Day 1

One of the main reasons I love teaching is because no two days are ever the same. I know it sounds cliché, but I have proof: yesterday I was in my sunny English classroom in the east end of London teaching a group of students about Romeo and Juliet. Today I’m on a plane with a group of students flying 5600 miles from London to Johannesburg. See what I mean?

A week at Central Foundation Girls’ School begins with a staff briefing where we go through the contents of the staff bulletin. Honestly, some things in the staff bulletin make me sigh. It's filled with notices about students who will be missing my lessons (which I don't like, even if it's for a very good reason), notices about deadlines I have to meet (for things like mark reports which make me stressed, even though I know they're important) and notices about other things that I have to add to my schedule in between planning lessons and marking work. Add to that the fact that everything is more difficult on a Monday morning, and I'm surprised I even saw the notice at all. It was only a few lines long and read something simple like this:

There is an opportunity for a member of staff to visit South Africa. Please see Mr. Perry for further details.

I don't know what it was about that day, but my eyes shot right to Mr. Perry's message and as soon as the briefing was over I went straight upstairs to send him an email asking for more details. After an application, an interview and lots of waiting, I learned that I was selected to travel to South Africa as part of a delegation of teachers and students from London’s East End. The group is called the East London Schools Partnership and it’s sponsored by Unilever.

So here it is, 10 months later, and I am on an airplane with three different groups of people. There are 15 students from Central Foundation Girls' School accompanied by Ms. Travis and Ms. Kulubya - they'll be joining me at our link school and also touring around to other schools as well. There is Ms Gorman, a deputy headteacher from our school, and Mr. Harris, the Headteacher from Phoenix school just across the street from Central. They are coming along to work with the senior members of schools and the department of education. Finally, there is us: 7 global teachers from different Tower Hamlets Schools. Each of our London schools has a link school in the Eastern Cape and we will be spending almost a month there teaching and learning.

Before any of that happens, though, we have to get there. It means flying almost 11 hours totally south. No turns and no horizontals - just a straight, clean vertical line all the way to the bottom of the huge continent of Africa. I have no idea what we'll find when we get there - but I think I'm ready to find out.

Day 1 Part II!

This has been such a long day! Immediately after we arrived in Johannesburg we collected our bags and went out into the hot early morning African sunshine to wait for the buses to collect us and take us to our hostel. We waited by the sides of various roads for about an hour. Some members of our group voiced frustration about the waiting, but a global teacher who has been to Africa before said "Don't forget - you are on Africa time now."

To outsiders like me ‘Africa time’ means waiting longer than you thought. It means wasting time. To Africans I think it means taking time to be with each other. It means feeling the sun. It means living with the confidence that wherever it is you need to go, you’ll get there and whatever it is you need to acquire, you’ll find it. The news reports are full of what Africans don’t have, but already, after just over an hour on their continent, I could tell something important that they have that I don’t. At first glance it could be dismissed as something as obvious as ‘patience’, but I’m sure it’s much deeper than that. It’s a different way of looking at the world.

The mini buses arrived at the airport and we were driven a short distance to the hostel which would be our home for our first African evening. We arrived at the accommodation and were thrilled to see that it included two swimming pools and very comfortable bunk beds for the girls. The global teachers were spread among some double and triple rooms, and all were happy. After all of the work we did preparing the students for the different living conditions that they would need to handle, it seemed hilarious to hear them making plans to take out swimming costumes and mp3 players. We quickly changed into shorts and summer clothes (it was a purely sunny 30 degrees and we had just come from a wet and grey 9 degrees!) and loaded ourselves back into the mini bus for a tour of the city of Johannesburg.

We sped from our hostel down a modern freeway towards the centre of Johannesburg. It was easy to tell that we were in the downtown of a big city; there were huge skyscrapers and concrete parking lots. However, there was something important missing – people and vehicles and the buzz that you would expect from the centre of a major metropolis.

Our driver told us that 85% of the towering buildings are vacant because rampant crime forced top hotels and even the stock exchange to move to a suburb North of Johannesburg. He said that rejuvenation is happening because of the world cup in 2010, but we didn't see very much of that. In fact, there was no construction happening at all. There were abandoned railway stations and lots of smashed windows. It felt strange to see all of that strong steel, paved road and shiny glass standing totally lifeless. I imagined the kind of pain and struggle that would have had to occur to necessitate moving the heart of a city. A human being has to be struggling violently for life before they are even eligible to be place on a waiting list for a heart transplant.

The bus was quiet as we looked out at the cracked open rib cage of the city. There were a few people walking through the streets. I saw nothing that made me feel unsafe or worried - it was like visiting the scene of a battle long after the fires have been put out and the dead and wounded have been carrier off.

We were driven to what looked like an abandoned parking lot. Surrounded by towering buildings and fast freeways there was a market for traditional healers to buy supplies – a chemist’s for traditional healers. Everything was perfectly laid out: mounds of sweet onions, piles of fresh cedar ships, shells and stones, old disused glass bottles filled with mysterious liquids and even large bird carcasses hanging on the wire fences separating the disused lots. There was nobody buying anything but it felt like a peaceful, content community of vendors. Many members of the group left the vehicle to take pictures, but some of us, including me, decided to stay inside. A constant struggle on this trip will be how to remove the veil of tourist and visitor and try to be with the people that I meet in a real, honest way. It felt to me like taking those pictures erected a barrier that I was uncomfortable with. I used to take pictures I lot when I traveled, but I was always somehow unsatisfied with them once I saw them upon my return. I will not experience this through a lens.

