Some people are destined to greatness, defying the odds regardless of circumstances. This was the case of Mayi Dembele from Kona, a small village in Sahel’s heart. She did not cry when she was born. At six months, she already walked, and two years later, she talked better than many adults. Growing up in a typical outback village, surrounded by adobe constructions and vernacular architecture, she and her ten siblings received an education respectful of customary practices and traditions.
Mayi was bright and intelligent, so much so that her parents, who believed that children were better off working, did not hesitate to send her to public school. Mayi was also inquisitive, and communication technologies fascinated her. Her first passion had been her father’s radio, the tiny wonder that spoke and made music. When cellphones made it to Kona in the late 2000’s, she spent all her free time stalking the fortunate owners who could make calls from anywhere they wanted. At 11, Mayi already felt like a grown-up. Her mother trusted her to prepare the sauce for dinner, and soon, she would be allowed to go to the market by herself. Adulthood was around the corner; nonetheless, fetching water like younger children was still one of Mayi’s favourite duties. Every morning, before school, she would hit the laterite streets with her yellow canister in her hand. The red earth and pebbles always crunched under her flip-flops marking the rhythm of her journey. At the water station, the pump set the beat to which Mayi and her friends, Celestine, Djelika and Nantoma, filled their containers. When the water flow stopped, conversations would start. Gossip, arguments, debates, Mayi relished it all, as outside of the classroom, these were her best sources of information. One conversation in particular profoundly impacted her.