THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

I’m getting more of an idea of what life is like for an average child here and it sure is nothing compared to the average kid on the block back home. The fact that there is no “block” here with a shopping centre, movie house, toy shop, café, chemist or sports centre on the next corner is the most obvious difference. No-one has a proper address, like the corner of 2nd and Main Road and I haven’t learnt the names of all the settlement villages so I just refer to someone living either over this hill or over that hill. The upside of not having an address is no junk post but the downside is not getting your online order for a new mortar and pestle delivered to your door so you go without. In fact, people here kinda go without everything which city people consider essential. If you don’t happen to have your own Kenwood to crush your plantation of mielies into maize meal , then you could always load up as many bagfuls as you can carry and go to the guy in Centane who parks his cement like contraption in front of Pep Stores and will crush your mielies for a small fee.


Most people don’t farm here anymore so they just buy their maize meal from Boxer or Shoprite in Centane. Apparently, in the past, the boys used to keep the cattle out of the mielie fields but now that they go to school (well actually not all do), no one watches the cows so over time, the people stopped farming since the cattle just ate up the crops. Putting up a fence around a vegetable garden would probably cost 2 months government grant, which is the only income for most people here. Bushes and branches used to work as fencing in the past but the people seem to have lost their desire and motivation and anyway, a government grant is much easier. I’ve been told that if the boys don’t fetch the cows in the afternoons then they wonder into the forest and die from eating plants before sunrise. Either these were muslin cows celebrating Ramadam or I lost the thread of the story. The fact that there are poisonous Ink bushes growing everywhere hasn’t come up. The Xhosa people here don’t keep their cattle the conventional way of on ones property. They open the kraal gates in the morning and the cows wander around wherever they find grazing. They are not milking cows and the vet doesn’t pop around to help during calving season or tick infestations. Animal husbandry is left to nature and the ancestors.

Going to school is the highlight of most primary school children’s day. They get to see their friends and are fed a hot meal every day. (There are limited spoons at school so I’ve gotten used to watching many of them eating samp and beans with their hands, a ruler or protractor). After school boys fetch cows or goats while girls fetch water or smear a fresh layer of dung on the floor. All children over the age of 10 have to wash their own school clothes. Most children live with their grandmothers but I’m not sure how many are because their parents have died of Aids or because their parents work somewhere else. About 40% of children drop out of school before high school (which starts at grade 10). I have recently found out that faction fighting amongst the boys from different villages definitely does exist. In fact a few weeks ago, 3 boys from our school had to deal with this problem en route to school since they walk through another village to get to school. The one who was too old (twice the age of the others in his class) dropped out of school, the other moved to another family member’s home to avoid walking through the wrong village and the third, well he is still too frightened to come back to school.

Weekends consist of church, soccer, funerals and family visits. Xhosa family is not the same as the western term of family and everyone here talks about extended family. All those excuses that your cleaning lady gave you that she has to attend her sisters funeral, are probably true. Families begin with biological members and extend to just about the whole village in fact. Clan names are more important than surnames and members of the same clan are considered family. Clan names originate by someone important and all descendants of that person, even if you marry someone and your surname changes, are family. You aren’t allowed to marry your brother or sister even though they are not necessarily biological family members but you have to, without fail, attend everyone’s funeral.

Funerals are a whole topic on their own which I’ll leave for another time. Now its time for me to do another load of washing in my fancy upmarket Sputnik washing machine.

Sometimes I can’t see the forest for the trees

Sometimes I can’t see the forest for the trees

I’ve been feeling a bit dissolutioned lately but on reflection, maybe it’s me who’s loosing the plot again. It’s easy to fall into the trap. The pathetic schooling system really fails the children here and it’s driving me insane trying to work with a system that is non existent. Besides the fact that school only takes place Monday to Thursday mornings; afternoons are a bit wishy washy since it depends on which teachers aren’t in a meeting. Some afternoons the teachers who are at school, leave work on the blackboard for the students to do on their own but usually the students just amuse themselves. Friday’s the teachers go home from 10am and the learners clean the classrooms.  When it rains, many learners can’t get to school as the river flows stronger than normal but they don’t miss much.  Lessons are taught in Xhosa by teachers who don’t have a clue about dedication and the principal is about as much of a token trophy as we are.  The kids have no discipline but mind you they are pretty good at making coffee for the teachers.