Next we drove to Soweto and toured lots of important places. First, we had a lovely meal at an outdoor restaurant underneath a thatched straw roof. We had traditional maize, lentils, meat and sugary drinks to keep us awake. The restaurant is on the same street as both Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela have lived – and that’s 2 Nobel Peace Prize winners on the same street! Hearing that made me shiver a little bit. All I've ever thought about when I've heard the name Soweto has been pain and suffering - but obviously a lot of hope was born there too.

We walked up the road from the restaurant to the former home of Nelson Mandela – the one that he left when he began his imprisonment. The women who gave us the tour was dressed in a very formal gown and spoke perfect English with great passion, pride and conviction in her voice. Her shoulders were pressed down and she held her head so high in the air it was obvious to see the gratitude she felt for the man and what he did for her country. The house was humble and small by our standards, and is now filled with some of the honorary degrees and awards that have been bestowed on him by other countries. What was most touching to me was a pair of black hi-tec sports shoes – the ones he wore when he walked out of prison.

We walked up a hill a short way from Mandela’s former home and came to a small field between two schools. It was here that one of the first casualty of the Soweto uprising fell on June 16^th 1976. Hector Pieterson was only 12 years old on the day that the students at his school decided that they wanted to be able to learn in their own language and not just in Afrikaans. There is a grass line that stretches from that point to a building about 5 blocks away that is called the Hector Pieterson Museum. It is a museum dedicated to documenting what is was like to be a person who was black living under apartheid and specifically how their right to education was compromised.

It was touching and painful to hear about how their access to resources and even well trained teachers was intentionally compromised. I was deeply affected by the museum and felt gratitude for the fact that I was visiting it with some of my students. I feel like education is something that our students often take for granted and it was powerful to watch them hear the story of students who were willing to die for their right to learn.

We drove from the museum to a very wealthy part of Johannesburg and past Nelson Mandela’s current home. It is huge and surrounded by high, pointy sharp fences – as are the rest of the houses in the entire area. It is nestled on the top of a high hill and the views of the golden hills of Johannesburg were beautiful. On the way there we passed large areas filled with very crude temporary housing made of corrugated tin, wood and various kind of fabric. We saw school children in smart uniforms weaving their way through the communities and noted that it was the first of many school children we would see on our visit.

Looking at those school children made me very nervous about my host family and the school I will be working at! I wonder what it will be like and if I'll be able to be any use at all?

Day 2

Very strangely, tonight I find myself lying on a plush double bed in a private room with an ensuite bathroom – complete with shower! This country has been full of surprises so far!

Today, we flew from Johannesburg to the city of East London and then drove 3 hours to the city of Mthatha. The drive was lovely. I had a comfortable seat and enjoyed talking to the girls and Ms. Travis about lots of things – including some celebrity gossip from some magazines that we found!

The scenery flying past the windows felt very familiar to me. It was beautiful. Rolling hills, various shades of green and bunches of low trees dotted the landscape and it reminded me of lots of parts of Canada. The girls were marveling at the amount of undisturbed space and I laughed. Maybe one day they’ll get to see the Canadian Prairies!

We arrived at our luxurious guest houses in Mthatha and found the principals and teachers from our host schools waiting for us. We had a meeting with them and some officials from the Department of Education from the Qumbu district where we’ll all be teaching. I met my principal and another teacher from my school and they greeted me with open arms and big smiles. They took some of my nerves away and I feel sure that they will be nice to me and look after me.

I’m getting very nervous about my host family! As I sit here in this beautiful room writing I wonder where I will be tomorrow night. What will my bed look like? Will I be comfortable? Will I feel safe?

Day 3

Today was a long, intense day. I woke up in my luxurious guest house knowing that it would be my last night of conventional comforts for quite some time. We had a hot and dusty journey to Mthatha’s new, very modern, shopping centre where Ms. Kulubya took me shopping for supplies I would need in the village.

Ms. Mavis Kulubya teachers Math at Central. She was a global teacher in 2006 and stayed with the same family as me, and taught at the same school. Coincidentally, she was also born in the Mthatha district and speaks isiXhosa perfectly.

As our shopping trip continued, I began to get more and more nervous about the items that Mavis was suggesting. First, she suggested I buy and extra large can of an insect spray called DOOM! When I told her that I already bought insect repellent she replied that I would need something for insects that were not on my body but in my room. DOOM! comes in a huge aerosol container and I only brought organic, non DEET repellent with me, so I was hesitant to buy something that looked so full of chemicals. "I'm not scared of insects," I said to her. "Buy it anyway." she said. I did. And gulped loudly as I placed it in the shopping trolley.

Secondly she suggested I purchase a bottle of sunlight washing up liquid.

“Surely Mavis,” I said, not wanting to sound arrogant, “they will have something to wash dishes with.”

“Yes,” said Mavis. “It is this.” And she handed me a 40 centimeter long bar of thick, deep green bar soap. “Smell it,” she commanded. I did, and nearly choked on the very strong, musty, unpleasant aroma. She noticed my reaction and said “They will wash your dishes with this. I did not care for the smell.” I bought the sunlight. And some dish towels too, as per her suggestion.

Next on the list was a package of 25 toilet paper rolls. I said “Mavis – it’s only three weeks!” She just looked at me and placed the large package in the cart. I nodded in understanding and my nerves grew even rawer. We added lots of things to the cart for the school, and then sped off for the small town of Qumbu.

As we journeyed from the large city to the small town we began to notice that we were leaving a certain way of living behind. The electricity wires became much less frequent and we noticed traditional huts were taking the place of modern homes. It was clear that we were leaving the Africa of privilege and arriving somewhere totally different. Indeed, as soon as we stepped out of the buses at the District Office a man greeted us with “Welcome to the real Africa.” Those words echoed in my heart for the entire trip.

