If only you followed the route to school, you would understand …
it’s 7:45 am in Somone, a small fishing village in Senegal. In a few moments the bell of the school will ring, which in fact is neither a bell, nor an alarm, nor a recording, nor a call, it is the whistle which sounds every morning at eight o’clock.
On the way, we meet the children of the village. They make a stop at the district shop, buy a packet of biscuits, doughnuts or, more often, a piece of bread.
On the same road, there are a few luxurious cars. But also a cart! This cart, which earlier transported dried herbs, is now carrying something precious: a CP class student, a smile on the lips appears when her class mate is lowered from a SUV car. It is hand in hand that they walk into the school premises.
This is what we see on the way to school.
Neither black, nor white, simply children of Senegal or from further away, from here and there.
Neither rich, nor poor, simply children with a school bag.
Neither a son of a fisherman, nor girl of an expat engineer, simply children of the Kalan School.
It is 8am, the school day begins at Kalan with all these diversities.
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