By Leah H. Mwainyekule
FOUR years ago I visited a
very remote village called Shidunda. The
village is located in Nyimbi ward, Mbozi district in Mbeya, in the Southern
Highlands of Tanzania. In that small
village I met an eleven year old boy called Andrea. He was disabled, using a wheelchair to help
him move from one place to another, with his fellow children happy to push the
chair up the hills, whenever Andrea needed a hand. Andrea was in standard two at the time, and
although he was old for his class, at least he was lucky to be taken to
school. His past story is an example of
how many African Children are denied the right to education just because they
are disabled.
To cut a long story short, Andrea’s
father had passed away, and his mother was the one taking care of him. However, the grandfather did not want his
grandson to be seen by anyone because he was disabled. It just happened that one day the Shidunda
Primary School head teacher was in the neighborhood checking if children who
had reached the age of going to school had been registered. As he was getting closer to Andrea’s home, he
saw four children playing; but as he got there, he found only three. That was when he discovered that Andrea was
hidden under a sack so that he couldn’t be seen.
But Andrea was lucky that the
teacher saw him and made sure that he was enrolled and started attending
classes. His grandfather did not know
that being disabled is not a curse, and neither did Andrea or his fellow
children know that he had rights just like any other child in the world. And that is the real situation of today’s
African Child. Does this child really know his rights? How about the community
that surrounds him? Do they really know?
On June 16 each year, Africa
celebrates the Day of the African Child.
This day was first initiated by the Organisation of African Unity (OAU),
honoring those who participated in the Soweto Uprising of June 16 1976 where
about ten thousand black school children marched in a column more that half a
mile long, protesting the poor quality of their education and demanding for
their right to be taught in their own language.
Hundreds of young students were shot, and more than a hundred people
killed in the protests the following two weeks.
This day, which has been
celebrated by Africa since 1991, aims at raising awareness of the continuing
need for improvement of the education provided to African children and other
things that affect them. This year’s
theme for the day is "Eliminating Harmful Social and Cultural Practices Affecting Children: Our Collective Responsibility."
Now, as children have
celebrated this day all over the continent, I have been asking myself one
question: Has the African Child really been reached? I’m talking here about involving children
like Andrea, those who live in the remote areas where there is no electricity,
nor the luxury to learn about this important day through the media. I’m talking about people like Andrea’s
grandfather, who have no idea about this day and about the rights of the child,
and who only need someone to tell them that this child is not a curse, but a
blessing from God who can do wonders if given the opportunity that is given to
other children elsewhere.
And that is what makes me cry
for the African Child.
I cry for the African Child
who comes from the very remote places like Shidunda, Kantalamba, Idweli, Iseselo,
Koboko, Hayadesh, Mbuganyekundu, Jobaj, Mnyuzi, Chekelei, Mbwakeni, Ndaoya and
Makongorosi. I cry for that child who
doesn’t even know that June 16 is the most important day of their lives, for
them to celebrate their being and demand for their rights.
Yes I cry for the African
Child – even that one in the city – who is forced to burn out in the sun while
the ‘grown ups’ take the front seats in the shade, claiming to celebrate this
day with the child who does not even understand their ‘grown up’ speeches and
just enjoys the fun of being able to sing and dance, without even understanding
its history.
I do cry for the African Child
who has parents and guardians who do not even know about this day, and still
think that a child is a commodity that can be turned and twisted around any
time they feel like it. Parents and
guardians who, if reached, could make a positive change and help bring up a
generation that will be free of revenge, free of hatred and free of emptiness. A generation that would make the African
Child feel proud to be African.
I also cry for the African
Child whose celebration this year was overshadowed by another important
celebration, “Fathers’ Day”. The African
Child that couldn’t even see well-wishers posting about their day on Facebook,
Twitter and the likes. The African Child
who wasn’t even given much importance in the media outlets, other than a small
portion in the inside pages, since the story doesn’t “sell”. Yes I cry.
And as I think about children
like Andrea, I cannot stop but to wonder if we are really doing any justice to
the African Child. They deserve a lot
more, and they deserve a bigger voice. And
until something happens to give them the full attention that they deserve, I
will cry more and more. Yes, I cry for
the African Child.
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