Katic Wallah is separated by a river from Gbainty Wallah, which hosts Kankaylay Islamic Agricultural Secondary School, the only school for the surrounding villages. The children of Katic – around 80 in total – must cross the Gbainty-Katic River daily, a journey fraught with danger.
Umar is the youngest of my cousins. He was diagnosed with autism towards the end of nursery, and nobody knew how it might impact his life. All we hoped was that that bright-eyed, curious child would stay bright-eyed and curious. As it turns out, he has been one of the luckier ones.
When I was 7 years old, my science teacher often stood in front of the class and imitated how I walked. As a result, my classmates would laugh at me. No one comfortably shared a seat with me or played with me. Some believed I would pass on my disability to them.
Our Classrooms Are Broken – But Our Dreams Are Not
“They value knowledge differently,” says Fátima, looking at her students as the rain pounds the tin roof. “Here, they don’t come just to learn. They come to change their history.”
For many refugee women, escaping war is only the beginning of their journey to freedom. Even after reaching safety, the struggle continues in many forms: isolation, financial hardship, cultural barriers and the emotional weight of starting life from nothing.
Where I live is like a jail, but it isn’t a jail. More than one million Rohingya people live in the refugee camp in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. This is the place we have called home for the past eight years.
How Two Teachers Are Giving Hope To Rural Children
At 23 years old, Ana gets ready every morning, full of motivation to welcome her students to the computer lab. The morning mist that clings to the coffee plantations endlessly across the hillsides bears witness to the route that the children walk every day to get to El Faro school, in the community of Cañas Verdes.
