In the Mentao camp, where we live, there are no secondary schools - only primary schools run by Plan. The closest secondary school is in Djibo, about 50 kilometres from the camp.
At the beginning of the school year, we discussed it with my dad. He said I had to go to Djibo to study but that means I would have to become “more independent” and learn to be “on my own”.
Learning to survive
This is so new for me. With dad and other parents of the camps, we found a house to rent in Djibo. There are 6 of us in this small 3 bed house. The rent is paid by our parents and there is a woman from the camp who is coming once or twice a week to cook for us.
When we started living on our own, I just thought, ‘this is great, this is what I have always wanted to have - my own place’. Over the past months, I have learnt that there are strings attached to this gift.
The simple things I was not bothered to think about are now all mine. From turning the light off while leaving the house, to making sure doors are locked, taking care of bills and liaising between the landlord and my parents.
Education cost
My dad said it is a learning curve and that it is how I learn to become adult. Perhaps he is right. I don’t care that much because I strangely discovered a new passion for my studies here in Mentao.
I have always been quite good in school. But now I have a strong reason to be studious. My dad has paid over 140 000 FCFA (US$254) to get me and my brother into the private school I am attending. There was no place left in the overcrowded government-owned Lycée provincial in Djibo.
My parents sold a lot of our belongings and borrowed money from friends and relatives to make it happen. I feel there is an extra pressure on me to perform. I have been reading my lessons and doing my homework every day without failing.
So proud
I was so proud when I brought my first term results and I had so many good marks. I think my dad was relieved too. I heard my dad talk about next year and his worries about his ability to keep us in school, because of the high fees. I am worried too.
Many of my friends in Mentao camp don’t go to school anymore. They have dropped-out because there is no secondary school in the camp and their parents cannot afford the fees of the private schools in Djibo, plus the rent.
They spend all their days doing nothing in the camp. That is really sad. I know I am lucky. I often share my school experiences with them and I can see they envy me somehow. We all hope things will get better and all of us will be able to attend school.
Plan support
Like many secondary school teenagers in Mentao, my brother Abdul and I have applied for a bursary with Plan. We are praying we will receive the money to help our parents, who are clearly struggling to make ends meet.
My friend Muhammed, is hoping this bursary will help him go back to school - he hates staying at home all day long doing nothing.
The other day we were discussing about this school thing during our weekend stay in Mentao. A friend said he overheard his parents talking about a Plan project to build a new school building in the government owned Lycée provincial in Djibo, so that there are spaces for all of us.
Things are looking great thanks to all these projects going on. I now envy my friends who are enjoying a gap year in Mentao camp and will certainly be back to school when the new school year starts in October next year.
Adjusting to life in a camp in the Niger is difficult, for Malian refugee children – but school provides a place to learn, play and forge friendships.
It is the first day of class for Malian refugee children at the primary school in Mangaize camp.
Adjusting to a new life in the camp, which stretches over the Sahara Desert, is not easy, particularly for children who have escaped the violence back home.
But, at this school, they are trying to return to normalcy. They are excited to learn, play and socialize with their friends.
School in the camp
Mangaize is one of three official camps among the six sites in the Niger hosting 50,000 Malians, more than 42 per cent of whom are school-age children.
UNICEF and its partner, NGO Plan International, have installed and furnished 11 tent classrooms and provided school supplies. In order to reduce language and culture barriers, new Malian teachers are trained in the Nigerien curriculum and in techniques of providing crash courses to cover missed school time.
The primary school opened five months ago has enrolled 837 students, a number that is increasing as new refugees continue to arrive.
“These children go to school because education is the basis of their future,” says Vice President of the Refugee Committee in Mangaize refugee camp Ag Bonjoly Aklinine.
School in the host community
A Nigerien middle school next to the refugee camp has opened its doors to Malian students living in the camp. UNICEF is helping the school to improve its capacity to welcome and integrate the students. New latrines have been constructed and a hand pump installed to meet the needs of all of the children – Malian refugee and Nigerien host, alike.
Adjusting to a new learning environment is a challenge for the Malian children, who are far from their friends and are trying to fit in to a new setting.
“On the first day at school, I felt I was left out. I did not know anyone; I was struggling to find my way around,” says Falmata Aghali, 14. Falmata and her grandmother fled conflict in Menaka, northern Mali, and are living in Mangaize camp. “My parents are in Bamako,” she continues. When I was alone, I thought about them and used to feel lonely, as I did not have any friends here.”
Falmata, who is in her second year of middle school, is slowly adjusting well, thanks to support from her new teachers and classmates.
“On the second day at school, two girls approached me and introduced themselves. They asked me where I came from, and we started chatting. Ever since then, they have become my close friends.” Falmata looks forward to the day when she will be reunited with her family in Mali. But, for now, she is safe here and “happy to be in school”.
Safe play areas
In addition to education, UNICEF and Plan International are supporting services to help distressed children recover from the trauma they experienced as they escaped the fighting.
There are four child-friendly spaces in the camp, which offer the children a place to play and get psychosocial support to cope with the stress they have experienced. Each day, trained volunteer animators organize activities including dancing, sports, games, drawing and culture awareness sessions.
