セネガルへの旅①未来からの記憶（後半） Journey to Senegal ① A Memory from the Future (2nd half)

セネガルはウォロフ語とフランス語。英語を知っている人に出会わない限り、コミュニケーションはなかなか厳しい。友人にタクシーを呼んでもらって、孤児院へ向かう。地域の名前と孤児院の名前を伝えてもらったら、わかったわかった、とわかった感じだったから、あまり心配してなかった。

しばらくドライブして、多分その近くに来たあたりから、道行く人に場所を聞き始めた。聞く人聞く人、知らないようだ。さんざん聞き回った挙げ句の果てに、ようやくそれらしきものを見つけた。けれど、門が閉まってる。ゲートをドンドン叩いても誰も出でこない。もうここは閉鎖してしまったのでは、という不安がよぎる。横に回って隙間から中を覗いたら、人が見えたので、荷物を下ろして、運転手には帰ってもらった。

小さなドアから中に入ると、広い校庭になっていて、いくつかの建物が立っていた。ドアの開いている建物に入っていくと、どうやらそこは診療室。ドクターらしい人がいた。一生懸命パントマイム付きで説明をする、織糸を見せる。ようやくのこと、校長先生という人に会わせてもらうことができた。後で分かったことだけど、そこは診療所、孤児院、学校が、同じ敷地に建っている。近所からも生徒が通ってくるし、そこに寄宿してる子供達もいる。

セネガルでは、孤児でなくても、家庭に子供を育てる十分な財力がないことが多い。そのため子供たちは「ダーラ」と呼ばれる、イスラム教の指導者の家や寄宿舎のような場所に預けられることがある。しかし、そこで物乞いをさせられたり、虐待を受けるケースもあり、社会問題になっている。私の行ったこのダーラは、それを訴えかける意味合いもあって、モデル的に建てられた、ダーラが付属している学校だった。寄宿している子供達もそこで勉強できるし、朝、昼の食事とお祈り、宗教の勉強を一緒にやっている。孤児も何人かいたけど、祝日などは家に帰る子供たちもいた。

着いた日はちょうど祝日で、門が閉まっていて、ほとんどの子が家に帰っていた。校長先生も家に帰るところで、タイミングよく捕まえられたようだった。数年前にこの学校にいて、織物を習ったてたという青年が私に会いに来てくれる約束をしてたんだけど、2時間ぐらい遅れてきた。もう会えないかと思っていた。その子が先生に、私の来た理由を説明をしてくれたら、あぁ！と言って、どでかい倉庫のようなところに連れて行かれれた。その片隅に、蜘蛛の巣とホコリに覆われた織り機が２台、バラバラになって立てかけられていた。ねえ君、子供達に織物教えてくれる？と言われ、心の中では、いや、ただ糸を持ってきただけなんですけど、と思いながらも、いいよ、と言って引き受けた。

ああじゃ僕は今から家に帰る、というから、この辺にホテルある、と聞いたら、そんなものはない、と言われ、困り果てた。ここに泊めてくれない？とお頼みして、一度は断られたけど、結局、子供たちの寄宿舎の一室に滞在させていただくことになった。

まずはバラバラになった織り機を組み立てるところから始める。織物のことも詳しくない私が、織り機を組み立て、縦糸を作り、通して、って、どうやってできたのか、奇跡というしかない（笑）！そして電気がないから、陽が落ち始めると、暗くて作業ができない（苦笑）。翌日準備が完了すると、祝日でも寄宿舎にいる子供が、数人早速よってきて、俺にやらせろ、と我先にと織ろうとする。彼らは見て覚える、の天才。なんでも人から習うというよりも、人がやってるのをチラ見するだけで、物を見るだけで、同じような物をいろいろ作り出しちゃう。結局最初の一週間で、数人の子が小さな作品やショルダーバッグを作ってしまった。一緒に歌を歌いながら、黒板に絵を描きながら、楽しい時を過ごさせてもらった。

お昼は先生も子供たちの一緒に、お祈りするお堂のようなところで、ご飯を食べる。洗面器のような器に４−5人分のご飯を入れて、囲みながら一緒に食べる。たくさんのご飯の真ん中に、魚と野菜を赤い色のソースで煮込んだ、セネガルの代表的な料理、チェプジェン。代わりばんこに手を出して、上手に丸めて口に入れる。ソースばかりであまり野菜は入っていないけど、年上の子が、その数少ない野菜をつまんでは、私の前に置いてくれる。2歳、3歳の子達もマネをして、私にくれる。毎日彼らのそんな愛に、ジーンと感動しながら、ご飯をいただいていた。

