Islamic schools are forcing young students to sacrifice classroom time so they can beg on the streets.
By Mohammed Yahya Ould Abdel Wedoud and Mohamed Foily Samba Vall for Magharebia in Nouakchott – 16/04/10
Every morning after reading the Qur'an, ten-year old Diop Samba sets off for the Mauritanian capital of Nouakchott to find anyone willing to give him loose change or perhaps a loaf of bread. The young beggar is among the al-Moudat: children who must pay for their own Islamic education.
"I have to get a certain amount of money every day; otherwise I'll infuriate my teacher, who is waiting for what I bring him. I can't return to al-Mahdhara (religious school) empty-handed, or else I'll get punished," Diop tells Magharebia.
He works all day. "I would love to play with my friends and watch TV," Diop admits, but life inside al-Mahdhara prevents it.
The little boy dressed in rags adds, "I love public schools where students carry their books and pens and spend the day in the shade, but we spend the entire day under the sun looking for money."
"My father refused to send me to those schools," Samba says. "I don't know why he did that."
There are more than 2,000 disadvantaged people in Nouakchott, according to the November 2009 census conducted by the Commission for Human Rights, Humanitarian Action and for Relations with Civil Society (CDHAHRSC).
Many are children dispatched by their religious schools to beg for alms.
Zeid Hamidoun, age 11, is another child of the al-Moudat. He dreams of one thing, he says: "to buy a bicycle and stop going to al-Mahdhara".
"My neighbors call me names that I don't like, such as 'beggar' and 'street child,'" Hamidoun tells Magharebia, his tears telling a part of his tragedy.
Sheikhs believe that the costs of religious education, such as water, electricity, food and clothes, should be borne by the little students.
"The economic resources of al-Mahdhara are very poor, and therefore, everyone is required to contribute, including the students and their families, who are usually poor," religious instructor Othman explains to Magharebia.
"Seeking knowledge needs effort. I know that there are some human rights organizations that criticize what we do, but this is not important. The goal is to serve our religion and nothing else," Othman asserts.
Like Diop and Zeid, students finish reading their Qur'anic lessons in the early morning. After a modest meal, they are sent out to the streets on an obligatory "religious mission" aimed at collecting money, food, clothes and medicines.
After spending a tough day begging, students return in the evening to al-Mahdhara to meet with their sheikhs and calculate their collections. They then enter into a profound sleep until dawn prayers begin the cycle of misery, boredom and fatigue anew.
Al-Moudat are also exposed to risks such as drug addiction and sexual exploitation. Over time, experts confirm, some of these young beggars turn into experienced thieves and land in jail.
Some families that send their children to these religious schools lack the financial resources to pay for their children's education.
Others see the schools as a character-building tradition.
Mohamed, in his fifties, has worked for two decades as a carpenter in the southern Mauritanian city of Rosso. He has five sons, four of whom were sent to a Mahdhara run by one of his relatives.
"I know that my sons have been living for the last three years under harsh conditions in al-Mahdhara," he said. "I know that they combine learning and earning money. I think that this experience will be important for their lives; it will make them stronger in the future."
"Life doesn't show mercy, and we shouldn't hide this reality from the children," he added.
The phenomenon of al-Moudat is not restricted to Mauritania, explained Siyde Mint Mohamedou, director of the government-run Child Protection and Social Integration Center. In Mauritania and elsewhere in sub-Saharan Africa, she continued, some sheikhs of al-Mahdhara say they want to disseminate Islamic culture, but do not have enough money to do it without the extra funds.
"In the end, what they do is exploit the children and expose them to risks. Mauritania doesn't accept such types of behavior."
"We're dealing with this as a dangerous phenomenon," she told Magharebia.
In many documented cases, the al-Moudat children master little other than begging and collecting food.
Under the aegis of the Social Affairs Ministry, the Child Protection Center conducted assessment tests for 70 children aged between 5-14 years. "We noted how poor their level of knowledge was," Mint Mohamedou said.
"Some of them don't even know how to read or write although they spent years in those schools. This is because those children didn't find time to learn, given that they were economically exploited on a permanent basis by their sheikhs."
To sociologist Mohamed Ould Ahmed, the phenomenon of al-Moudat is "dangerous to society and identity". The strange thing, he tells Magharebia, is that this behaviour exists at all, given that Islam "encourages abstinence and self-reliance".
"When was begging a Sharia-based principle?" Mohammed wonders.
"The government has to intervene in order to solve the problem legally, rather than economically," he maintains. "Mentalities don't change easily, especially if they derive their sanctity from religion."
For social advocates and government officials, the financial component to the problem is clear. Difficult circumstances and unemployment mean that begging is not limited to children seeking alms for their schools. Adult beggars can also be found at every traffic light and on every corner in the Mauritanian capital.
Many citizens feel helpless about remedying the miserable situation of beggars young and old.
To confront the disturbing problem, the Mauritanian government has allotted 300 million ouiguiyas (833,000 euros) to shelter and rehabilitation programs in the Nouakchott neighborhoods of Sebkha, Arafat, Elmira and elsewhere. Food, sanitation, and even income-generating activities were offered to more than 2,000 beggars.
Many quickly abandoned the shelters to go back to the Nouakchott streets.
An old beggar near the El Mina market outside a suburb of Nouakchott explained, "The authorities in Nouakchott wished to control the growing crisis of begging by making funds available, yet the sum was insufficient. I preferred to continue asking for donations. This 'job’ allows us to make ends meet."
"One who masters his work can make up to 70,000 Ouguiyas each month," another beggar confirmed.
In another attempt to quell the crisis, Mauritanian authorities launched a national initiative in February under the banner, "Fighting against begging is a contractual obligation for everyone".
As part of the major media campaign, clerics and imams appeared on national television and radio to condemn the behavior as contradictory to the teachings of Islam.
Despite wide dissemination, however, the message does not always get through.
Mohamed Abdallahi, in his sixties, has been begging for more than five years. He has no plans to quit.
"I am my family’s sole provider. I often go to Nouadhibou, and I sometimes stay one month and I often bring more than 100,000 ouguiyas."
As Abdellahi shuffles along the capital streets, he often finds himself vying with young boys dispatched by their religious schools to glean spare change from passers-by.
But his children are not among these young street urchins pleading for alms.
With money from his own begging, he tells Magharebia with pride, he is able to guarantee the education of his two sons and his two daughters.
Source: Magharebia.com
Link:
http://www.magharebia.com/cocoon/awi/xhtml1/en_GB/features/awi/reportage/2010/04/16/reportage-01.
