I quietly close the gate, trying
futilely to be invisible as the villagers at the pitso all look at
me. I am skipping this community meeting in favor of attending the
send off for the seventh graders at the school where I teach Life
Skills.
As I walk, I am greeted by two women.
After the proper greetings in Sesotho, one says, “When you go?”
in English. I look at her, clearly confused, so she repeats herself.
Still lost, I ask in English, “how
did I go or when did I go?”
She breaks into a beaming smile, says
yes, and then thanks me profusely before heading on her way again. As
I walk away, I am stupefied. Was she asking me how my trip was? When
my trip was? Or When will I leave Lesotho for good?
Has she asked any of these questions in
Sesotho, I would have had no problem understanding her, however, she
wanted to use her rudimentary English. This is probably how my
Sesotho comes across at times; close but completely
incomprehensible.
***
Some schools have big
parties to celebrate the departure of the seventh graders following
their national exams. My school, however, cannot afford to feed
everyone, so our send off is subdued. Each student receives some
sweets, fruits, a package of cookies, and a loaf of bread. The
teachers, including me, each say a few words.
The students rise and thank
me in unison for my work with them this year. Then, they sing for us.
Finally, the principal challenges them to succeed in high school and
lets them know that their results should be in before the school
closes in a month.
And with that, they are done with their free education. They will not know until later whether they have passed their exams or will return to Standard 7 again next year. Those who pass will be able to go on to secondary or high school, if their families can afford it.
I know these twenty-seven
teens will hold a special place in my memory. Being a small class,
the oldest, and the most proficient at English; I got to know them
better as individuals than my other classes. And still, I realize how
little I know some of them outside of the school.
Only today I learned that
the most proficient English speaker in the class, a lovely, bright
young woman, is an orphan. She currently lives with her uncle, who
takes little interest in her and her education. The principal and I
discussed her intended meeting with the uncle. She is going to
challenge him to help his niece apply for the government sponsorship
so that she can attend secondary school. Over the past few years,
teachers at the school have helped find uniform items for this
student so she could continue to attend. Assuming her uncle helps her
apply for sponsorship, she will need all new uniforms next year. I
suggested also pushing him to speak with the Ministry of Social
Development as they are starting to help orphans with uniform items
and sometimes even with food so that they can attend secondary
school. Hopefully, she will be able to continue attending school, as
she is simply too bright to stop at such a young age.
***
Later in the day, I want to
a friend's. On my way, I bump into another friend of mine. After
weeks without seeing one another, we catch up on life. I continue on
my walk happy to have such great friends and interactions in my
village.
My friend's husband is in
the hospital, his cancer having spread to his bones allowing a simple
fall to break his hip. I offer her support and commend her energy
despite being divided between the shop they have, tending her
children, and visiting her husband. Even though life is so difficult
for her at the moment, she gives me a cold soda from her stock when I
depart the shop.
***
When I return home, I
anxiously check my email. This morning I sent a friend in Charleston
an article for Charleston Daily.
He is a gifted writer and published poet so I am nervously waiting to
see what he thinks of my writing. I want to jump for joy when I see
his response telling me that the article is just beautiful. Not long
afterwards, he emails me the link to the published article.
***
In the evening, my brother,
Thabo, comes in for my Sesotho lesson. We talk and bond for an hour
before the other brothers join us for our movie time. After my
brothers say goodnight, I prepare for bed, overjoyed by the little
moments that make each day different and special in this beautiful
country. ***
No comments:
Post a Comment