Well, I made it safely back to Uganda.
Just cross an imaginary line and they are driving on the "wrong" side
of the road again! In Rwanda they drive on the right, it's easy to cross
the road when you know which direction to look for traffic! Crossing
the boarder also means they speak a different language, they use Ugandan
schillings, instead of Rwandan Francs, the organized chaos of Rwanda is
left behind and the mass chaos of Uganda has returned! It's good to be
back, although I can appreciate the "organized chaos" that Rwanda has
become after the genocide by all the International aid organizations
that flooded in, it just didn't feel like Africa.
I am now working at a school called "Amazing Grace". It's an elementary (they call it primary) school with about 350 students. There are about 150 of those students who are "boarders". The boarders are either orphans or just come from a poor family who can't afford to feed and educate them. At the back of the school there are dormitories where the boarders sleep. It is basic, bunks that stack three-high with a small trunk on each bed where the child that sleeps there keeps his or her few possessions. These kids are very eager to learn and when I walk in the dirt floored, little classroom they all stand up and say "You are welcome madam". When I say "good morning!", they respond with "good morning madam!". I tell them to sit. I ask how they are and in unison I hear "We are fine madam, how are you madam?". They do a lot of learning by call and response, or repeating what the teacher says. It goes something like this, I write the word on the blackboard: C A T; I say, "the word is cat, can you spell it?" Thirty to fourty voices shout out "I can spell the word cat, it is C, A, T. The word is cat." "Very good!" I say. They have a hard time understanding my accent, but we are working on that! The building itself is a simple structure, the roof is tin and the walls are rough-cut boards, some of them half-walls, some of the building has cement walls. When I walk around the classrooms I often trip on tree stumps or uneven ground. Having a mzungu among them is very much a novelty, we are now in the second week and it hasn't worn off yet. Today the 6th grade class started teaching me their local language. Let's just say I have some room to improve! The teachers are not afraid to slap a child across the back of the head or whack them on the back for misbehaving. They also carry a stick or branch to keep them in line. At first this horrified me, however I've come to see there are so many kids and you really do have to keep them in line somehow. The other thing that horrifies me is when the teachers tell them, "you are bad, I will beat you." It's just so different from the way things are done in my world! Right or wrong, who am I to say?? Although they know the teacher is standing there with a stick, still they run up and test there luck...kids will be kids. One day we were sitting in the staff lounge and a teacher came in with his arm around a boy who was sobbing. The boy was chest-heaving-sobbing, when I asked what was wrong the teacher told me, "I gave him some slaps because his mother is complaining he isn't doing his studies." The interesting part was that now the teacher sat next to him with his arm around him, helping him to calm down and to do his homework. I did not ask how many "slaps" he gave him. I have started giving hugs when I see the little ones and now they run up to me with there arms up, they like to be picked up off the ground. It's a good workout for me too! Even some of the older ones have come to me with open arms. Today I taught them "hang-man". The last phrase before they left for lunch was "You are so smart"! They thought it was so funny.
I have enjoyed teaching the older classes. The 5th-7th grades are better listeners and understand me a little better. I am afraid to be left alone in the 1st and 2nd grade classrooms, we spend the first half of the class trying to get everyones notebooks out and their pencil sharpened. The second half of class is spent with hands raised asking various questions, "teacher, please may I go for a short call?" This is a visit to the toilet. Or another problem is, "teacher I don't have a pencil." I have a whole new respect for teachers, while one first grader is finishing the exercise, the next is still writing his or her name!
I am living with an amazing family, the priest(Herbert) of the Anglican church and his wife(Immaculate) and eight-month-old baby(Jael). They are really wonderful and are so good to me. I spent Saturday with Immaculate and Jael in a small village, we drove a winding, bumpy road that made the road to the gorillas look like a paved highway! I was told it was 50 km (loosely 30 miles), it took over two hours to get there! Immaculate was teaching a class when we got there so I was the nanny for the day. I sat in the front seat holding the sleeping baby. Of course, there's no car seats or seatbelts so I was embracing this child so tight I was afraid she would suffocate, but she dozed in my arms the entire way, despite the jolting and bouncing. Our driver, Ezra, called out "welcome aboard the jumping hourse", as we set off.
Another incredible day filled with more stunning scenery of hills, mountains, lakes, extremely strong women and children carrying stacks of 10-15 bricks on their heads and happy people waving at me. I just keep being amazed. I asked how these people get to Kisoro and Ezra answered, "they walk"... of course they do!
So much to learn, everyday it's something new!
All my love,
Bonnie
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