Stopping to take a closer look: Niger street children & beggars

I can remember one of the first days we were in Ghana, pushing beggar children off of me, as I gently but steadily wove past them, without giving a single thought to their stories.

After spotting their beautiful caramel complexions at three main intersections throughout Accra, they began weighing on my heart and something nudged me to take a deeper look. It was like a curious craving. They are humans, too, they have emotions, they have a story, they have a heart, a family, a purpose.

Curiosity flooded me with questions as I wondered...How much money do they make each day? What country are they from? What routes do they take? Where are their parents? What are their parents like and what do they do? Is there anyway for these children to escape street begging? Could they be in school? Why did they come to Ghana? I wanted to know every story, every detail. I wanted to take a deeper look into their lives the next time I saw them, rather than pushing them off of me and pushing them to the side, like everyone else here does everyday.

I realized--this is exactly what journalists do. They cross paths with something or someone, grow anxious with curiosity, research and investigate their questions, then present or share what they have learned with others. I could do the same thing! It would just take a little planning and researching on my part, an initiative to investigate, patience while digging for their stories, and an open-mind and an open heart.

As a side-note to my readers: There is a population of street children beggars here in Accra that tug on your hands, your arms, and your legs, as you walk across certain intersections. They are in no way harmful, they never attempt to steal nor hurt, but they simply motion to their mouths, as if saying, "I'm hungry. I need money to eat." They speak very little English. They have the most beautiful caramel skin that you've ever seen in your entire life and they have the sweetest, most innocent eyes. I heard rumors that they were from Chad or Sudan. They are essentially the "untouchables" here. No one seems to want anything to do with them, and the majority of people, like I did, just look the other way. And, no "Obruni" (white-person/foreigner) nor Ghanaian, seems to really know their story, so I wanted to dive in--personally.

I don't have classes on Mondays, so I was determined to make the most of my free day. Callie and I woke up and set out on an early morning journey to find some of the beggar street children. Our destination: the intersection near the Accra mall (the perfect place to beg shoppers and foreigners for money).

Callie and I were both pretty nervous, hearts beating, palms sweating, unsure of what to expect, unsure of how to approach the beggars if we saw them. I sent up many prayers last night and this morning, for safety and for our journey to go well, and it turned out--our experience It could not have gone any better.

After jumping out of a tro-tro, Callie and I looked around, through the cars and across the jammed intersection, scanning for at least one caramel complexion. Nothing. We figured, "This would happen. The one day that we're actually SEARCHING, rather than avoiding these children, we cannot find them." Then all of a sudden, I spotted one in the distance. I spotted a tiny light-skinned girl, with the most beautiful charcoal macaroni locks (the first girl pictured at the top of this entry). She could not have been any older than 3 or 4 years old, which meant that her parents or guardians could not be far away.

Callie and I waited patiently, canvassing the area, trying at all costs to not look too suspicious or in any way imposing--as the last thing we wanted to do was to lose their trust. We asked some of the Ghanaians that were walking by if they knew anything about the beggars. Callie and I gathered mixed answers---according to the pedestrians, they claimed the children were from Sudan or Chad. One lady said with much hostility, "They just come here and they beg. They wouldn't work even if they were given a job." Many Ghanaian opinions and points of views were unleashed, as we tried to gather answers, but were based on little experience or concrete evidence.

After asking Sarah, a friendly Ghanaian passerby, about where the childrens' parents were, she pointed to a distant tree saying, "They're lying down over there." I was shocked. I hadn't even noticed their parents. I had been wondering where they were, hoping to earn their trust first for permission to photograph, and eager to learn their stories (hoping the parents would be able to muster a tad more English than their children).

Callie and I gave each of the children money , in sight of their parents, hoping it would open a window of trust and opportunity (something that Sarah suggested we might do). A man, wrapped in a white turban, made his way to Callie and I, after seeing us interact with his children. I extended him a friendly handshake and told him how beautiful his children were. He gave us permission to photograph his children, and openly talked to us in fragmented and broken English.

After taking photos of the children, I was still curious about the rest of the children, the families, and especially curious about the other two people lying under the tree. After we talked to Mohammed, the name of the father who approached us, he held his children's hands and walked back to where he came from, under the tree.

Callie and I really wanted to walk over to the tree, but contemplated whether we should or not. We did, and it was our first step inside their world...

We wondered "Why would they ever put their children up to begging on the streets?" But after some research, it seems that perhaps they were only trying to seek a more promising life?

When talking to one of the mothers, she told us that they "don't like it here", because the Ghanaians allegedly dislike her (the Niger) people. Just during the short time we were talking with the woman, a man passed by and shouted at us for talking to her. The woman sweetly said, "Don't mind him, they just don't like us."