We had a meal of warm sandwiches and warm drinks but I couldn’t eat anything because I knew that in a few minutes I would be separating from the group and going into the village on my own. The comfort of Ms. Kulubya, Ms. Travis and the 15 students would be gone. The safety of having Ms. Gorman by my side would be gone. The companionship and familiarity of the other global teachers would be gone. I would be by myself and I was scared.

Just as my head was starting to make up nightmare scenarios (maybe I would have to walk 15 kilometers to school? Maybe I would have to kill a goat with my bare hands? Maybe nobody would speak English to me? Maybe….Maybe….) I recognized the teacher I met yesterday – Mr. Magoqoza – and he quickly took my bags and loaded them into his brand new truck. After saying a quick goodbye to everyone (and trying not to cry!) I found myself in the passenger seat speeding toward my new school – Nomzamo Junior Secondary School. The journey there took about 60 minutes and Mr. Magoqoza asked me lots of interesting questions about education. We talked about questioning techniques and how to maintain discipline, and I realized that I could have been in my staff room in London. And then we had to stop the truck to let a whole heard of goats pass.

I had no idea what was waiting for me at Nomzamo. As we drove over one of the unexpectedly green, luscious hills I saw the school at the edge of a cliff. I saw people lined up to meet me on either side of the dusty dirt road. As we drove closer I began to see the faces of the people in the crowd. There were many people of all ages.

As we arrived at the gate to the school I could hear the most beautiful music. I wondered if it was the radio, or a CD and then I realized that it was the students, staff and parents of Nomzamo singing to welcome me. There was a solid line at least 3 people deep of people singing and cheering. There was a crowd of mothers wearing multi-coloured aprons singing an exciting, passionate rhythm and dancing. The elder women sang descants while the younger ones maintained a rhythm. It was a truly beautiful thing to watch and I began to cry immediately. I watched the grade 9 boys – big, tall men – sing the bass pick-up rhythms and could hardly catch my breath. I felt like the heart of the earth was beating right beneath me as I looked out at all of the excited, beaming faces.

I was then whisked away to my host family. They live only a 15 minute walk away and live on a proper farm. They have 9 dogs, 2 puppes, a cat, a big white goose, a duck, 11 cows, 14 goats, many chickens and a huge rooster. My ‘Mamma’ is a great-grandmother and she works selling things outside of the local hospital. She is hilarious. She’s extremely large and wears very brightly colored clothing all the time. Her daughter is in charge of the housework and cooking, her granddaughter works on the road that is being constructed close by, and there are three children: Lilly is in grade 8, Madoda is in grade 6 and Siya is in grade 1. Their parents live and work in Cape Town. They seem like lovely children and I’m excited to get to know them. Siya is adorable.

I am living in a mud hut with a corrugated tin roof. There are about 5 huts on the farm, and I’m not sure who sleeps where. Lilly is sleeping in my hut with me, but there is a curtain to separate our spaces. I’m glad she’s here – I wouldn’t like to be totally alone.

Right now I’m lying in my comfortable double bed listening to the rain pounding down. The roof leaks just over the bottom corner of my bed, but I don’t mind. The sound is lulling me to sleep and, after this huge day, I am so thankful to be here.

Day 4

I have just been chased by a pack of dogs! I was walking across the yard wearing a long skirt when suddenly I felt something pulling at my skirt. I looked down to see it was one of the 9 dogs and I calmly yelled at it to let go. Before I knew it the other 8 dogs were all surrounding me in a circle barking like crazy. I didn’t even have time to get scared before Madoda ran out of the hut yelling “What is up! What is up!” They listened to him immediately and I was out of danger right away. I've always loved animals, but I wouldn't like to be on the dogs' bad side. They are kept very hungry and are primarily here for security.

My first day of school was very full and interesting. I observed all of the teachers and was so impressed! The grade 8/9 Maths and Technology teacher’s named is Mr. Hobyi and he is great. I watched him teach a lesson about integers and he was teaching the students about credit. He kept saying “No money is better than owing credit. No money is what?” and then the students had to answer back “Owing credit!” He has such a positive energy and does lots of moving around the room. He had students coming up to the board to answer questions and it was fun to watch.

I also watched the language teacher give a year 7 English Lesson. I was surprised at how modern and useful the textbooks are that they are using. At the end of the lesson I told the teacher that I really enjoyed watching her lesson. She looked at me and said “We work very hard.” I said “I know. I can tell.”

It’s the weekend now and I’m nervous and excited about spending two whole days with my host family. I’m thinking a lot about why I’m here. It will no doubt be a life changing experience for me and teach me more than I can imagine – but I wonder how me being here will benefit this community? Today I was at a 5 room school with no electricity and observed lessons, but what can I possibly share with them? I have no idea how to help them – and in lots of ways I don’t know if they need help. I want these children to have the best education possible – but that doesn’t mean that it has to be the way we do things in the UK or in Canada. I can hardly function in a classroom unless I’ve had access to a photocopier, but these teachers share chalk and board erasers. I don’t want how we do things in the UK to be held as the ideal – but maybe it is in some ways?

Day 5

I was pretty worried about spending all of this time with my host family this weekend, but now Saturday is over and it has been a great day. We woke up at 5 (which was an hour lie-in compared to the work week) and everybody was very busy with farm work. I tried to stay out of the way and did some reading and planning for next week’s lessons.

I feel like it’s taken me a few days to feel really settled and safe here – but I think I’m getting there.

This afternoon Aysha, another Global Teacher, found me! I knew that she lived close and this afternoon she said to her family “I want to walk this way!” and then pointed in the direction that she thought I lived. Before she knew it they were at my house. However, once they were in eyesight of my fence her mother made her stop and she called my mother on the mobile phone to tell her to chain up the dogs. (I know. It’s crazy that they have mobile phones and I can’t figure it out.) Apparently the dogs are famous in the village – and not in a good way!

