From the archives - Fatim story part II
Originally published September 28, 2005.
(I didn't have blogger back then!)
Dear friends,
Six months ago, I wrote to you to tell you the story of a little girl “possessed” by mysterious devils. The last I told many of you was that Fatim (pronounced Fa - teem) would fall to the ground, possessed by a reality that she accepted and that the society reinforced. Me, I was at a complete loss as to how to help Fatim; this was someone who I had known for 7 years, who was honest and a simple joy to be around, and this was difficult.
Since then, I have been unable to write with any real concrete news about her – until today. What makes today different than any other day in the last six months? Let me explain (the long version - sorry, short version not available in e-edition)…
Shortly after I wrote that last letter, Fatim showed significant signs of improvement in her health. She was returning back to normal and after a short time, I could invite her places or over to my house without fearing another possessed “fall.” She was determined to go back to school, and after spring break, she was back in the classroom.
That was in April – I was planning to leave Guinea in just a few months. What could I possibly do for Fatim to leave her in good hands? I couldn’t take her with me. I was planning to be working in Chad, another African country, and I could not take care of her with me working all of the time and traveling from time to time.
“Fatim,” I asked, “What would you think if I sent you to a boarding school – probably not in Guinea, but in Senegal or Mali?” As I mentioned before, the education in Guinea is very poor, and the education level of my family is very poor, so I thought it best to take her out of there and allow her just to come back for a visit during the summers.
Immediately, she responded yes. I picked up the phone and dialed my friend in Dakar, Senegal, with whom Fatim stayed for 6 weeks in the summer of 2004, to see if she knew of any good schools where Fatim could go. To my excitement, not only did she suggest a good school, but Fatim would not have to stay in a boarding school, but could live with her family. This was great news, I thought. But of course, I had to get permission from Fatim’s family, my host family in Guinea.
The following two months or so was a difficult time for me. We flip-flopped back and forth on Fatim’s status. In Guinean society, the only person’s judgment that counts is the father’s, and he told me in front of Fatim that she could go to Senegal to study. Then, suddenly, Fatim changed her mind. She no longer wanted to go. This angered her father.
Even though the father technically had the final say-so, I wouldn’t take action unless Fatim accepted and the family agreed as a whole. The aunts with whom Fatim lived were worried about her sickness. You see, even though I thought that she had been cured, the truth was that she was still having episodes.
At the same time, the father and the aunts were feuding among themselves. This arguments did not stem from this particular episode, but rather from differences between them and it had been going on for several months. I was getting sick of this feud and told Fatim that I felt that they were using her as a soccer ball, using her to score their own goals against the “other team," and certain that the family situation was affecting her ability to speak out and make a decision. By the sisters, the brother was newly married and accused of supporting his in-laws and not his own family. The sisters were accused of being dishonest and out to ruin their brother's name.
This put Fatim into a situation that I never intended to launch a 13-year old into. She was seemingly being torn into two directions by warring factions in the family. Whatever her reasons were for saying that she no longer wanted to go away to study, I had to respect this. But never did I hear any convincing argument as to why she felt she shouldn’t go, so I pushed on.
Now within two weeks of my leaving the country, the first thing I did, at the father’s recommendation, was to call a family meeting. The meeting was at a respected man’s house from the village – his name is Sekou Bembeya, also known as “Diamond Fingers” after his guitar playing ability and his popularity as the guitarist of the national orchestra the Bembeya Jazz. “My father helped this family whenever they had problems, I suppose it is my turn now,” he told me. The second thing that I did was write to the Guinean woman who I call mom and send her money to come immediately to the capital. I hoped that she could help improve relations within the family.
The meeting had two topics of discussion, and first on the list was Fatim. She was not really allowed to give her opinion or speak, but it was decided that she would go. First, though, she would seek treatment in the village for her sickness. The second part of the meeting was related to the fight in the family between brother and sisters. Within one hour, peace agreements had been formulated and the warring parties were found dining at the same table (my table, as a matter of fact). The unfortunate part of the meeting was that the family continued to “kick” Fatim around, and she “fell” into her possessed state.
