Boubacar goes to school
by Carrie Blake, Niger
On a Monday, his chubby 2-year old hands grasped for the scrawny chicken that ran in front of the mud brick house they called home. He tripped and fell, “Mama!!” he hollered and quickly caught his breath when he heard her reassuring response of, “Boubacar! Are you okay?” She picked him up, dusted off his knees, and went back to pounding the millet as he ran after the chicken once again. “Leila!” he shouted to his sister, so happy to have his playmate back. “Leila!” he cried as she walked back from the well with a heavy pail of water.
That night, he fell ill. He ran a high fever, but his hands were cold. He cried. He wouldn’t eat, yet he vomited. Mama tried to comfort him through the night. It went on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and by Friday morning he couldn’t stay awake and stopped responding to her, despite his labored breathing.
“Boubacar. Drink this.”
Those were the last words he heard. His world went silent after that sickness and he didn’t use his voice anymore. Mama and Leila were perplexed as to why he wouldn’t respond to them, but they assumed that he was still feeling unwell. The weeks went on and on and the family realized that he couldn’t hear anymore. They assumed that they had done something wrong, that perhaps this was a curse from the spirits. They kept him home, so as not to attract attention from others.
Eight long years later, Mama heard that a woman in the neighborhood had opened a center in her home for disabled children. It took a few weeks, but one day, on a Tuesday in October, she worked up enough courage to take Boubacar to the woman to see if he could be in the center. The woman, Hadiza, welcomed Mama and Boubacar with a bright, kind smile and asked Mama why she was there. Mama explained that Boubacar didn’t hear or speak. Hadiza invited him to play with the other children, all of whom had special needs, and it was clear that Boubacar was very intelligent and kind. Hadiza had heard that there was a school for the deaf somewhere in the city and she told the woman that she would try to find out where it was.
Later that Tuesday, Hadiza ran into a friend who she hadn’t seen for months. During the course of the usual, “Hi!” “How are you?” “And your family?” the friend said, “I heard that you were able to start the center that you’ve dreamed of starting. How’s it going?” “Oh,” Hadiza said, her eyes twinkling, “it’s going very well. Each morning, the children arrive and we feed them breakfast. Then we wash them and brush their teeth. We play and teach them and share lunch together. Each week, new children come. It’s only been a few weeks and already the change in the children is obvious! Just today, a woman brought her son to me. He is 10 years old. He is deaf and mute, but he is intelligent. I’m not sure what to do because he won’t fit in with the other
children, but I’ve heard that there is a school for the deaf somewhere in the city, so I’m going to try to find out about that.”
“I know the school for the deaf!” the friend chimed in, “I can take you there and show you where it is. We can talk with the Director and he will be able to help you.”
Fast-forward a week, today, and little Boubacar is riding in the backseat of a 4Runner, his eyes wide and a huge grin on his face as he embarks on what, unbeknownst to him, is likely to be the grandest adventure of his life. Because there has been no one to teach him sign language in his silent world, he doesn’t really know what is happening or where he is going. But he is happy to see places that he’s never seen before.
They arrive at the school and the children are at recess. There’s an eerie and peaceful air about the school – so many children and so little noise. But these children are happy and they are communicating with each other in American Sign Language. Boubacar watches attentively. Perhaps there is something stirring inside of him, a recognition of a sameness between himself and these kids. For perhaps the first time in his life, children his age are coming up to him and speaking to him with their hands (and a bit confused that he can’t understand!).
The Director of the school interviews Hadiza, Mama and Boubacar. Boubacar’s interview is a two-step process. First, the Director shouts his name while Boubacar is staring with longing at the children playing outside and Boubacar doesn’t react, clearly not hearing the loud noise just behind him. The second step of the interview is a quick test as to whether Boubacar is teachable. He meets the challenge with a bit of confusion in his eyes, but easily learns the signs for A – B – C.
Not 20 minutes from the moment he stepped foot on the school grounds for the first time, Boubacar’s life is changed forever, as he has been accepted to the Niamey School for the Deaf!