Mamma and her daughter made us some food and we had a nice chat. After we were finished we walked to her house and all the time we were escorted by a trail of children. It was good to speak with Aysha and hear that she is having some of the same struggles and joys as I am. She taught me something very valuable that I didn’t know before. There are plastic crates outside of my room with loads of fruit, vegetables and a brand new fridge stocked with bottled water, some very strangely coloured sandwich meat and processed cheese slices. I admit that when I arrived I was surprised to see so much food, but I had nothing to compare it with and so thought it might be normal. Aysha’s family is much poorer than mine, and she figured out that all of this food is only for us and that normally they would only ever have the food they grow. When we were at Aysha’s she showed me by offering a banana to her host brother. He grabbed it and ate it like a lion attacking fresh raw meat. I’ve never seen somebody who is almost literally starving devour food before, but the look in his eyes is something that will be with me forever – and so is the fact that he only ate half of it and then gave some to his baby cousins even though he was clearly so hungry.

When I arrived back at my place (again, with half the village children in tow!), I offered everybody an apple. They all took them right away and so I will do that as much as I can from now on. There is way more food here than I can eat before it goes bad and the thought of me eating whist the children have nothing is enough to permanently arrest my appetite completely.

After the apple break I took out the balls that I brought along for the children to play with. There were about 10 assembled and I showed them a very swanky ball that I had bought from London. It has suction cups inside so you can play with it as a Frisbee or a ball…and when you throw it in Frisbee formation it sometimes pops into a ball in mid-air which I thought would be quite interesting and new.

I showed them how it worked and watched them play for a little while before I could tell that they weren’t interested. They tried to throw it like a Frisbee, but they don’t have Frisbees. They tried to kick it like a UK football, which is what they really wanted, but it was too small and the suction cups stopped working because of all of the dirt. I ran back to my hut and got a tennis ball, tossed it over to them, and the posh ball from London was forgotten!

Something else crazy happened with the dogs tonight. It is Madoda’s job to move the cows from the pasture to the corral each evening. It is incredible to watch an 8 year old boy (and his 4 year old cousin) move a small heard of cattle about 3 miles with nothing but braided grass, but that’s just what happens each evening. So tonight the cows were all dutifully turning the corner into the corral when suddenly the big bull decided to keep walking straight and not turn. Madoda yelled something and suddenly all 8 dogs surrounded the bull – the very huge bull with two pointed horns, I might emphasize. They barked at the bull and lept at him and the bull bowed his head and began to poke at them violently. The dogs continued to bark and bite the bull and all of a sudden he turned toward the opening in the fence and went in. One of the dogs had a small flesh wound from the horns, but other than that they were unscathed. I can’t believe these dogs can take on a bull and win.

Overall it was a great day. Lisa, my deputy head teacher, called and said she has booked us places at a private game reserve along with Stewart, Troy and Catherine. I’m so looking forward to seeing some real African animals!

The electricity is not working and I’m using my headtorch. I can hear big bugs dropping from the ceiling onto the floor and I think that means it’s time for bed.

Day 6

Another day in South Africa. Sometimes when I’m walking from one hut to another and I feel the dry, cracked earth beneath me I just whisper to myself ‘Africa. Africa. Africa.’ I feel like I belong here at this moment.

Today began with chores at about 6 – and I was surprised that we slept so late. Madoda and Siya moved the cows and goats and I helped Lily and her sister with the clothes washing.

Yesterday I said to Mama ‘tomorrow we go to church?’

‘You go church?’ she replied, confused?

‘In England, yes. You go?’

‘Not me. Too much work. You go Lily.’

So after the laundry we ate some breakfast – which was 2 huge sandwiches made with scrambled eggs, cheese, lettuce and some unidentifiable meat. They were tasty, but I could only eat half of one of them. I gave one half to mama, one to Lily and one to Madoda and they grabbed them right off. The bread tastes very sweet.

After eating I cleaned my room and swept out my hut. I don’t want Mama and her daughter to have to do it for me, so it’s important that I do it each day. When I come home in the evenings Mama’s daughter has always straightened up my room and it makes me feel lazy. Which, let’s face it, compared to them I really am!

Lily then took me to church. We walked a long way in the hut dust – past Nomzamo and into another little valley and out the other side. After a while we arrived at a metal gate still padlocked with nobody else in sight. I could see a concrete steeple and church building on the other side of the fence, but the grass was about 4 feet high and there was no path to the front door. I wondered about how often it’s used.

Lily and I sat there for about an hour trying to communicate with each other. ‘It’s a Roman Church’, she explained, and I understood. I wondered about if Catholicism is the dominant form of Christianity among the Xhosa people as we waited.

Aysha’s family arrived and we waited together. A very thin old man with midnight black skin and veins protruding out of his face like roadmaps joined our group and slowly produced some keys from his pocked. As he was struggling with the padlock I noticed how large his trousers were compared to his small body – the waist of his trousers would have easily gone twice around him and they were tightly cinched up with a leather belt. He wore a navy blue collared shirt and a blazer filled with holes at the elbows with sleeves that didn’t extend much past there either. He unlocked the padlock and I noticed that he wore and small tin cross on the pocket of his blazer attached by a safety pin. He was the minister.

Two chairs were placed outside of the main door to the building and Aysha and I were told to sit while the church was being prepared. Women swept it out with straw brooms and an old calendar from 2003 that had been sent by a missionary society was produced with great pride for us to look through. The congregation slowly gathered – mostly very old women and young children. We had catholic hymn books that had been translated into isiXhosa and I felt sad about that. They sang and read but the melodies did not flow out of their rhythmic selves the way that the songs of their ancestors do. I had been expecting a full on ‘African’ church service with dancing and singing and instead we prayed 16 stations of the cross. I know, I didn’t know there were that many either.

