Most of the boys that have made it across the desert, then the Mediterranean and landed somehow in this town have had precious little schooling. To poverty and distance from school, the ones from Guinea found themselves with the added challenge of the Ebola scare and its consequences on social life. As in: eradication of all social contacts, be they schooling, games, concerts, movies – any gathering whatsoever through which contagion could spread.

Therefore, I was surprised yesterday when one of the Guinean boys said, yes, he knew all about Yaguine Koita (14 years old) and Fodé Tounkara (15) who managed to slip into the landing gear of a plane departing from Conakry in 1999 and were found dead on arrival in Brussels.Everyone his age knew about them, he said, because a Guinean singer wrote a song  about them. In his book Le sanglot de l’homme noir, Alain Mabanckou publishes the letter found on the boys and which begins with the words: “Excellences, Messieurs les membres et responsables d’Europe.”

One of the boys read the letter out loud for the others. We talked about dreams, expectations, realities. Then we played word games, in order to build up French vocabulary and ease in oral presentations.

More of same to follow this afternoon. Yesterday’s sweltering heat has switched to clouds and cool air.

Writing. Yes, most of it in manuscript form at the moment. Pieces of a puzzle. First: make the pieces. Then: slow assembly. Eventually: discover what the puzzle is about.