Last week we attended a big party at school.  The grade R’s graduation and the grade 9’s farewell.  The parents/ grandmothers and the elders were there to proudly cheer the 6 year old’s dressed in hired white dresses and suits and cloaked in their graduation gowns.  The grade 9’s looked like matrics in their fancy suits and shiny dresses all dressed to the nines.  The school spent a fortune to feed everyone who attended and there were no lessons for the whole week what with students having their hair done, others cleaning classrooms and teachers off shopping for groceries for the occasion.    

Last month at the school sports day, another huge chunk of school cash was spent on meat and booze to feed the teachers.  The students were given their usual samp and beams although the guest soccer team were treated to hunks of bread and a slice of polony.  The teachers took loads of left over meat home and we were given our share as well.  The guest school went home with a few bottles of Johnny Walker red label and I went home with a lump in my throat.  

So.  What am I missing here?  The whole forest actually. The above are all the reasons why education in Transkei sucks but I’m not a politician and I didn’t come here to change the course of education in Transkei.  I’m just somebody living in a rural village, helping at the school and our library while learning about the Xhosa nations’ lifestyle.    

Actually, I enjoyed spending the day at the functions with the other teachers in the kitchen chopping vegetables.  I got to know them a little better. I was intrigued by their practical method of cooking 2 huge bags of butternut.  Peeling all the butternut took some time but no one complained and they sang songs and did the occasional dance when it got boring.  Cooking seemed to be part of the party.  Then they put all the peeled butternut slices back into the big orange bags which they came in and tied the bags up again.  They boiled the bagged butternuts in a huge black pot for an hour or 2 on the fire.  Then they took the bags out and hung it on the fence for all the water to drain off for a half an hour or so - somewhere out of reach of passing livestock.  A nifty way to handle bulk portions of food.  I took my own chopping board in since I haven’t mastered chopping carrots and vegetables into miniscule blocks in the air above a bowl.    

They boiled a pig in a huge black pot on the fire.  Everything got cut into massive blocks, chops, hocks, the whole damn thing.  No water was added at all and the meat just cooked in its own juices with some spices.  It was quite tasty. Another huge pot was filled with hunks of seasoned beef steaks, stewing meat and sirloin all stirred into one pot and also cooked only in its own juices on the fire.  It was just as tasty. 

Luckily we are not fussy eaters and have sometimes been invited to join the teachers over lunchtime when they eat boiled pigs heads and such like.  I ended up with a piece of ear once which was a bit too cartilagy for me so I kinda sucked on it and nibbled on it until a respectable amount of  time had passed and I could politely put it down on a plate. The way to eat meat, fat or afval is to pass a knife around and cut chunks off which you eat with your hands.  This is the Xhosa way which we are becoming comfortable with.  In the beginning I tried acting casual and took my piece of stomach or whatever it was handed to me and bit into it as you would a chop.  I felt a bit like a Neanderthal gnawing and yanking on my kill until someone passed me a knife while the teachers all continued jabbering loudly around me. 

I’m learning that when Xhosa people get together for a party it makes white people’s parties look like a stuck up affair.  The graduation was much more of an interactive event and the mammas got quite carried away with spontaneous singing as they hailed the next speaker. Some ululating to show appreciation of a child’s performance was quite in order.    

Next month we have been invited to an initiation and I can’t wait.  I think Theo is a bit worried about the fact that he will be the only male there over the age of 25 with a foreskin but I don’t think they will be doing a spot check. 

I’ve decided it’s more fun enjoying the ride through the forest than worrying whether someone checked the brakes.

Where do the children play

…….”I know we’ve come a long way, changing day to day but tell me, where do the children play.”……..

Well gee whiz.  Talk about a roller coaster ride of emotions. 2 weeks ago I was feeling sorry for myself cos no-one came to the library.   This week I barely have had time to wipe my….. nose. The word has spread and the children have discovered the library.