We walked home in the late afternoon sun and as we grew closer I heard the sound of drums and music coming out of a group of huts in the distance. The music sounded tribal and earthy, and I was really interested in what it was. I asked Lily and she replied ‘That is church too’ I said ‘Lily – I want to go to that church with the music!’ She looked at me with horror and said ‘No – that church is not for you. Too wild.’

When we got back home I told Mama I wanted to go to that church. She said ‘Yes, my girl is at that church. You go too. Is our church.’ I think they thought the music or the way that people were acting might have been too crazy for a white westerner like me. And who knows – maybe they’re right!

Mama also handed me a big stick tonight and said ‘you have this for dogs.’ When I came back out into the yard without the stick she said ‘no. always with stick.’ So I carry the stick whenever I’m outside of the hut, and it works. When one of the dogs gets too close all I have to do is raise the arm holding the stick and the cower and run. For somebody like me, who is a 'foster parent' for the RSPCA in London, this is difficult to see. But then again, after the bull incident I'm glad to know I have some control over them too!

There was so much rain tonight. My hut leaks right over my bed, but some creatively placed pots and buckets solved the problem. The electricity went out, so Lily lit a candle and I took out the torches I brought along. I gave Siya and Madoda some colouring pencils and they went absolutely mad. They all sat down immediately, even Lily, and began to draw. Lily drew a house (complete with a television and carpet and other stuff she doesn’t have), Madoda drew his school using a ruler and Siya drew shapes. They are fantastic children.

I am relieved that the weekend is over and can’t wait for some proper teaching soon.

Day 7

What a full day! The CFGS students were at Nomzamo all day today and it made time pass so quickly. It was an incredible thing to watch the students meet each other and interact. As their van drove down the lane the people of the village and staff and students were overcome with excitement and began to sing and dance and chase after the car. It was incredible.

I was really struck by how alert, attentive and engaged the Nomzamo pupils were and how they shared traditional songs and dances pretty willingly. Sometimes I felt as though our students weren’t as engaged – they took so many photos and it seemed sometimes like they were watching a show instead of really participating. I guess I just want to hold the pupils at Nomzamo in as high a regard as possible and I guess I don’t really know what that means.

Our girls were great though, and they shared their choreographed dances with the students as well – in a huge grass field with goats watching on with curiosity! I can’t imagine how it must be to negotiate this experience at the age of 15 or 17.

As I was watching the students enjoy each other it dawned on me that what I really want is for all of the students from both schools to recognize themselves in the other and not see each other as bizarre or strange. It's a lot to ask, and if it was easily possible the world would be a lot different. And better.

The principle of my school, Mrs. Faku, came to my house after school. We sat around for a while and ate and drank together. When she left I walked her to the gate. She was wearing what any 65 year old school principal would wear in the UK or in Canada - a blazer and a skirt, and she was carrying a soft sided brief case packed with papers and books. I said good-bye to her at the gate and watched her walk down the dusty path. As soon as she started walking I thought to myself ‘I could really be anywhere at this moment’. Then I watched her place the briefcase squarely on her head. She stopped for a moment to check that it was balanced and then I watched her walk almost to the horizon without touching it again at all.

Tonight Madoda and Siya placed jenga and colored with me all night. I made a salad for supper because Mama said ‘you make salad’, and when Mama tells you to make something, you listen. Every night for dinner has been boiled chicken, rice, potatoes and sometimes maise and beat salad. I like that I know what to expect. It makes me feel safe.

Day 8

I am sitting on my bed writing by candle light tonight! I don’t know that I’ve ever written totally by candle light before. It feels cozy and a bit like I should be writing something very romantic and secret.

It has been a lovely day. I’m starting to fall into a rhythm and it’s making me feel more comfortable and peaceful. I do worry about not helping out enough with meals and washing up – but whenever I ask now they all laugh at me! And I don’t mean giggling, either – I mean red faced breathless laughter!

I taught my first real lesson today and it was great. Me and my colleagues here decided that I would do whole day language workshops with each class which will mean 5 days of full teaching. Nomzamo is by far the smallest school in the partnership and while other Global Teachers are working building libraries and staff rooms we just don’t have any extra space at all for those kinds of projects.

Today was grade 1 and 2 – and it was a tiring day! The children range in age from about 2 – 5. I think many students, including my little Siya, have to come to school because there is nobody at home to look after them during the day. The children sit on broken benches and tables that are much too big for them, but they all had very dirty exercise books and pencils, which is really all an English teacher needs. You can see in the pictures below the chairs that our students from CFGS fundraised for and purchased whilst they were here.

The lesson started with some alphabet flash cards I brought from home to give to the school. Some of the older children could identify the letters, but many could not. After we drilled some of the letters I read them a story that I had enlarged and laminated for them to use. The story is called ‘Baba’s Boat’ and it is set in Africa so they recognized the red earth and the big ‘Mama’ in the story. They loved the story, and after it was done they all learned to write the word ‘boat’ and then they drew a picture.

Part of what I’m doing here is modeling ways to teach that are interactive and alternative to lectures and repeating after the teacher, so the next activity saw me attempt to place them into groups. Each group got a big piece of paper with a letter of the alphabet written on it. They worked together to decorate the piece of paper and then I placed them all in plastic protectors and we made a display on the wall. They were so impressed with how lovely it made their classroom look, and I hope their teachers can use it as a resource to teach letter and word parings. We had a meeting a lunch to form a school development plan and to make a list of resources that the school needs so that we know how we can best help. The teachers are very clear about what they would like, and the top of their list is computers. Before the computers, though, they’ll need electricity!

I’m beginning to enjoy our after school routine. Loads of children walk me home and then we relax until Mama gets home. Once she arrives I make her a snack (because she says ‘Sara, I’m hungry’), and then we chat until supper is ready, and then it’s basically time for bed. All the while the children stay with me and play games and color and I love their company.

