A simple and very withdrawn boy was presented to us when we arrived at the house, seemingly incapable of any activity, but now Babaako is drawing fat tight yellow circles in oil pastel with intense concentration. We're sitting on a bench that Babaako's mother brought out from her house to sit amongst the roots of a tall shady tree. As she sees her son draw she gasps in astonishment. 'I never knew he could do anything like this!' She tells Kenneth in the local language Dagaare. Kenneth Gan has been putting me in touch with a number of Special Needs children in the Lawra district. We've been travelling on his motorbike on red dirt roads and paths that meander their way across the green rainy-season landscape of north west Ghana.

The families we visit have been given prior warning that we're about to visit, and so when I arrive the children are generally well presented, clothed and clean. However I'm told that on previous unannounced visits by ATE worker Leela she has witnessed a variety of poorly treated children; naked, covered in flies, shut away in dark rooms. According to local beliefs the birth of a handicapped child is the result of a curse being put on the family either by gods or living witches. As a result people are fearful of trading or interacting with the family; a devastating blow in such a hand-to-mouth environment. Special needs children tend to be hidden away. One of the main SNAP objectives is to see, if over time, that perception can be altered.

Kenneth has been teaching me much about local beliefs and customs. One tradition is the process of naming a new child. Much thought and consultation is given to the formulation of a new Dagaare name for a child. Foreigners are sometimes given the honour of acquiring a Dagaare name once due consultations have occured, ATE CEO Sarah Gardner has been given the name 'Yoyra' which means 'nomad'. When I return in January I've been told to expect a new Dagaare name which I look forward to with some trepidation.

Babaako has attacked the paper in front of him with gusto as he draws circles and ladders with undiminishing concentration. His mother looks on, beaming. I have a feeling there's so much inside this boy that's going to come out when I return in January. I'm excited, but I do wonder about the life that Babaako leads on a daily basis.

We leave Babaako with a fresh pack of crayons and a new exercise book, and then we fire up the motorbike to head off to meet the next SNAP child. Before we move off Kenneth turns to me and tells me the meaning of the Dagaare name 'Babaako'. It means 'Just kill it'.