Hawaou was but an infant when her young father of twenty-one died of a severe fever. Indeed, even in this day and age people in Africa still die of simple fevers, behind which lurk a gamut of pathologies. Her young mother, sixteen years old at the time, was left alone to provide for Hawaou and her brother, who would succumb just one year later to a poorly treated case of malaria. Unable to cope, her mother brought Hawaou to her grandfather in the bush, thinking that Hawaou would at least have plenty of food and shelter.
Her mother returned to a life of prostitution in Zinder that would provide her daily food, along with so many other young women her age in desperate circumstances. Who would want her now? Completely devoid of a dowry and a mother of many children (one dead), her courage had failed her. Hawaou would never hear from her mother again.
Hawaou’s grandfather was harsh with the child. He would force her to work in the fields from early morning until late afternoon, under a blazing sun and in the hopes of producing some kind of a harvest from the fields of sand. When she would return to the village and ask for a bit of food or something to drink, her grandfather would beat her saying she didn’t work fast enough to be deserving of a meal.
By the age of nine, Hawaou had ceased to nurse any illusions about life and people; by the time she turned twelve, her grandfather had decided to marry her to an eighteen year old boy living in a neighbouring bush town. Frightened to her very core and exhausted by field work that was much too demanding for a little girl, she decided to run away.
And that is how Hawaou found her way to Zinder! She walked 25 km, day after day, week after week, on a journey peppered with both good and bad encounters. Once in Zinder, she roamed the streets for a few days before being brought to Child Protective Services in a state of exhaustion and advanced malnutrition. But as Providence would have it, I was there that morning to present both the Association and my activities in favour of street children and child mothers! And there before me on a wobbly bench were two little girls with eyes downcast; faces bearing unimaginable discouragement. I’m sure you can guess what happened! I left the Service with two twelve year old girls in tow, nearly hand in hand and with heart overflowing! What a coincidence! Two hours later, they were given their first warm, nourishing meal at the Centre! That was early April…
Since Hawaou had no family in Zinder and we didn’t know where her mother was, we decided, in collaboration with Child Protective Services, to place her in a small orphanage fifteen minutes away. I thought everything would be alright, but it wasn’t. Hawaou had been moved to a host family near the school with Mariam and her baby one week earlier!
The orphanage neglected the children placed in their care. Under a cloud of guilt for the thirty some children living there, who visibly lacked food, I would bring granola bars or bananas every Wednesday. There was nothing more I could do. Where on earth was the money for these orphans going?
The day I asked Hawaou why she had missed an entire day of school she replied that the director of the orphanage had taken her to a neighbour’s house to do the cleaning! From that point on, I did everything in my power to get her out of there.
It was not easy. I had to summon Zinder’s city judge to observe the deplorable state of the orphanage (Hawaou had lice in her hair and scabies on her ankles). The director of the orphanage was aggressive at first, but once the judge was involved he let Hawaou leave quietly. Official papers were signed, so I am legally covered with regard to the Association! I do not want to be accused one day of kidnapping children in Zinder!