I just discovered I can do shadow puppets on the mud wall of my hut! Fantastic – who needs television?!

Day 9

Today was a break from the normal routine. All of the Global Teachers and our principals met in the small town of Qumbu for a meeting led by Stewart and Lisa. The point of the meeting was to plan the joint projects that our schools will undertake and formalize how they will happen. It was a good meeting and it feel fantastic to see everybody again! All the other Global Teachers seem to be doing very well with many of the same stories as I have.

Speaking of Lisa – she is hear for a sleepover! It’s so lovely to have her here, and it has been fun to give her a tour of the huts as though I’ve lived here forever! We have spent the evening playing with the children and checking out all of the animals.

This afternoon we went to the closest hospital for a visit and to see Mama who sells food on a stand outside the main entrance to the hospital. It was hilarious to see her there – she is such a character. A young doctor was giving us a tour and we arrived at the director’s office. Once the director showed us into her office Mama sat down in the big leather chair behind her desk! She obviously owns the entire area in a powerful way! The young doctor showed us some of the buildings and explained how many of the services like x-rays, radiation and plastering are no longer offered at the hospital because there is no funding. It was very sad and when he offered us a tour of the wards we all declined. Maybe it was too much reality? Maybe it was not being able to bear the feeling of helplessness?

He took us into a retirement party for a nurse and we found ourselves awkwardly being introduced to an entire roomful of people whilst the nurse who was retiring looked at us like we were seriously stealing her thunder. It was embarrassing indeed and I hate being the centre of attention like that.

My favorite part of the day happened as we went to leave the hospital. We obviously gave Mama a ride home, and she had the contents of her stall to transport as well. Mrs. Faku and Lisa were also there and Mr. Magoqoza was the driver, but he only has a small truck. So it came time to pile in and Mama hopped in the backseat of the cab with the contents of her stall. Mr. Magoqoza obviously had to drive, and Mrs. Faku is an old woman (and wears a wig) so she couldn’t very well sit in the box of the truck. So that left Lisa and I! We piled in and were glad to do so, but it made Mrs. Faku crazy. She just kept looking at us saying ‘this is funny. This is not right.’ But Lisa eventually convinced her that we didn’t’ mind. As the truck sped through the dusty roads the villages pointed and laughed at us hysterically. I guess two white people in the back of a pick-up truck isn’t an every day occurrence. Go figure!

Days 10 and 11

Yesterday I taught grade 3 and 4 but I was so tired by the time evening came I couldn’t write! It was a day that I felt good about. I’ve been feeling guilty for not having more lessons planned before I came here, but I really had no idea what I was going to be able to share with these children until I got here.

I began the lesson with the same story that I used for grade 1 and 2 students. I read the story to them and then I divided them into groups and gave each group a large piece of sugar paper. On each piece of sugar paper I’d written a comprehension question in big black letters like ‘where do the children go with Baba?’ and then left a large amount of space for them to answer their question using words and images. The activity began slowly as they are not used to working in groups to solve problems. With some encouragement they began practicing using English and taking turns writing and drawing answers. Only 2 of the groups answered their questions correctly though, so it tells me that their level of English is extremely low. They came to the front to present their projects right before the break and there were some pretty worried children! They gave it a solid go though, and it reinforced to me the fact that the best way to learn an additional language is to speak it out loud.

During the break I taught them the song Boogaloo (my UK colleagues will have no idea - but my Naramata Centre colleagues will be nodding their heads and thinking 'of course') and it was a huge hit. I also blew up a load of balloons and taught a numeracy lesson by having them pass them back and forth and count out loud for as long as they could withouth dropping the balloon.

A grand compliment came to me from their regular classroom teacher at the end of the day. She came to me, with a very stern expression, and said "I like this. It is like you are playing games, and teaching things at the same time."

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not here to change anything at all. I'm just hear to listen to their stories and to share what works for me as a teacher. In the presentation I had to give to get this job I said I was going to South Africa to listen, and that's what I'm doing. I came solidly with that attitude becuase I had no idea what I was going to find when I got here. But the first day I spent here I knew how I might be able to work with this small group of South Africans - and today affirmed that what I'm doing is what they want. And that, after all, is the point.

Tonight, for a welcome change of pace, I find myself at the Inkwenkwezi private game reserve. I think Lisa and Stewart could hear the loneliness in our voices and booked us a blissful two nights in what were called ‘luxury camping’ facilities. Mr. Magoqoza drove me in to Qumbu after school on Friday and I met Lisa, Stewart, Troy and Catherine the lovely home where Lisa and Stewart are staying. And just for the record can it be noted that their house has running water, a full western bathroom, a fridge stocked with cold drinks and a satellite dish. Ah. That feels better.

These luxury camping facilities have turned out to be amazing. Lisa and I are sharing a large, hotel room sized tent that is pitched on top of a huge wooden platform. The fully functional bathroom includes a stone shower that opens over the lush green valley. It’s basically like showering outside under a waterfall! It is pretty extraordinary and the contrast between this and the village is honestly making my head spin. It certainly can’t be the cocktails and wine that we had with dinner, in combination with lack of food for 2 weeks and the blazing African sun.

I’ve just had a shower and I was so dirty that I could see the red earth pour off of my body and splash onto the stone floor of the cave. I looked out of the shower at the midnight sky alight with the most beautiful stars I’ve ever seen and felt the village being washed off of me. To my surprise, I felt like something was missing after that shower, and I didn’t like it.

Day 13 and 14

I’m back ‘home’ now, and glad to be here. The game reserve was amazing. We spent the weekend in awe of the luxury and I felt the constant pull of feeling relieved to have my amenities restored and guilt at knowing the excess with which I live is actually responsible for the inequality that permeates our world.

