Education in Senegal & L'Empire des Enfants

“But who brings the children here?” We were sitting in a small but colorful classroom. Children’s artwork covered the walls, their ages and nationalities proudly printed on their creations. Age 6, Guinea Bissau. Age 7, Senegal.

The social worker and family counselor turned to face us and answered my question. “We don’t drive through the streets looking for the children. They come here themselves, knock on our door, and we talk with them and encourage them to stay with us until we reunite them with their

families.”

We were at L’Empire des Enfants, a center for the street children of Dakar. Nearly every busy street in the city is home to wandering hordes of children, their hands and buckets outstretched to passers-by, their lips repeating the constant begging noise of “psst, psst.”

Most of the children found begging on the street have been sent into the city by their families to attend a full-time Daara, or a Koranic School. Under the false belief their children will be fed, cared for and given religious training, many parents throughout Senegal and the bordering country of Guinea Bissau ‘enroll’ their children in a full-time Daara. Once there, the children are under the command of a marabout, who demands payment from each child at the end of each day. If they did not have enough luck begging on the streets, they will not receive food and will sometimes be physically punished. When they aren’t on the street, the children spend their time memorizing the Koran. Traditional Daaras in the past were just for daytime religious instruction, and children still lived at home and even returned to the families for lunch in the middle of the day.

Children who are not talibé (the name for students at a Daara) are sometimes children of families whose parents work on the streets, at small fruit stalls or as phone credit sellers. I one time bought fruit on the street and when the woman could not make the proper change, she called over to one of the barefoot boys standing on the sidewalk with a bucket. Once he came over, she went through his day’s earnings to find the needed coins. Although this was the middle of a weekday and the young boy should have been in school, he was instead just taking part in the family enterprise of street vending and begging.

At L’Empire des Enfants, where the majority of students come from corrupt Daaras, a dedicated staff cares deeply for each young boy under their watch and keeps each child in their care until his parents are found. Upon reunion, specialized family and child counselors work to educate the parents about the realities of the Daaras. In Senegal family is the cornerstone of the community, so rather than seek out foster families or orphanages, the center works to return each child to his birth parents.

We managed to catch an afternoon Tae Kwon Do class at the center, and the counselor leading us around explained this was a healthy way for the boys to get out pent up energy, aggression and frustration. Every time a child ran by, he play-punched, high-fived or ducked the familial grab of the counselor. As uplifting as it was to see the care given to the 40 or so boys living at any one time at L’Empire des Enfants, it was hard not to think about all the other lost children still left out on the street.

The Senegalese government has recognized that the Daaras are a grave problem. In Dakar, it is estimated that about 30,000 boys are currently talibés. But, while the corrupt actions of the marabouts might be condemned, that does not mean the schools are coming to an end. The lack of a strong public school system in Senegal that accurately meets the needs and demands of the community allows these alternative forms of education to exist with such strength.

During the morning and afternoon commute in America, residential streets are dotted with a parade of school buses. Although the American public school system is certainly flawed, every child has a guaranteed seat at school with transportation, and, if need be, breakfast and lunch provided. I have seen how overcrowded and underfunded classrooms in American can be, but at the very least the children spend their days in school, and, hopefully, they are surrounded by adults who care. While the quality and efficacy of US elementary education needs work, the first step is just making sure parents enroll their students in affordable schools. This is a step that is still lacking in Senegal.

In fact, in Dakar, 56.6% of elementary age students are enrolled in private schools (UNESCO). This means that the majority of families forgo enrollment in public schools and instead pay tuition, uniform, transportation, and lunch fees to other (often Catholic) schools. For many families this feels less like a choice and more like a necessity if they expect their children to truly receive an education. In many public elementary school classrooms there is no physical space or materials for all the students.

And, children may show up in the morning only to find class is cancelled for days or weeks on end because of teacher strikes. Due to pay cuts in public spending recommended by global financial institutions such as the World Bank and the IMF, it became very financially difficult to support oneself on a teacher’s salary which has led to a severe lack of qualified teachers. Forced to find someone to lead the classrooms, the government recruited ‘volunteer teachers,’ who were paid less than a qualified teacher but also did not need official teaching certification. As of 2010, 52% of the elementary school teachers in Senegal were not qualified (World Bank). But teaching is never easy, and so while the teachers lack official training they are still expected to do a teacher’s job. Inevitable, ensuing battles over salaries lead to frequent and often long-term strikes.

But while mismanagement and insufficient funding is a key part of the problem, I do not believe the public schools of Senegal serve the needs of the population in a way that encourages enrollment and inspires teachers. After achieving independence from France in 1960, Senegal struggled to uniquely define its educational system. A nation-wide conference in 1991 led to the creation of law 91-22, which is still in use today.

It states that the goals of elementary education

are to “instruct the children in the national language and the cultural values, in an effort to form their identity.” The national language is French and the cultural values are defined as “liberty, pluralistic democracy, and respect for the rights of man.” These are legitimate values but they sound awfully similar to France’s motto “liberté, fraternité, egalité.” Senegalese and West African culture emphasizes community and an understanding of the greater good. A supposedly strong emphasis on cultivating respect for individual rights is not necessarily harmonious with the true values expressed at home.

Furthermore, the years in elementary education are used to build the child’s French fluency as it will be the language of instruction for the rest of their schooling. However, it is unlikely that French is the language they hear at home and first learned to speak, so while French is part of their culture it might not hold the same sense of identity as Wolof does.

Western education also greatly values a strong separation of church and state. It is hard to even get through the winter holidays in US public schools without stepping on any toes. But Senegal does not have the same scared relationship with religion that we have in America. I cannot even count how many times a Muslim has expressed their appreciation and respect for Catholics and vice versa.

Religion here is talked about and expressed only and peacefully. Turning a quiet corner at prayer time often means running into someone on his knees, prayer mat rolled out as he confidently practices his religion publicly. At lunch that day, a Catholic might have been chatting with that same man about what she had given up for lent. This healthy relationship with religious pluralism means it is a large part of most people’s identity. One of the reasons families resort to sending their children to corrupt Daaras is because they believe Koranic training is so important. Mandatory religious education should never be enforced in public schools, but a spiritual “track” that includes a choice of Christian or Muslim instruction (with an option for neither) could answer the needs of many religious families and encourage public school enrollment, while also fostering a strong sense of Senegalese nationality.

If public schools receive better funding and are designed in a way that celebrates and represents Senegalese culture, more young people might be drawn to the field of education. With an increase in qualified teachers and a stronger identity, families who have forgone public schools might relieve some of their previously assumed financial burden by using the state-run institutions. Well-managed, thoughtfully planned and adequately resourced schools could help keep the young boys off the streets, as long as families believe that the schools are truly serving the needs of their children.

Education is an art and a science that no country has truly mastered. While every child in the world needs and deserves a quality education, it might not always look the same from one country to another. Western nations’ past historical influences continue to have a strong hold over the educational systems of the world, but just like differentiated teaching requires catering one’s instruction to the needs of each student, large-scale educational systems are in need of some differentiation as well.

While it is a blessing to have a center such as L’Empire des Enfants, one can imagine a time when there will not be such a high demand for their good work. There will always be children who need our help and places like L’Empire des Enfants are there to lend a hand, but we must do as much as we can to create a world where not so many need saving.