Ordinary Days

This spot of Africa becomes more familiar. I no longer feel the pull to take a picture of every woman who is carrying a chitengi-wrapped baby on her back or balancing a bowl on her head. I can now pass most roosters escorting their hen harems, though several chicks scuttling after their mother still get my attention. Now, I don’t look twice when kids pass chewing on sugar cane or on the cobs of green maize whose kernels are actually pale yellow. I guessed that the grey veil that dropped like a theater curtain across part of the mountain vista yesterday was most likely a rain shower and, sure enough, it eventually reached us.

After six weeks of almost daily rain, it is odd to hear that there has been no rain for four days in places nearby, and that the maize is suffering. On the way to church, Fr. Phillip pointed out dry fields where the rain has been scarce this year. The crops are beginning to turn brown and limp. “These people will starve again next year,” he said. The clouds are fickle, skipping over some areas, nearly flooding others. It’s sticky hot and the sun blazes in the blue sky. I think I can empathize with the thirsty animals in Bringing the Rain to Kapiti Plain, even though I’m surrounded by lush greenery.

The girls in white dresses who will lead the entrance procession at Mass gather on the church steps. Several of them play a game with rocks and a small papaya. Toss up the fruit, move one rock into a circle. Toss it up again, move two, until they reach ten. They are adept at this. They are also skilled at the graceful dance they’ll soon begin when the choir and the drums and percussion instruments provide a beat. A few of them try to teach me some of the steps. We all laugh. Later, I take pictures of them and of their mothers and grandmothers. Pretty soon, half a dozen men are waiting for photos as well. They are all dressed in Sunday best, many with rosaries around their necks like jewelry, and they pose with proud smiles. I’ll get prints made in Blantyre, and send them back to this church with Fr. Phillip. I am reminded again of the gulf between us, between a photo print that would cost them half a day’s wages and my digital camera whose cost would nearly pay their teenager’s school fees through secondary school.

Today is Monday. After today’s familiar breakfast of Corn Flakes (Kellogg’s), juice, and toast with marmalade, I head for Standard 3. I’ve packed a bag of reading materials which today include real fruits, an apple, a pear, a banana, an avocado, a green lemon and a green orange and a tomato. We’ll probably argue about whether the tomato should be on the vegetable chart or the one that says fruit. The head master has made an empty classroom available for me, so I’ll just need to drag in a chair and table. When I arrive at the Standard 3 classroom the teacher will yell, “Silence,” and the roar of more than 300 voices will subside. I’ll hold up small name cards and call 7 or 8 names. My small group will prance across a grassy space to our room. I’ll repeat this three times. Every day, I am reminded of ASB and Jeanette’s “Cucumber” groups crossing the street to the Mary house for a special reading class. My groups are more like tossed salad I think. Most of these particular children began school late or have repeated one or more grades. Several children are 15, one is 16, wide-eyed, eager to learn. Most are 10 or 12. There are some 8, 9 and 10 year olds as well. Why is nobody 11? I don’t know. I am told that many don’t really now how old they are, nor do their parents remember exactly when they were born.

We do Slingerland printing, making letters with big arm movements in the air. We learn the words, in English, for some vegetables and fruits, and we talk about the sound of /s/ in the word is and in the word this. How confusing is the English language! I’ll bring out the small kite Chet made for us to use with the letter kK card. We’ll read from copies of a small book, about animals riding in a truck, that was downloaded from an internet site. At the end I’ll assign each child an animal noise and we’ll act out the story. When they finally understand what I’m about, they’ll giggle. Then we’ll prepare to read the book Fruit. It says, “This is an apple.” “This is a tomato.” Tomato mystery solved! Later this week, I’ll choose reading selections from their Standard 3 English book. I’ll never know if these sessions will make much difference for these kids. It’s like putting a drop in an ocean. But today they’ll laugh and I’ll smile.

The big hairy spider that greeted us the other night was quite beautiful. After I posed the shoe and took pictures, Chet escorted it outside in a big pan. Perhaps an entomologist out there can tell me if we were wise to have released it, as it will probably find its way back inside. Now I look inside my slippers before inserting my feet.