We drove the three hours back from East London to the village and it felt complicated to be coming back here. Catherine’s principal met us in Qumbu and I had to say goodbye to Stewart and Lisa. That means I’m here entirely on my own now – no more students and no more senior teachers. It felt sad and a little scary to know that Lisa isn’t there to rush to my rescue!

Troy and I piled into the back of Catherine’s Principal’s truck and she and he rode in the front. We enjoyed the hour long ride and watched the sun falling lower and lower over the soft rolling hills. The truck sped over the gravel roads way too fast with no headlights on but we felt safe and laughed and laughed. As the sun disappeared for the evening I began to realize that I didn’t know exactly where the turn off was to my specific group of huts. I was able to point out the turn-off from the main road and then we were in 5 foot tall grass trying to navigate down a dirt path where the bottom of the truck kept getting stuck in huge holes.

Luckily, just when I was starting to get a little bit worried, we spotted a boy walking through the grass. Catherine’s principal asked him something quickly (probably something like ‘where is the white teacher staying?) and he jumped in the truck and led us right home (after a brief period where we all had to get out and push!) When we arrived in front of the gate the dogs began to go crazy and suddenly Siya and Madoda surrounded me with huge planks of wood that were on fire like torches. It feels good to be home.

Three tiny kittens were born while I was gone. They live in an old corn sack in the kitchen where it’s warm for most of the time. Sometimes I think this place is magic.

Day 15

Today I taught all 47 grade 9 students and I feel like a teacher warrior! Two nights ago I wrote a 12 page story about a young teacher who arrives in the village and feels very welcomed and excited to be there. I copied it out by hand 8 times and used it as the basis for my lesson. We read it out loud together as a class and then they worked in groups to answer some questions. It is so crowded in the room and some of the boys are so large that it was difficult to go around to each group. Also, the lesson started very late because the grade nine students are in charge of watering the garden and since they have no hose it takes almost an hour in the morning for them to carry the water from the container to the garden.

After we worked with the story I taught them how to write their own stories. I gave each student a post-it note and asked them to write the name of some characters on one of them and the names of some places on the other one. I then left a space in the middle of the board where we brainstormed an entire list of problems. After that students came up to the front one by one and choose 2 post-its that weren’t their own and a problem. Then they wrote a story starring those characters, set in the location dictated and based around one of the problems on the list. Many of them struggled with vocabulary but I think it taught them that it’s not so difficult to be a creative writer.

They weren’t very chatty or excited, and so I wondered what they thought of the lesson. It’s Lily’s class, and while she’s been super friendly to me during my stay, she’s made it clear that she doesn’t want to be my friend. She never waits for me after school and purposely took me through the mud on our way to school yesterday – I’m sure of it! Anyway, I was walking home today with Siya and Madoda and Lily and her friends caught up with us. She said ‘English good today,’ and my heart actually leapt. I was so relieved. I guess pleasing teenagers is difficult in every culture– and the feeling when one succeeds is equally as satisfying no matter what ones surroundings happen to be!

I’ve been exchanging text message with Catherine, Troy and Ayesha and some of the others and have realized that this experience has really bonded me with these people for life. Nobody else in the world will ever really know what it was like to be here and experience this. I’m glad they’re with me, and their friendship is not something that I expected would come out of this experience. But then again, so much has happened during this trip that I didn’t expect.

I had a conversation with Catherine tonight on the phone about some frustrations that we’re both having. I guess the closer you get to something, or the better you get to know it, the easier it becomes to see the flaws and cracks. We were talking about methodology and about what might actually change after we leave. Up until now it’s been hard to voice anything but admiration for these teachers and what they do – but there are some things that frustrate me. There is too much repeat-after-me and the students do not actually understand what they are repeating. Today I gave Mrs. Ahosa a book about South Africa for children. When I went into her lesson this afternoon I saw that she had copied out the entire introduction and the children were writing furiously. The vocabulary was so difficult there is no way they understood. I’ve tried to model different ways of working with children and youth and I believe that they teach vital skills and allow for more independent learning. I hope it helps.

Mama is in Durban tonight buying items for her stall. It feels strange without her here – like we’re all a bit more vulnerable. The dogs are barking like crazy – I wonder if they know she’s not here?

Day 16 and 17

Yesterday was an incredible day – so incredible that I was too tired to write! Mo, another Global Teacher, displayed outstanding initiative and organized a Sports Day for all of the schools in the partnership. Organizing a sports day in the villages (or the locations, as the locals call them) is difficult. It means organizing transportation to the host school, it means organizing food for the students and it means ensuring that they students have appropriate uniform so that they can be proud to play against other schools.

I’ve already stated, transportation of an entire netball team and an entire football team is complicated in the villages – and expensive. The teachers had organized for transport to arrive at the school at 8:30. To my amazement, it did. It consisted of a very old truck with an extended back. In the back there were two long benches made of wood, and that’s where the students rode. As they piled in I could see the tiny rubber tires shrinking more and more under their weight and I laughed. Suddenly the drive of the truck started yelling at some of the teachers loudly. Then, the students were piling out of the truck with looks of confusion painted on their faces. Before I knew it the truck was speeding away from the school in a cloud of dust and we were left there, with lots of excited teenagers and no transportation.

Now you have to understand that if this were to happen in the UK there would be a serious emergency. If our transportation bailed on us we would do something crazy like pay for taxis or just cancel the trip altogether. So I went over to Mrs. Faku to find out what the problem was.

“Mrs. Faku, where did the driver go?” I queried, hoping that it was no big deal.

“The car is too crowded and he is very angry.”

“Why is he angry? Did you tell him how many students were traveling?”

