Children Are Special, No? Protecting Senegal’s Most Valuable Resource: Its Children

By: Hopey Fink

December 6, 2013

It is impossible to walk down a street in Dakar without being swarmed by at least a few talibe, the raggedly-dressed young child beggars who rattle their cans at passing strangers to collect money for their marabout teachers. The controversial marabout system, which is supposed to teach humility to the young Qur'anic students, is a constant reminder that children’s rights are conceptualized differently in Senegal than in the United States. Encounters with talibe have been a cause of inner moral turmoil for me, as I consider cultural relativism and exploitative systems, especially as I intern at an organization that promotes children’s rights. With over 50 percent of its population under 18, Senegal cannot avoid the fact that children are its present as well as its future.
In recent years, Senegalese society has undergone a social transformation, as have many other African societies. The influence of Western practices and values, and the idealization of these external factors, has contributed to a loss of important elements in the traditional society of Senegal. The family structure is changing from that of a large extended family all living together to that of a more nuclear family. With these changes, a crisis of identity is beginning to occur. Senegalese people, confronted by globalization, economic weakness, and urbanization, do not have a strong national identity. 

More and more, these changes are having a dramatic effect on society’s most vulnerable: children. Without their traditional values, many parents do not know how to raise their children, how to best provide for their development needs. Outside the traditional family environment, the socialization of children often succumbs to the television or other passive activities. My main internship project has been a document for parents and educators advocating for the benefits of traditional socialization, like the role of the extended family and the practice of carrying babies on the back. Although at times I have felt strange doing research as a “cultural outsider,” I’ve been able to learn a lot about children’s various roles in today’s Senegalese society. 

Kids watching television all day may not seem like the most pressing problem in a country where much of the population still lives without electricity, but the “crisis of socialization” is linked to larger developmental questions where children are concerned. For one thing, it sets back the process of learning for children in an education system already riddled with issues like frequent teacher strikes and inconsistent language instruction. Besides falling through the cracks of the formal education system, children who live in areas of rapid societal change are also more susceptible to illegal labor, sexual abuse, and early marriage. 

Despite these hurdles, however, Senegal is making strides in caring for its children. Though lawmaking is often slow and inefficient, President Macky Sall has recently spoken about the need to protect the rights of talibe, and NGOs and international agencies like UNICEF are working hard to ensure that the sanctions discussed in the 1999 African Charter of the Rights and Well-Being of the Child are a reality in Senegal. 

I discovered a refreshing respect for children when I stayed for eleven days with a host family in Keur Demba Ngoy Diakhate, a rural village where traditional family compounds are still the norm. I had the opportunity to accompany a midwife giving polio vaccinations to children under five in the village—here was concrete work that the Senegalese government was funding to protect children’s health. At a training session for the Community Council that I attended, I learned of some other awesome initiatives, including a successful campaign against early marriage and a program teaching mothers (and fathers!) how to talk to their babies and encouraging reading to children. There seemed to be a generational attitude shift toward seeing the benefits of education, including for girls. 

Children are celebrated in Keur Demba. Babies were passed around from grandmother to uncle to older sister, with the whole family invested in their first steps and first words. The sight of a three-year-old with a knife, adeptly peeling onions, was not uncommon and reminded me that my American ideas about child safety need to be re-contextualized. After a full-out party for one-year-old baby Khadim, complete with music, juice boxes, and a speech from the local imam, his young mother explained simply why she had splurged on such festivity: “He is my child, and I love him. Children are special, no?” 

That’s a sentiment in which all of us—in Senegal, in America, and around the world—ought to share.
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