食後、お堂の横をふと見ると、白い半屋根が出ていて、その下で、子供達が追いかけっこをしている。まさに、私のヒプノグループセッションで見たビジョン！

最近よく聞く、未来からの記憶。セッションの時見たのは、まさにその未来からの記憶だったのかもしれない、とマジで思い始めている。

Senegal uses Wolof and French. Unless you happen to meet someone who speaks English, communication can be quite difficult. My friend helped me call a taxi so I could go to the orphanage. I told the driver the name of the area and the orphanage, and he seemed confident that he knew the place, so I wasn’t too worried.

After driving for a while, once we were probably close to the area, he began asking people on the street for directions. One after another, no one seemed to know the place.

After asking many people, we finally found something that looked like it might be it.

But the gate was closed. I banged on the gate, but no one came out. A thought crossed my mind: Maybe the place has already closed. Then I went around the side and peeked through a gap. I could see someone inside. So I unloaded my luggage and told the driver he could go.

When I entered through a small door, I found myself in a large courtyard with several buildings. I went into one building where the door was open and discovered it was a clinic. There was someone who seemed to be a doctor. I explained as best as I could using enthusiastic pantomime and by showing the weaving yarn. Eventually, I was able to meet someone who turned out to be the principal of the school. Later I learned that the clinic, orphanage, and school were all located on the same grounds. Some children from nearby neighborhoods attended the school, and some children lived there as boarders.

In Senegal, even if children are not orphans, many families cannot afford to raise them. They are often sent to live with a daara—a type of religious teacher or boarding house connected to Islamic education. Some children are forced to beg or are abused, which has become a serious social issue. At the same time, it is difficult to solve because of the country’s economic situation.

The place I visited was a model school with a daara attached, built partly to raise awareness of this problem. The children who lived there could study at the school, and they shared meals, prayers, and religious studies together. Some of the children were orphans, but during holidays many returned home to their families.

The day I arrived happened to be a holiday, so the gate was closed and most of the children had gone home. The principal was just about to leave as well, so it was lucky that I managed to catch him. A young man who had studied weaving there years earlier had promised to come meet me, but he arrived about two hours late. I had almost given up hope of meeting him. When he explained to the principal why I had come, the principal suddenly said, “Ah!” and led me to a huge warehouse-like building. In one corner, covered with dust and spider webs, were two looms leaning against the wall in pieces. “Hey, could you teach the children weaving?” he asked. Inside my head I was thinking, I only brought the yarn…But somehow I heard myself say, “Sure.” Then he said, “Okay, I’m going home now.” So I asked, “Is there a hotel around here?” “No,” he said. I was completely stuck. So I asked if I could stay there. At first he refused, but eventually they allowed me to stay in one of the rooms in the children’s dormitory.

First I had to assemble the broken looms. Even though I wasn’t that experienced with weaving myself, somehow I managed to put the loom together, prepare the warp threads, and set everything up. Honestly, I still don’t know how I did it. It felt like a miracle.

There was no electricity, so once the sun started setting, it became too dark to work.

Next day when the preparation was finally finished, a few children who had remained at the dormitory came over, immediately saying, “Let me try!” They are geniuses at learning by watching. Rather than being formally taught, they just glance at what someone is doing and quickly figure out how to make the same thing themselves. Within the first week, a few of the children had already woven small pieces and even made shoulder bags. We sang songs together and drew pictures on the blackboard. It was a joyful time.

At lunchtime, the teachers and children gathered in a prayer hall to eat together. Food for four or five people would be served in a large bowl like a wash basin, and everyone would sit around it and share. In the center was a dish called thieboudienne—fish and vegetables cooked in a red sauce with rice. Everyone would take turns reaching in, skillfully rolling rice into small balls and putting them in their mouths. There weren’t many vegetables in the sauce, but the older kids would pick out the few pieces and place them in front of me.

Then the two- and three-year-olds would imitate them and offer vegetables to me too.

Every day, I felt deeply moved by their kindness as we shared meals together.

After lunch one day, I happened to look beside the prayer hall.

There was a white half-roof canopy, and underneath it the children were running around, chasing each other. It was exactly the scene I had seen in my hypnosis vision.

Recently people talk about “memories from the future.” Maybe what I saw in that group hypnosis session really was a memory from the future. And I’m starting to seriously believe that might be true.