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In Senegal's fertile southern enclave of Casamance, almost three decades of separatist fighting by splintered rebel groups have periodically disrupted cultivation of the cashew and groundnut cash crops, markets and schools.
Despite a week-long military offensive in Senegal against suspected rebel bases in Ziguinchor, 464km south of the capital, Dakar, most schools are still open. "The rockets pass over our heads and the military shoots near our school," said Pape Mar Ndao, 13, a student in the southern part of the city.
"Bullets fired from the bush often fall beside us, we cannot study under these conditions - we want a solution for our safety. And, pending that, we prefer them to suspend classes altogether," he told IRIN.
"Our principal asked us to go home whenever the situation becomes dangerous, but that does not put us in security because a shell can fall on us at any time."
Six-year old peace talks have led to lulls in the fighting, interspersed with mine explosions and attacks on villagers.
Here are some of the voices from areas hit by a week of fighting:
Adama Danfa, student, Kenya secondary school, southern Ziguinchor
"We have not studied anything for the past week since the shooting began [mid-March]. We are constantly scared. Me, personally, when I get home, I cannot even eat and am psychologically worn out.
"I can no longer learn my lessons at home, and when I go to bed, I do not sleep. Sometimes I seem to hear [grenade] shells. After nightfall, nobody dares to move into our neighbourhood. The area becomes a ghost town after 8 p.m."
Charles Mané, principal, Kenya school
"If the shooting begins I am obliged to immediately release the students as a precaution. And also, as soon as they hear the shots, they panic and there are screams everywhere - they start shaking. We cannot teach under these conditions; even teachers panic.
"Every day I evaluate the situation to make a decision [about holding classes that day]. The current situation is very worrisome, because the school year may be disrupted. If the fighting continues, it is certain that we can not reach the [amount of] classroom time required to save the academic year."
Marie Françoise Niouki, cashew farmer, widowed mother of five
"In this neighbourhood, people live from products that come from the bush. If we do not make it out there, we do not eat. And with the fighting these past ten days, we dare not venture there. Therefore, we eat with great difficulty, and most families in this area are no longer able to get by on just one meal a day.
"This is especially felt by our children, who must go to school. But even more serious is that we do not even know if we can grow our cashews. It is pretty sure that this year's crop is compromised because the [cashew] nuts have begun to ripen, and nobody knows when the fighting will stop.
"Even if the fighting stopped, there are risks of mines. And a year without selling cashews means a disaster for us ... I have an orchard of cashew trees in the bush, miles from here. It is with that income that I manage to take care of my five children, whose father is dead."
Françoise Kouka, firewood seller
"We can no longer go into the bush to look for charcoal or firewood to sell at the market in Ziguinchor to buy a few kilograms of rice to take home. Today [23 March], with nothing at home, I will go to the other side of town to see if I can get some vegetables from a relative to sell at the market. Or, if I see the situation is calm on this side [eastern outskirts], I will go into the bush to cut some firewood."
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Despite a week-long military offensive in Senegal against suspected rebel bases in Ziguinchor, 464km south of the capital, Dakar, most schools are still open. "The rockets pass over our heads and the military shoots near our school," said Pape Mar Ndao, 13, a student in the southern part of the city.
"Bullets fired from the bush often fall beside us, we cannot study under these conditions - we want a solution for our safety. And, pending that, we prefer them to suspend classes altogether," he told IRIN.
"Our principal asked us to go home whenever the situation becomes dangerous, but that does not put us in security because a shell can fall on us at any time."
Photo: Mamadou Alpha Diallo/IRIN  |
| Students Adama Danfa and Pape Mar Ndao |
Here are some of the voices from areas hit by a week of fighting:
Adama Danfa, student, Kenya secondary school, southern Ziguinchor
"We have not studied anything for the past week since the shooting began [mid-March]. We are constantly scared. Me, personally, when I get home, I cannot even eat and am psychologically worn out.
"I can no longer learn my lessons at home, and when I go to bed, I do not sleep. Sometimes I seem to hear [grenade] shells. After nightfall, nobody dares to move into our neighbourhood. The area becomes a ghost town after 8 p.m."
|
Photo: Mamadou Alpha Diallo/IRIN |
| Principal Charles Mané in southern Ziguinchor, Casamance region |
"If the shooting begins I am obliged to immediately release the students as a precaution. And also, as soon as they hear the shots, they panic and there are screams everywhere - they start shaking. We cannot teach under these conditions; even teachers panic.
"Every day I evaluate the situation to make a decision [about holding classes that day]. The current situation is very worrisome, because the school year may be disrupted. If the fighting continues, it is certain that we can not reach the [amount of] classroom time required to save the academic year."
Marie Françoise Niouki, cashew farmer, widowed mother of five
|
Photo: Mamadou Alpha Diallo/IRIN |
| Cashew farmer Marie Françoise Niouki |
"This is especially felt by our children, who must go to school. But even more serious is that we do not even know if we can grow our cashews. It is pretty sure that this year's crop is compromised because the [cashew] nuts have begun to ripen, and nobody knows when the fighting will stop.
"Even if the fighting stopped, there are risks of mines. And a year without selling cashews means a disaster for us ... I have an orchard of cashew trees in the bush, miles from here. It is with that income that I manage to take care of my five children, whose father is dead."
|
Photo: Mamadou Alpha Diallo/IRIN |
| Vendor Françoise Kouka |
"We can no longer go into the bush to look for charcoal or firewood to sell at the market in Ziguinchor to buy a few kilograms of rice to take home. Today [23 March], with nothing at home, I will go to the other side of town to see if I can get some vegetables from a relative to sell at the market. Or, if I see the situation is calm on this side [eastern outskirts], I will go into the bush to cut some firewood."
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This article was produced by IRIN News while it was part of the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. Please send queries on copyright or liability to the UN. For more information: https://shop.un.org/rights-permissions
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