“No. We lied to him or else he wouldn’t have come.” She responded.

“Is he coming back Mrs. Faku?” I asked in a small, confused voice.

“No. He is not.” She answered plainly.

“What will we do?” I asked, growing very worried and thinking about how our absence would affect all of Mo’s planning – not to mention the students who were looking at us with wide eyes.

“We will do something.” She responded, without a hint of worry at all.

“Well Mrs. Fauku, has anybody called another transport? I’m worried” I said – growing visibly frustrated.

“Sara. Do not worry.” She offered, laughing and smiling. Suddenly she began to sing a song that the children sing each morning before they go to their lessons:

“Why worry when you can pray? Trust Jesus, he will be the way. Don’t be a doubting Thomas. Just lean upon his promise. Why worry, worry, worry, worry when you can pray?”

She laughed and laughed as her feet moved along the dusty ground, dancing. Suddenly the rest of the teachers joined her, clapping and moving to the beat of the song. It was hilarious and I couldn’t very well be stressed about transportation then, could I?

We all sat down under the hot sun and chatted and waited. I don’t know how, as I didn’t see anybody make telephone calls or engage in other forms of communication, but 75 minutes later a new, bigger truck showed up and we were all off to the sports day. It was a great day of community building and Mo did a great job. Nomzamo didn’t win either competition, but we sure had fun cheering them on….especially Mrs. Fauku!

Day 18

Today is my last day in the village, my last day in this hut, my last day at school. My last evening with the children.

I am humbled when I think back about how I have felt at various moments during this experience. I have tried to have my eyes wide open to hear their stories but sometimes I have failed. I emptied my washing water into the bushes and I spilled it squarely on my shoes and all over my trousers. I thought to my self, in anger and frustration, “Fuck! Who lives like this!” I turned back my bedcovers and found loads of army ants, silverfish and millipedes crawling on my sheets. I thought to myself “These people are not clean.” I have seen educators wasting time on purpose or I’ve seen them trying to pass off their lessons to me and I have thought “These teachers are lazy.” I have had my clothes ripped by dogs and been laughed at and I have thought “Inconsiderate, rude people.”

I have thought these things at low points along this experience and now I feel embarrassed. I wonder what someone from another culture and tradition would think of my life? “Why does she rush everywhere? Why does she speak so fast? Why does she live so far away from her family?” And even worse than that, I’m sure.

Today was my leaving ceremony at school. It’s difficult to describe what it felt like to be so immediately loved and to know that I’ll be so missed by people I’ve known for a little less than a month. The ceremony started with a drive up to the hospital to pick up Mama. It was lovely because Siya decided to come with us – he just hopped into the car without even being invited to come. Siya and I have a serious understanding. He is so used to lots of attention, and I think the fact that I gave him some space and just sat with him for so many evenings without bothering him makes him trust me. I’ve probably watched him play Jenga for at least 15 hours during this visit – and I’ve loved it.

Anyway, we drove up to the hospital to get Mama and then were dropped off at our house to change. The teachers handed me a package filled with a bright yellow and earthy brown fabric and I saw that it was a traditional African outfit that I was meant to wear. I put on the skirt and top and then took the long rectangular piece of fabric to Mama in her hut. She wrapped it around my head several times, tucked it into a few places and then quickly stuck some pins inside. Then, she looked at me and smiled such a large, genuine smile. I felt emotional and like I was truly part of her family.

Loads of students and teachers came to collect us at home and we all walked back to school. Lots of preparation had been going on whilst we were gone and there was a small stage, chairs and even some banners set up outside of the school in the hot sun and red dirt. There was a specially decorated chair in the middle of the head table and I presumed it was for me. As soon as Mama saw it she went right to it and sat herself down. She is Mama, after all. Mrs. Faqu said something to here quickly in Xhosa, but she didn’t move and that was fine with me.

There followed many speeches, most of which I couldn’t understand. They were translated by Mr. Magoqoza but I’m not sure how much detail he was able to provide. For example, the chief of the village was there and spoke at length. People laughed and seemed really engaged in what he was saying so I was anxious to hear the translation. I looked at Mr. Magoqoza anxiously and he said:

“The chief says he is very happy that you have come to our village. He wishes to visit you in the UK.”

I’m sure there was more than that – but I appreciate the effort! My favorite moment was when Mama gave her speech. She spoke for a long time and I could make out the words ‘Inga’ (dog) ‘Paquay’ (goat), ‘Humba’ (get out) and ‘Puma’ (go). When what she said was translated I learned that she explained that she was impressed with how quickly I adapted to village life. She told everybody that I dealt with the dogs by learning the commands that would make them leave me alone and that I was very helpful around the huts. That made me feel pretty proud as I don’t think mama throws away too many compliments.

As I’ve said, I couldn’t understand much of the ceremony but I didn’t need to understand the words to experience the intense sense of community that was present. I respect that so much. Everybody knows the same songs and dances and their specific part. And do they know how to celebrate! There is nothing reserved about celebrating here. There is no sense that one might be too loud or too filled with joy. Sometimes I’m afraid to show extreme emotions because I don’t want to stand out or seem different. The way that the Xhosa people celebrate here is something that I can learn from – that sense of celebration and the sense of hospitality is so important for healthy communities and a healthy world.

From what I have seen, heard and experienced over the past weeks, the most important part of the Xhosa culture is the ability of, and even requirement for, each member of the community to hold responsibility equally for the health of the community. They look after each other and understand that an individual’s success is inextricably linked to the success of the community. Having lived in London for the past three years, one of the most individualistic places I’ve ever been, that was an essential revelation. In fact, it was the revelation of the trip for me. Until I start caring about my neighbour (metaphorical, physical or whatever else) as much or more than I care about myself, I don’t think our broken world has a chance of healing itself.