– Yeeehaaa. 

I’ve assisted a high school student with his project, Theo and I have given a few school teachers computer lessons (which will be ongoing), and the primary school kids come around every single day now.  They do puzzles, type in English on the computers, play computer games, play the music keyboard (note to self: need to get headphones for the keyboard) while I talk to them all in English.  I even spent an afternoon helping the Grade R teacher with her college assignment.

Today was special.  For many reasons actually.  Mostly because an 8 year old boy took the initiative, selected a book and started reading it all by himself.  I had been walking around, assisting at the “puzzle table” and at the computers when suddenly I saw him.  He was sitting on a bench in front of the children’s books, engrossed in a book which he was reading and I could see he was enjoying the story.  I was thrilled.  Generally the children don’t come to the library to read as they prefer to play solitaire and pinball on the computers or type.  I’m just happy that they come to the library at all.  I don’t want to frighten them off by pushing the books on them too much.  Anyway, I sat down next to him and listened to his reading as he read the story aloud and I helped him with a word or two when he asked me to. I had to restrain myself from hugging him every 20 seconds. Occasionally he pointed out a picture to me and he was amused when he questioningly pointed to a word in the story, “Eeeeee” the sound which the mouse made.  The printed word really intrigued him and each time he read it slowly and extra loud.  Now doesn’t that just make it all worth it?  I felt like I’d been given a Christmas present which I was unwrapping each time he turned a page. What a wonderful feeling.  And the best part is he took a second book home and I bet he’ll be back for more.

I had a lovely afternoon chatting to a high school student.  She told me she wants to become a pilot if she passes matric next year.  She also told me that she enjoys dancing and singing and her dancing instructor in Butterworth has told her that she is good.  I considered that she has a better chance of making a career on stage than in the air but naturally I didn’t tell her that.  I’ve told her to come back and I will help her with some English grammar exercises at the library.  The high school is about 15 km’s away and we don’t teach there but the students come to the library if and when they can get here. 

Clinton who is 12 is typing a letter about himself at the library.  He likes cabbage but hates samp and beans and would like to become a teacher one day.  Taylor who is also l2, likes BMW’s, his community, his brothers and sisters and wants to become a doctor one day.  Big dreams. 

Little things that give me great pleasure are when small people have big smiles.  3 days ago a grade 1 pupil, walked home with Theo and I.  He held my hand all the way and we sang songs like “This is the way I brush my teeth” as we walked.  He giggled like mad when I got stuck singing Inkosi Sikele.  After singing the first few lines I mouthed the rest with him while he giggled like crazy and sang it right through. 

Besides the library keeping me busy every single day now, we are also really getting stuck into the lessons at school.  The teachers seem to put a heck of a lot of time into their meetings which I don’t understand and the classes are often left unsupervised.  The term started slow, in fact a week late due to bad weather and more meetings.  We don’t give as many lessons per day as I would like, especially since the children are way, way behind in their English. I hope the teachers don’t think we are trying to take their jobs away or that we know better than them because we don’t.  They teach all the subjects from English textbooks to students who’s home language is Xhosa, including the teachers themselves so it must be really difficult.  I sympathise with them.  Theo and I are just here to assist with English.  I wish we could pick up the pace a bit, i.e. on Friday’s, school closes early because many of the teachers go home to their families in East London so we don’t go in at all.  Perhaps as I get used to teaching I will also learn to utilize my time in the class more effectively.  The children love playing I spy, hangman and teamwork which they take very seriously.  They really enjoy doing the excercises, showing their capabilities, and they are so keen to please. I’ve been mostly focusing on listening and speaking English which they are shy about but I think its time to buckle down and help them with grammar since they are sooooo far behind and it obviously affects all their subjects. 

Theo has connected the schools’ computer and is showing the teachers the spreadsheet which is the new system for ordering books as per the department of education.  

I’ve really enjoyed spending time with the students these past two weeks and I’m slowly getting to know them. 

 Finally I feel I have a purpose.