Protection Officer of Plan International Abou Zeid talks about the benefits of one dancing session: “This imagination activity helps the children to stay connected to their culture even if they have moved far away. It also offers the children an opportunity for entertainment.”
Needs are dire
UNICEF is working with its partners to help Malian children realize their right to education and to their bright future. So far, more than 4,700 refugee children are enrolled in five primary schools in refugee camps and official sites hosting Malian refugees in the Niger, one of the poorest countries in the world. But the needs are dire.
UNICEF and its partners in the Niger need US$3.32 million to respond fully and effectively to the growing humanitarian needs of Malian refugees.
Nine year old Saoudata has had to make a sacrifice that no little girl should.
She’s had to evacuate Sévaré without her mother or her two-year old brother. The only reason that they were left behind was because her mum, Habibatou, was short on bus fare by 6,000 CFA (US$12).
"She has to put her children first, that is what mothers do", her aunt Zachery said.
Saoudata and three other brothers and sisters will be living with their Aunty Zachery and Uncle Ahmed.
It’s the second time they were uprooted because of the conflict in Mali. Last year, the Timbuktu family – including Ahmed, Zachery and their three children - fled to Sévaré when fighting broke out in the historic north Malian city. They felt Sévaré would be safe. Now they’ve had to run again, this time to Ségou the regional capital in central Mali where there is a large army and government presence.
This city is still bustling with activity seemingly oblivious to the fighting north and west of the town. There was a tense moment when the armed insurgents crossed the border from Mauritania and seized Diabaly about 160km north of Ségou. The tension was noticeable in the town but the following day everything was back to normal. The markets and stores are open and trading is alive and well.
In the midst of life, Saoudata is visibly unhappy.
He usually does that when he thinks he is alone in a room. Mamadou is 6 years old and he does not like anyone to see him crying lest he be teased and be called a girl. But he can’t help it. He often cries because of the fighting and what he has seen.
A couple of days ago, we went shopping with my dad. On our way back home, as we were driving in front of the military barracks daddy shouted to us “look away now”. I immediately did but Mamadou didn’t. He looked up to see what was happening in the barracks and he has not stopped crying since.
He told me he saw people lying on the ground beside the wall of the barracks and there was blood everywhere. My dad later said the people were shot dead. My brother is really shaken and it makes me sad. I am worried about him. I have been trying to cheer him up but it does not work.
When I am at home, I often hear gunshots. This happens at any time of the day. Every time I hear gunfire I would rush to check on my little brother. I try to divert his attention with silly games.
By Mamadou Samba Bocoum, Programme Unit Manager in Plan International (Ségou, Mali)
I called my brother today and it was hard.
I have seven brothers and sisters and Gorou, 60, is the eldest. He lives in Sévaré in Mopti Region which is close to the area where military action is taking place.
Today when I called his voice was different. He was very emotional. I have never heard him like this. He told me he was concerned about his children and his home. They had been hearing gunshots and heavy military vehicles were just 9 km away. They’re scared but he is determined to stay at home no matter what.
I know what this ‘no matter what’ means and I am anxious. I know he will stay put and defend his house to his last breath. This is hard but I understand and respect his choice.
By Edwige Depagne-Sorgho, Emergency Communications Officer in Plan International
Bamako, the Malian capital, is swarming with news reporters from all over the world, each wanting desperately to get to Mopti or Ségou nearer to where the action is taking place.
I was fortunate to get security clearance to go to Ségou and spend a few days seeing how the conflict is impacting the lives of women and children and to learn how Plan International is helping them. Particularly to see how Plan is helping get them back to school in a safe environment so they can catch-up on missed classes and get emotional support as their lives have been so disrupted.
As soon as we started to work, taking pictures, visiting the wounded in hospital and schools filled with displaced children, my security officer, who is constantly glued to his communications set, said “we have go ... pack up ... max 30 minutes”.
I am tearful. I feel angry and frustrated. I only arrived last night after a six-hour long drive on a bumpy road which felt like hours of turbulence on a plane. I had high hopes of documenting the humanitarian impact of this war on women and children and sharing it with the world. But now I am running for my life.
I am bitterly disappointed.
I feel I have broken a promise to myself but worst of all to these children, women and men I met in or around Ségou.
My consolation is that the time I spent in Ségou, I met so many people with compelling stories, such as 25-year old Aminata who fled Konnan a few days ago with her three children. She became separated from her husband and is spending sleepless nights, worried and fearing that he has been killed.
Break time at Ecole Mission in Ségou. Credit: Plan International
Fourteen-year old Issa from Timbuktu remains in a state of shock. He just stares. He struggles to speak.
I am fortunate because I can leave Ségou which has just been designated as a “red zone” by the military and flee to safety. But these people have nowhere to go. I am leaving them all behind.
It’s déjà vu all over for me – just a different country.
The anxiety I feel now is the same that I felt for my loved ones when the big earthquake hit Haiti three years so. For days I didn’t know what happen to them. I scanned the internet looking for clues that will give me hope. I rationally thought about the situation and concluded that it was bad news for some, if not all, the four members of my family in Port-au-Prince. But then the good news came. They all escaped the earthquake unharmed and were quickly transferred to safety in Paris.
I am hoping for the same miracle for those I am leaving behind in Ségou. I am praying they will be fine until I return.
