Residents of the Western Sahara (Saharan Arab Democratic Republic) live in exile. They live in the middle of the most arrid region of the planet and face the constant nuisance of living alongside the army of Marruecos. There, in camps hastily made of scraps of cloth, metal, and wood, the dignity of persons with disabilities remains intact.This is the testimony of Spanish author Montaña Guillén, who wrote _35 aniversario del Frente Polisario_ (35th Anniversary of the Armed Resistance). Although she wrote this call to action for the resistance in 2005, it is still important today.
Montaña Guillén
In December 2005, as another year has gone by, we board the plane headed for Tinduf (Argelia). Our objective: to see new faces, and add more names to the group of Western Saharan children with disabilities who will go to Spain next June.
On this occasion, something is different. Fatu, a little girl, accompanies us. She has returned to the camps to be with her family again, after having received treatment for her health problems. Her speech is joyful, radiant, and nervous, although her words can only express part of what she has seen in the days before our arrival; but these words can help us imagine the rest.When she finally takes us to her house, her mother begins to relay to us in detail in hassanía, the local language (with brief interuptions so that a family member can translate her words into Spanish) her appreciation for all that we have done for her daughter. In this manner she is telling us in capital letters THANK YOU.
As in previous years, the selection of children has been difficult work as I see all of the families have stories of many difficulties and hope that their child will be chosen. I can only remind myself, 'we only have seven placements.' This year we will be working with fewer children, in response to the observations made by many professionals that we work with children during the summer. We want to offer them a better quality of life as long as they are here, and because of this it is important to avoid over-extending ourselves so that we are able to meet their needs.
We will be expecting several more children to come: three children between the ages of 7 and 8 years, two teenage boys, approximately 16 years old, and two teenage girls between the ages of 13 and 16 years including FATU, as she must continue with her medical treatment.
In the Western Saharan high school for persons with disabilities, we become reacquainted with children who have come in years past. As they approach us, they hug us and smile, as if remembering all that they experienced in Spain. Mamilla, the school´s director, comes and goes as she tries to facilitate our work. She asks about the workers she met in the summer of 2004, and sends greetings.
Also, this year we had been invited to participate in a workshop on disability in the camps. Our intervention, and a large part of our work in the camps, was focused on early intervention. In other words, we explained the importance of stimulation and following through with stimulation of the children as soon as they are born, in an effort to prevent or treat early various types of disability. There is still a long road ahead of them, but they have motivation, and we will be patient. Of course it is somewhat surprising that in a refugee camp we are finding this type of iniciative. They show a commendable interest in the secondary effects of not having food, water, or shelter.
Here, despite the fact that there is no employment, people are already speaking of social and labor integration of persons with disabilities. Here, where the family tends to be large and responsible for carrying out a lot of work in adverse conditions, people are speaking of participation in the center. In every space here people continue to remind one another that a person with a disability is before everything else a person who deserves complete respect. In a refugee camp, where they are in need of "everything," they still try to meet the specific needs of persons with disabilities.
Having heard these perspectives, we can try to get an idea of how much they want to achieve, however little they talk. I believe we have all learned from what they have shared with us these days. And, above all else, we applaud their strength. In summary, these work days were much appreciated professionally and personally.
Our host family has a one-year-old daughter, Dabba. As this illustrates, the community continues to grow. Its members do not lose hope that one day they will be able to overcome the struggle that has led them to adopt this marginalized territory, and return to the desert in which they grew up: The Western Sahara (now occupied by Marruecos).
Dabba does not yet know that she is a girl without a homeland, nor that the sand in which she crawls is not part of the Sahara. We hope that she will grow up to be a free woman, with country and passport.

