Bikima Ag Ibnou.

He had a dream. His name: 'Bikima Ag Ibnou'. He wanted to make a difference. He decided to make his dream come true. When he became an adult, he built a school. The Touareg people planted a seed five years ago, he nurtured the seed and did everything within his human power to let the seed blossom. He achieved it. It was only the beginning of a series of heroic deeds. When he was born, his parents felt that there was something special about their baby. A transformer. 

The first thing what happened, was this: he sent a genuine smile to his parents. A sign of trust. So pure. He had the power to make things happen. He felt it. In his bones. His parents were lucky. To have such a wonderful baby boy. It seemed that the baby had special qualities. From day one. It was not fond of its mother's milk, instead it craved water. Water represented life. Drinking water, diving into it, wonderful. Milk was only a tool to survive early childhood.

He looked into the fire. His blue clothes kept him warm. His parents were far away. He missed them. His hands were dry. The skin of his hands needed to be moisturized. He was aware that in the Western world the market offered solutions to overcome this issue. He learned to deal with it. The desert was his home. He knew it well. Every corner. Here he felt at ease. He could be who he was. No need to show off. The donkey was sleeping. Breathing slowly. A true compagnon.

Sometimes he felt as if he was a part of two worlds. On one hand he was living in the desert most of the time, where life still was very simple. On the other hand he spent  some days in Timbuktu city, where he had access to internet. A miracle. The contrast was huge. It helped him to put things into perspective. In the Western world people had everything their heart desired. Almost. He was born in a region where people had to work hard to make their dreams come true.

If only he could find more funds, to support his people. His creative brain was looking for supportive ways. Water was life. He witnessed on a daily basis what it meant to have no access to water or just not enough access. The desert had no mercy. At all. He had seen many children suffering. They needed water. His heart broke when he saw the end result. A soul gone. Again and again. To heaven. For a simple reason. The absence of clear water.

His eyes were wet. He felt bad. His stomache turned around. Why was he born in this part of the world? He wished that he had more means to give a powerful push to the people of the desert. They deserved it. Although they had a few belongings, they were grateful for every day. They started their morning with a glorious smile. A sunrise deep within them that revealed their core attitude. They made the best of their situation. It felt natural to do so. They were survivors.

The cup of tea was warm. In his hands. His eyes were closing. He was alone. Except for the donkey. The animal was sleeping. Exhausted. The fire was talking to him. His ears were listening. From a distance a spirit was watching him. It connected to his heart. The heart desires got exposed. Suddenly sand moved. As if a plan was executed. Plan B. B for bewitched. An action plan was revealed. Steps to be taken. The outcome was a delight to watch.

His lips smiled. His eyes still closed. There was an unknown force covering his back. His heart felt the tension. In the air. The fire continued to talk to him. The language of the heart. Understood. An estimated budget was made. At the same time a Western fund raiser was looking for a meaningful goal. In Africa. Impressed by the people surviving in the desert region. The universe connected offer and demand. Magic ongoing. Contracts signed before thoughts arrived.

Just like that. When he opened his eyes the morning after, his hands were soft and warm. They were moisturized. He was surprised. The donkey was drinking water. From a golden bowl. Around him children were playing. Innocent water games. Beautiful to watch the scenes. He felt relieved. Finally a breakthrough. He had been dreaming about this moment so many times. The sand touched his skin. Very gently. Became silk for once. His expectations exceeded. He looked at the sky. No fata morgana. Reality. A fact. His faith moved mountains.

By Liesbeth Leysen

Note from the author:

More information about the Touareg people: http://www.everyculture.com/wc/Mauritania-to-Nigeria/Tuareg.html

More information about the project that changes lives: http://helptimbolo.com//Tuareg.html

(Photo Credit: Bikima Ag Ibnou)