Above: Covered in dust and working alone, a child labours at a gold mining site.
“I wish I could go to school and see a world beyond this one.”
That’s what one girl born on the site told me. Her words have never left me.
And I think of her — and all the children still in the mines — when I watch my own children play, learn, live without fear, tell me their dreams, and describe their little world as if it were perfect.
One father said something I’ll never forget:
“If you want to protect my children, do it here. They have no other home but this place. I’m the only survivor of my family. Our houses were destroyed because of insecurity in our country. So when you say this is no place for children, tell me, where else should they go? I’d rather see them here than watch them starve or be killed. One of mine was killed before my eyes.”
That froze me. It speaks volumes about the despair some families face.
Why we fight — and why it’s so hard
At Children Believe, my colleagues on the ground put all their heart, convictions, and often their emotions into this fight.
To do this, we work with local partners to support child protection networks, strengthen birth registration services, and carry out awareness-raising activities through training sessions, community dialogues, and radio programs.
We help children return to school. We support vocational training.
Sometimes we succeed.
But not always.
All our work is rooted in partnership.
We recognize the efforts the Government of Burkina Faso is making to tackle child labour, especially in artisanal gold mining. At Children Believe, we work alongside public services and partner NGOs — supporting and strengthening the actions already underway.
Still, we know this is a complicated fight, deeply rooted in social, economic and security-related realities. And it’s only together — with communities, authorities, and all those committed to protecting children that we can continue to move forward, step by step.
Even so, some children go — or return — to the mining sites.
One boy wanted to leave a site and return to school. Efforts had begun to support him and his family. But before the process could be completed, he was crushed by a machine.
That kind of tragedy is a heartbreaking reminder that we can’t always act fast enough.