In Senegal, NGOs and government work to eliminate the cutting and removal of women’s genitalia by Jennifer Lazuta Marieme Bamba, a 57-year-old solar engineer, said she was just a “young girl” when her genitalia were cut, maybe seven or eight years old. “Because of the practice, there are two painful events that I will not be able to forget for the rest of my life,” Ms Bamba said. “The first was the day I was cut—I felt intense pain for more than two days and had difficulty urinating.” The second was the day of her marriage, at age 14. “The…
Jennifer Lazuta
Senegal’s Quranic students beg to learn The government struggles to balance Muslim values with protecting children “Sarakh, sarakh,” demands a barefoot child wearing a dirty, torn Pokémon t-shirt and oversized cargo pants held up with a scrap of rope. He holds out his hand to passersby on a busy street in Senegal’s capital city, Dakar. “Sarakh, sarakh,” he repeats. “Charity, please give me charity,” he is saying in the Wolof language. A man drops a coin into the tomato sauce can that hangs around the boy’s neck. The boy glances down, and then moves towards a taxi that has just…
Illegal and unreported fishing threatens West Africa’s seas by Jennifer Lazuta Large foreign trawlers are sweeping West Africa’s seabed, undermining the environment, reducing fish stock and destroying the livelihoods of artisanal fishermen. Issa Diene, 39, is one of thousands of Senegalese fishermen who face tough times in competing with the giant commercial boats. For the past 10 years, he has risen before dawn and set out in his 30-foot wooden pirogue to catch fish off the coast of Dakar, Senegal’s capital. A few hours later he would return to sell his catch at the midday fish market. But recently, poor…
Republic of Congo’s tiny middle Everyone is poor in this small oil-producing country; the middle class are less so Casimir Yoka sits on a plastic lawn chair outside his home in Pointe-Noire, Republic of Congo’s economic capital on the South Atlantic Ocean. The 52-year-old stock manager works at the nearby port and makes no apologies for the small tumbler of whisky that sits at his feet. It is Sunday, his day off. In the corner of his sandy courtyard, which has been fenced off with sheets of scrap metal, Mr Yoka’s wife scrubs some plastic dishes in a bucket, left…