Miraculously, this little boy who has lived in a silent world with no real means of communication will begin school TOMORROW! Thanks to the generosity of many, this school is able to receive children easily. The fees for the parents consist of $20 per year to help pay for school lunches. Parents are also responsible for getting their kids to and from the school. Boubacar lives far from the school. His days will be very different now, with a taxi ride to school, the full day of learning and playing with children just like him, and the long taxi ride home.
Mama cannot afford the taxi – the daily cost is more than what this family spends on food in a day. The estimated cost for Boubacar to get to and from school each month is $100.
Boubacar rides in the back of the car on the way home from his interview with a dreamy smile on his face, pointing out the big buildings and art in the middle of the round-a-bouts to Mama. He’s never seen these things before. This is a big day in his life, even if he doesn’t know it. Mama frets a bit because she knows that she can’t possibly pay for a taxi to take Boubacar to school. Hadiza stops by their mud brick home later in the day to give Boubacar his new backpack and notebook for school. She has a gift for Mama, too: the news that Remember Niger, a US-based NGO that works with the school, has already agreed to pay for Boubacar’s transportation to and from school, even before they’ve had a chance to raise the funds. Mama is relieved and amazed, even somewhat shocked at what her small step to reach out to Hadiza a week ago has brought – the opportunity for Boubacar to go to school, to learn to speak, read, write, do math, have a future!
“Mama!” she hears his little two-year old voice in her dreams that night. In the dream, she has her back to him and is bent over the cooking fire, “Mama!” he says and she turns around, only to see him standing silently with his hand wide open and the thumb to his chin. She hears it again, “Mama,” and it is then that she realizes that he is signing her name and calling her in his new-found language. Mama, indeed. His world may remain silent, but his voice will be heard.
To donate toward Boubacar’s transportation expenses, simply click here. Specify “Boubacar deaf school” in the comments. If excess funds are received, they will be used toward changing the life of another child who simply needs a ride to school.
by Carrie Blake, Niger
On a Monday, his chubby 2-year old hands grasped for the scrawny chicken that ran in front of the mud brick house they called home. He tripped and fell, “Mama!!” he hollered and quickly caught his breath when he heard her reassuring response of, “Boubacar! Are you okay?” She picked him up, dusted off his knees, and went back to pounding the millet as he ran after the chicken once again. “Leila!” he shouted to his sister, so happy to have his playmate back. “Leila!” he cried as she walked back from the well with a heavy pail of water.
That night, he fell ill. He ran a high fever, but his hands were cold. He cried. He wouldn’t eat, yet he vomited. Mama tried to comfort him through the night. It went on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and by Friday morning he couldn’t stay awake and stopped responding to her, despite his labored breathing.
“Boubacar. Drink this.”
Those were the last words he heard. His world went silent after that sickness and he didn’t use his voice anymore. Mama and Leila were perplexed as to why he wouldn’t respond to them, but they assumed that he was still feeling unwell. The weeks went on and on and the family realized that he couldn’t hear anymore. They assumed that they had done something wrong, that perhaps this was a curse from the spirits. They kept him home, so as not to attract attention from others.
Eight long years later, Mama heard that a woman in the neighborhood had opened a center in her home for disabled children. It took a few weeks, but one day, on a Tuesday in October, she worked up enough courage to take Boubacar to the woman to see if he could be in the center. The woman, Hadiza, welcomed Mama and Boubacar with a bright, kind smile and asked Mama why she was there. Mama explained that Boubacar didn’t hear or speak. Hadiza invited him to play with the other children, all of whom had special needs, and it was clear that Boubacar was very intelligent and kind. Hadiza had heard that there was a school for the deaf somewhere in the city and she told the woman that she would try to find out where it was.