It is hard to understand (what does one understand in such a different culture), but what prompted her to “fall” during that meeting seems so mean-spirited that I can’t imagine it – or couldn’t until I heard it. You see, Fatim was left fatherless when she was too young to remember. She has adopted her uncle as her father and he is the only father she knows now. During the meeting, the aunt turned to her and said to her “What did my sister say to you? That your father is dead, he is dead and if you want me to, I will go and show you his grave!”
The flip-flop continued the next day, as Fatim told me she still did not want to go. With this, I went to the family – perhaps I asked them to help me talk to her first, I don’t remember. Eventually, I went there and sat down Fatim and her family. I told them that they should find a good school for Fatim – a good public school. I told them that as long as she remained in Guinea, I would not be able to support her education, manage her money, know how she was doing, or anything. I had tried everything by this point and nothing was working, and so I left the decision with the family and said should they change their mind, I was around for another 10 days or so.
The next day, everyone had changed their mind. “Fatim is going to Senegal to study.” I turned to look at Fatim “Yes, it’s true,” she said. I sat stupefied. What had changed since yesterday? I never did figure out the answer, except that putting the ball into their court really worked and maybe I had been trying too hard to control the situation.
In any case, the family made plans to send Fatim to the village for treatment after my departure. The treatment would be supervised by a witchdoctor and would consist of many prayers and sacrifices of goats, sheep, and chickens to chase away the demon. I tried to talk them out of this, but the family believed this the only way. The treatment was scheduled to last one month. This was in June.
Last week, Fatim came back from the village, apparently cured from her illness. With much assistance from a colleague there, she got her ticket and last night, she landed at Dakar’s Yoff International Airport. Tomorrow morning, she will leave with my Senegalese friend Jeanne to a city about 40 miles from the capital, which will be her new home for the next nine months. No tears, she claimed. She is very happy to be where she is now.
I know there are many sappy clichés floating around out there about the “life of a child,” particularly when UNICEF or Save the Children are doing their fundraising. (Can you name other UN organizations or non-governmental organizations? – I think these are among the most well known in the US). There is something attractive about children (more than food, it seems!). Its human nature to want to have an impact on someone’s life; it keeps us “alive” even when we are gone. And children are the most impressionable and absorb so much of what we give them. I have given what I know how to give, and now I continue to pray for the best.
Love,
Aaron
(I didn't have blogger back then!)
Dear friends,
Six months ago, I wrote to you to tell you the story of a little girl “possessed” by mysterious devils. The last I told many of you was that Fatim (pronounced Fa - teem) would fall to the ground, possessed by a reality that she accepted and that the society reinforced. Me, I was at a complete loss as to how to help Fatim; this was someone who I had known for 7 years, who was honest and a simple joy to be around, and this was difficult.
Since then, I have been unable to write with any real concrete news about her – until today. What makes today different than any other day in the last six months? Let me explain (the long version - sorry, short version not available in e-edition)…
Shortly after I wrote that last letter, Fatim showed significant signs of improvement in her health. She was returning back to normal and after a short time, I could invite her places or over to my house without fearing another possessed “fall.” She was determined to go back to school, and after spring break, she was back in the classroom.
That was in April – I was planning to leave Guinea in just a few months. What could I possibly do for Fatim to leave her in good hands? I couldn’t take her with me. I was planning to be working in Chad, another African country, and I could not take care of her with me working all of the time and traveling from time to time.
“Fatim,” I asked, “What would you think if I sent you to a boarding school – probably not in Guinea, but in Senegal or Mali?” As I mentioned before, the education in Guinea is very poor, and the education level of my family is very poor, so I thought it best to take her out of there and allow her just to come back for a visit during the summers.
Immediately, she responded yes. I picked up the phone and dialed my friend in Dakar, Senegal, with whom Fatim stayed for 6 weeks in the summer of 2004, to see if she knew of any good schools where Fatim could go. To my excitement, not only did she suggest a good school, but Fatim would not have to stay in a boarding school, but could live with her family. This was great news, I thought. But of course, I had to get permission from Fatim’s family, my host family in Guinea.
The following two months or so was a difficult time for me. We flip-flopped back and forth on Fatim’s status. In Guinean society, the only person’s judgment that counts is the father’s, and he told me in front of Fatim that she could go to Senegal to study. Then, suddenly, Fatim changed her mind. She no longer wanted to go. This angered her father.
