This Sunday afternoon, the sun’s rays are pounding on the desert floor. The sky seems brazen, but no matter, in this season, it’s like that every day and the children would not miss their soccer game, for anything in the world, which takes place in front of the small church built from sun-dried bricks.
David and Tall gathered the children at the beginning of the afternoon and make the two teams. Temporary cages are put on the ground from old broken rubble and the small motley crowd of spectators will outline the field. The ball, meanwhile, has suffered a lot and it has been repaired many a time, but it is still rolling, no longer straight, of course, but enough so that the game can begin.
Soon, a thick brown dust surrounds the field and the children; it becomes difficult to distinguish the spectators from the players! We cry, we laugh, we fight too, but we are especially happy. We forget the day’s chores, the hardness of life, the tears of the morning and evening.
In this crowd of small children, Adam and Deborah are there. They hold hands so as not to lose eat other but especially as to cling to the ray of hope they share. They are brother and sister. The oldest is 8 years old and the little girl is 6. They do not miss anything during the match and happily encourage the bigger kids that fight over the ball. The two little ones are in rags; their faces are gray and dusty because they haven’t been able to wash. As for their noses, they run and are sticky. I was told that these village children are orphans after losing their father 5 years ago. They live alone with their mother who suffers from mental disorders. And their life, if you can call it life, is hard for them both. Very early in the morning before going to the village school, that is provided by their mother who has been able to pay the school fees this month, Adam and Deborah go with some plastic containers, like many other children and they wait in line at the fountain. When they have their containers filled with water and after dropping them in the small courtyard of their shoddy house, they quickly run not to arrive too late to school. And there, in the midst of dozens of children very much like them, they will try not to fall asleep and learn a few mysteries that they wonder what they will do with. They never thought about the future, the present is far too heavy to do any more than that. Adam and Deborah do not eat every day, and sometimes when they come back from school hungry, they find their mother exhausted having worked all day bringing sand to the dam to resell to the brick builder. Their mother, often delirious welcomes the children with a heavy stick hitting them with rage.
They only have Sunday left to “live”. In the morning they go to the religious service of the small Protestant community, they receive affection, sing and dance with other children and sometimes receive a piece of bread. They will remain there, sitting in the shade of the church and will look forward to the football game in the afternoon. There are too happy to go home…
This story is true, and we keep retelling it, lest we forget… Bouassa has become “our” village. One day will bring us a brand new soccer ball, but most of all, one day we will dig a well because we still believe…
THE SOLUTION:
ONE WELL PER VILLAGE
We believe people, not water, can change everything! When you sponsor Well Drilling Project in Burkina Faso, Africa you’ll unlock the potential of an entire community