Later that Tuesday, Hadiza ran into a friend who she hadn’t seen for months. During the course of the usual, “Hi!” “How are you?” “And your family?” the friend said, “I heard that you were able to start the center that you’ve dreamed of starting. How’s it going?” “Oh,” Hadiza said, her eyes twinkling, “it’s going very well. Each morning, the children arrive and we feed them breakfast. Then we wash them and brush their teeth. We play and teach them and share lunch together. Each week, new children come. It’s only been a few weeks and already the change in the children is obvious! Just today, a woman brought her son to me. He is 10 years old. He is deaf and mute, but he is intelligent. I’m not sure what to do because he won’t fit in with the other
children, but I’ve heard that there is a school for the deaf somewhere in the city, so I’m going to try to find out about that.”
“I know the school for the deaf!” the friend chimed in, “I can take you there and show you where it is. We can talk with the Director and he will be able to help you.”
Fast-forward a week, today, and little Boubacar is riding in the backseat of a 4Runner, his eyes wide and a huge grin on his face as he embarks on what, unbeknownst to him, is likely to be the grandest adventure of his life. Because there has been no one to teach him sign language in his silent world, he doesn’t really know what is happening or where he is going. But he is happy to see places that he’s never seen before.
They arrive at the school and the children are at recess. There’s an eerie and peaceful air about the school – so many children and so little noise. But these children are happy and they are communicating with each other in American Sign Language. Boubacar watches attentively. Perhaps there is something stirring inside of him, a recognition of a sameness between himself and these kids. For perhaps the first time in his life, children his age are coming up to him and speaking to him with their hands (and a bit confused that he can’t understand!).
The Director of the school interviews Hadiza, Mama and Boubacar. Boubacar’s interview is a two-step process. First, the Director shouts his name while Boubacar is staring with longing at the children playing outside and Boubacar doesn’t react, clearly not hearing the loud noise just behind him. The second step of the interview is a quick test as to whether Boubacar is teachable. He meets the challenge with a bit of confusion in his eyes, but easily learns the signs for A – B – C.
Not 20 minutes from the moment he stepped foot on the school grounds for the first time, Boubacar’s life is changed forever, as he has been accepted to the Niamey School for the Deaf!
Miraculously, this little boy who has lived in a silent world with no real means of communication will begin school TOMORROW! Thanks to the generosity of many, this school is able to receive children easily. The fees for the parents consist of $20 per year to help pay for school lunches. Parents are also responsible for getting their kids to and from the school. Boubacar lives far from the school. His days will be very different now, with a taxi ride to school, the full day of learning and playing with children just like him, and the long taxi ride home.
Mama cannot afford the taxi – the daily cost is more than what this family spends on food in a day. The estimated cost for Boubacar to get to and from school each month is $100.
Boubacar rides in the back of the car on the way home from his interview with a dreamy smile on his face, pointing out the big buildings and art in the middle of the round-a-bouts to Mama. He’s never seen these things before. This is a big day in his life, even if he doesn’t know it. Mama frets a bit because she knows that she can’t possibly pay for a taxi to take Boubacar to school. Hadiza stops by their mud brick home later in the day to give Boubacar his new backpack and notebook for school. She has a gift for Mama, too: the news that Remember Niger, a US-based NGO that works with the school, has already agreed to pay for Boubacar’s transportation to and from school, even before they’ve had a chance to raise the funds. Mama is relieved and amazed, even somewhat shocked at what her small step to reach out to Hadiza a week ago has brought – the opportunity for Boubacar to go to school, to learn to speak, read, write, do math, have a future!
“Mama!” she hears his little two-year old voice in her dreams that night. In the dream, she has her back to him and is bent over the cooking fire, “Mama!” he says and she turns around, only to see him standing silently with his hand wide open and the thumb to his chin. She hears it again, “Mama,” and it is then that she realizes that he is signing her name and calling her in his new-found language. Mama, indeed. His world may remain silent, but his voice will be heard.
To donate toward Boubacar’s transportation expenses, simply click here. Specify “Boubacar deaf school” in the comments. If excess funds are received, they will be used toward changing the life of another child who simply needs a ride to school.