The Niger beggars' eyes lit up when we approached them and asked them questions (even if they only halfway understood what we were asking), as if we had been the first people to show them affection in a long time. I honestly expected them to be a lot more closed-off and threatening, after all, we were two white American girls with a camera and a notebook in hand--but they were patient, and willing to share what they could articulate into words, with open arms (even though the time we spent with them, meant precious begging time that was slipping away).

After talking to the three men under the tree, and showing them the photos (they were thrilled), we learned that they are Muslims from Niger that speak Hausa. They speak very little English, no Twi, and no French. They did not go to school, and neither (as far as we know) do their children.

At lunch, Callie and I met up with Kenz and Maggie. We shared in a beautiful conversation about the Niger people in Ghana over (our first-time-ever-in-Ghana) cappuccinos.

I'm not sure what my intention or aim of this project or investigation is, but I stepped back and thought about it front a journalist's point of view. Considering it from a journalist's point of view gave me courage. A journalist wouldn't step back, or avoid a story just because it was "too personal" or "too controversial". That would in fact, many times, be the fuel for a story. I also considered for a moment, "What is a journalist's aim? What does a journalist intend to accomplish through the presentation of his/her article or piece of news?" Surely every story cannot be the attempt to propose some sort of systematic or long-term, revolutionary solution.

I think in undertaking a project/story, that I often aspire to seek some sort of visionary, life-changing answer, which I struggled with in pursuing this particular story. But, like I told the girls today at lunch, if nothing else comes out of this other than the mere lesson that we should all open our eyes and our hearts a little more--to take a deeper look into the lives around us, or to dissipate our judgments and stereotypes of other people, other cultures, to look closer--if even one person is able to see that lesson through this story, then it will have been well worth it. And even if no one else take that away, I will at least have been changed because of the experience and will hopefully become a more open-minded and a less-quick-to-judge person because of it.

I have no idea where this project will go, where it might take me, nor what I will learn. I hope to find a translator (who speaks Hausa) and I hope to develop relationships with these people with our time left in Ghana. After asking her how much money they get per day, the woman beggar said that they only get enough to cover their food expenses each day. I can envision sharing a meal with these people one afternoon, with food bringing us together, sharing stories and smiles, under the tree. I hope to dedicate a few days to going around Accra, in search of these Niger street children and beggars, exploring their stories.

Their clothes were tattered, dust caked on their faces, with their dark hair exposing tiny sugar crystals of dandruff on their heads. A few of the children carried money purses around their necks, under their clothes, discretely depositing into it the small coins they received.

The thing with their story is--is that there is no easy answer. Their lives are probably not going to change instantly because of anything I do, or this story does, but this story serves as an example of the importance of a solid infrastructure, the power of a stable, and equal-opportunity education system.

Although people in the US constantly criticize the American public education system, at least it is (nearly) mandatory and the majority of children (ideally, although perhaps not realistically) have access to an "equal opportunity to (public) education".

I was researching Niger street beggars in Ghana today, and I had no idea, but apparently Niger is one of the poorest and least developed countries in the world. Over 80% of its territory is covered by the Sahara desert (it is a landlocked country and was named after the Niger River). Niger's economy is focused around "subsistence agriculture and export of uranium ore, and remains handicapped by the country's landlocked position, shortage of skilled professionals, corruption and internal instability."

One statistic said that in Niger, one of the poorest countries in the world, "two-thirds of children under the age of 14 work." This statistic spurs many questions. What kind of work? Is this under-reported? It also raised questions of child trafficking, prostitution, and cheap or even unpaid (can you imagine that there is still slavery within Africa?) labor.

Though Ghana is a developing nation, with a poor standard of living, it nevertheless attracts beggars from bordering countries, who are seeking "greener pastures". According to one online news article, "The Caucasian-colored people from Chad and Niger can be found in almost all of the streets of Accra with an effort of earning a sort of income. According to most of them, the standard of living is very high in their countries, so they trek from country to country in search for a better life."

The same article noted, "The United Nations(UN)produces an annual 'Human Development Index', which assigns a score to each nation based on three broad sets of indicators: health and longevity, knowledge and education, and standard of living measured by purchasing power. By these measures, the UN has described Niger in West Africa as the worst place to live in the world, as the life expectancy is 44.6 years, 71 percent of adults are illiterate and 79 percent of children don't go to school."

Ideally, I plan on creating a multimedia project with more research and personal interviews, with the final product being composed of still images, audio, music, translated text, and possibly video or music.