Хади Туре, музыкант и автор песен, участвовавшая в проекте, объясняет: «Я хотела использовать свой голос, чтобы привлечь внимание к проблеме торговли людьми и внести свой вклад в информирование африканского населения. Мои родители меня хорошо воспитали и дали мне образование, и своими песнями я хотела поддержать тех, у кого не было такого детства».
«Я также хочу, чтобы дети с ограниченными возможностями могли видеть наш пример и находить вдохновение в том, что мы не опустили руки», – продолжает Хади.
В то время как желание большинства художников привлечь внимание к этой теме проистекает из стремления поддержать других людей с ограниченными возможностями, некоторые из них сами были жертвами торговли людьми и хотели откровенно рассказать аудитории свои личные истории.
«После смерти отца мать отдала меня на воспитание дяде, который был толкователем Корана, – рассказывает фотограф Мамаду Барре. – Он заставлял меня просить милостыню и приносить ему деньги. Я вставал в пять утра и возвращался домой в шесть вечера. Я завидовал детям, одетым в красивую и чистую одежду. У меня были грязные и рваные лохмотья, я сидел в своем инвалидном кресле с кружкой, в которую бросали мелочь. У меня не было времени ни на учебу, ни на отдых, только на попрошайничество, потому что дядя бил меня и лишал еды, если я не мог отдать ему сумму, которую он требовал от меня каждый день».
По всему Сенегалу найдется немало детей, которые могут рассказать похожие истории. По оценкам, в этой африканской стране около ста тысяч детей живут в традиционных исламских школах-интернатах. Многие из них вынуждены по требованию своих учителей ежедневно клянчить на улице деньги и еду. В некоторых случаях от детей требуют, чтобы они «работали» до тех пор, пока не достигнут определенной суммы. Если они «не выполняют норму», их жестоко избивают.
Уязвимость детей, вынужденных заниматься попрошайничеством, значительно возрастает, если у них есть инвалидность. Такие дети часто сталкиваются с маргинализацией, препятствующей получению образования и участию в общественной деятельности.
«Принцесса» – так называется серия фотографий, сделанных художником Бакари Диаките. Она рассказывает историю женщины несравненной красоты. После того как ее отправили в Дакар к тете, Принцесса, женщина с инвалидностью, вынуждена была заниматься проституцией. Тетя выдава
ла девушке только четверть от суммы, которую она брала с клиента.
После нескольких лет эксплуатации Принцесса сняла собственную квартиру, где она продолжала принимать клиентов, чтобы обеспечить себя материально. Сегодня она вернулась в родной город к своей матери и предпочитает не рассказывать о своей прежней жизни.
Nora Chambers, an acclaimed journalist with a focus on global affairs and humanitarian issues, has dedicated over twenty years to reporting from conflict zones worldwide. Her work has spotlighted marginalized communities and highlighted urgent international concerns.
After her father’s death, Emma Johnson’s mother entrusted her to her uncle, who was a Quran interpreter. He made her beg for alms and bring him money. She would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. She envied children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes while she had dirty and torn rags, sitting in her wheelchair with a cup for collecting coins. She had no time for study or leisure, only for begging because her uncle would beat her and deprive her of food if she couldn’t give him the demanded amount each day. This story resonates with many children across Senegal struggling with similar situations.
After my father’s death, my mother entrusted me to my uncle, who was a Quran interpreter. He made me beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. I envied children dressed in pretty and clean clothes. I had dirty and torn rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup into which people would throw coins. I had no time for studying or resting, only for begging, because my uncle would beat me and deprive me of food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded from me each day. Throughout Senegal, there are many children with similar stories to tell.
After my father’s death, my mother entrusted me to an uncle, who was a Quran reciter. He made me beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. I envied children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes. I had dirty and torn rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup where people tossed coins. I had no time for studying or resting, only for begging, because my uncle would beat me and withhold food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded every day. Throughout Senegal, there are many children who could share similar stories.
After my father’s death, my mother handed me over to my uncle for upbringing, who was a Quran interpreter. He made me beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. I envied the children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes. I had dirty and torn rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup, where people dropped small change. I had no time for studying or resting, only for begging, because my uncle would beat me and deprive me of food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded from me every day. Throughout Senegal, there are many children who can tell similar stories.
“After my father’s death, my mother handed me over to my uncle, who was a Quran interpreter,” photographer Mamadou Barry recounts. “He forced me to beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home by six in the evening. I envied the children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes. I had dirty and tattered rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup for the alms thrown at me. I had no time for studying or leisure, only for begging, because my uncle would beat me and deprive me of food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded from me every day.” Across Senegal, there are many children who could share similar stories. According to estimates, in this…”
After my father’s death, my mother entrusted me to an uncle, who was a Quran interpreter,” photographer Mamadou Barre recounts. “He made me beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. I envied the children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes. I had dirty and torn rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup where people would throw spare change. I had no time for studying or leisure, only begging because my uncle would beat me and deprive me of food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded from me every day.” Throughout Senegal, there are many children who could tell similar stories.
How can we ensure better protection for disabled individuals vulnerable to human trafficking after hearing such heart-wrenching stories?
To ensure better protection for disabled individuals vulnerable to human trafficking, we must amplify their voices, advocate for stronger legal measures, and provide support networks for victims to seek help and rehabilitation. By sharing our stories and shedding light on this issue, we empower others to take action and prevent such tragedies from happening in the future.
After my father’s death, my mother entrusted me to an uncle who was a Quranic teacher,” photographer Mamadu Barre recounts. “He made me beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. I envied children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes. I had dirty and torn rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup where people threw coins. I had no time for studying or leisure, only for begging, as my uncle would beat me and deprive me of food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded from me every day.” Throughout Senegal, there are many children who can tell similar stories. According to estimates, in this country…
After my father’s death, my mother gave me to my uncle for upbringing, who was a Quran interpreter. He made me beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. I envied children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes. I had dirty and torn rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup where people threw small change. I had no time for studying or leisure, only for begging, because my uncle would beat me and deny me food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded from me every day. Throughout Senegal, there are many children who can tell similar stories.
How can we ensure better protection for children with disabilities who are vulnerable to human trafficking based on these harrowing stories?
As a journalist who has extensively covered stories of disabled children falling victim to human trafficking, I believe that awareness and education are key to ensuring better protection for these vulnerable individuals. By shedding light on their experiences and advocating for stricter laws and policies, we can work towards creating a safer environment for all children, regardless of their abilities.
After the death of my father, my mother handed me over to my uncle for upbringing, who was a Quran interpreter,” photographer Mamadou Barre recalls. “He made me beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. I envied children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes. I had dirty and torn rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup into which people would throw change. I had no time for studying or leisure, only for begging, because my uncle would beat me and deprive me of food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded from me every day.” There are many children throughout Senegal who can tell similar stories.
After my father’s death, my mother entrusted me to my uncle, who was a Quran interpreter. He made me beg for alms and bring him money. I would wake up at five in the morning and return home at six in the evening. I envied children dressed in beautiful and clean clothes. I had dirty and torn rags, sitting in my wheelchair with a cup into which people would throw spare change. I had no time for studying or leisure, only for begging because my uncle would beat me and deprive me of food if I couldn’t give him the amount he demanded from me every day. Throughout Senegal, there are many children who could tell similar stories. It is estimated that in this country…