Even though the father technically had the final say-so, I wouldn’t take action unless Fatim accepted and the family agreed as a whole. The aunts with whom Fatim lived were worried about her sickness. You see, even though I thought that she had been cured, the truth was that she was still having episodes.
At the same time, the father and the aunts were feuding among themselves. This arguments did not stem from this particular episode, but rather from differences between them and it had been going on for several months. I was getting sick of this feud and told Fatim that I felt that they were using her as a soccer ball, using her to score their own goals against the “other team," and certain that the family situation was affecting her ability to speak out and make a decision. By the sisters, the brother was newly married and accused of supporting his in-laws and not his own family. The sisters were accused of being dishonest and out to ruin their brother's name.
This put Fatim into a situation that I never intended to launch a 13-year old into. She was seemingly being torn into two directions by warring factions in the family. Whatever her reasons were for saying that she no longer wanted to go away to study, I had to respect this. But never did I hear any convincing argument as to why she felt she shouldn’t go, so I pushed on.
Now within two weeks of my leaving the country, the first thing I did, at the father’s recommendation, was to call a family meeting. The meeting was at a respected man’s house from the village – his name is Sekou Bembeya, also known as “Diamond Fingers” after his guitar playing ability and his popularity as the guitarist of the national orchestra the Bembeya Jazz. “My father helped this family whenever they had problems, I suppose it is my turn now,” he told me. The second thing that I did was write to the Guinean woman who I call mom and send her money to come immediately to the capital. I hoped that she could help improve relations within the family.
The meeting had two topics of discussion, and first on the list was Fatim. She was not really allowed to give her opinion or speak, but it was decided that she would go. First, though, she would seek treatment in the village for her sickness. The second part of the meeting was related to the fight in the family between brother and sisters. Within one hour, peace agreements had been formulated and the warring parties were found dining at the same table (my table, as a matter of fact). The unfortunate part of the meeting was that the family continued to “kick” Fatim around, and she “fell” into her possessed state.
It is hard to understand (what does one understand in such a different culture), but what prompted her to “fall” during that meeting seems so mean-spirited that I can’t imagine it – or couldn’t until I heard it. You see, Fatim was left fatherless when she was too young to remember. She has adopted her uncle as her father and he is the only father she knows now. During the meeting, the aunt turned to her and said to her “What did my sister say to you? That your father is dead, he is dead and if you want me to, I will go and show you his grave!”
The flip-flop continued the next day, as Fatim told me she still did not want to go. With this, I went to the family – perhaps I asked them to help me talk to her first, I don’t remember. Eventually, I went there and sat down Fatim and her family. I told them that they should find a good school for Fatim – a good public school. I told them that as long as she remained in Guinea, I would not be able to support her education, manage her money, know how she was doing, or anything. I had tried everything by this point and nothing was working, and so I left the decision with the family and said should they change their mind, I was around for another 10 days or so.
The next day, everyone had changed their mind. “Fatim is going to Senegal to study.” I turned to look at Fatim “Yes, it’s true,” she said. I sat stupefied. What had changed since yesterday? I never did figure out the answer, except that putting the ball into their court really worked and maybe I had been trying too hard to control the situation.
In any case, the family made plans to send Fatim to the village for treatment after my departure. The treatment would be supervised by a witchdoctor and would consist of many prayers and sacrifices of goats, sheep, and chickens to chase away the demon. I tried to talk them out of this, but the family believed this the only way. The treatment was scheduled to last one month. This was in June.
Last week, Fatim came back from the village, apparently cured from her illness. With much assistance from a colleague there, she got her ticket and last night, she landed at Dakar’s Yoff International Airport. Tomorrow morning, she will leave with my Senegalese friend Jeanne to a city about 40 miles from the capital, which will be her new home for the next nine months. No tears, she claimed. She is very happy to be where she is now.
I know there are many sappy clichés floating around out there about the “life of a child,” particularly when UNICEF or Save the Children are doing their fundraising. (Can you name other UN organizations or non-governmental organizations? – I think these are among the most well known in the US). There is something attractive about children (more than food, it seems!). Its human nature to want to have an impact on someone’s life; it keeps us “alive” even when we are gone. And children are the most impressionable and absorb so much of what we give them. I have given what I know how to give, and now I continue to pray for the best.
Love,
Aaron
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