First Week in Malungeni

“Ubomi Bunzima” (Xhosa for “Life is hard.”)

I’m running late for school this morning. As I walk I hear only the sound of my footsteps in the road. The road is dirt and rocks and feels rough and uneven under my shoes. As I walk I pass the houses of the people of Malungeni. The people of those houses laugh as I butcher their language – “Molo” (Hello), I say. “Unjani?” (How are you?) Malungeni always seems to be full of laughter and joy and my impression is that people here are genuinely glad we are here. It’s hard for me to quiet the cynical voice in the back of my head that says, “You can’t change the world. You’re such a spoiled American. Your only hardship is that you don’t have the latest generation iPod.”

A small herd of cattle cross the road in front of me. I wait for them; they are on Africa Time. I admire Africa Time – it is time without time, a heartbeat without a measureable pulse. Time here does not stand still, but instead glides along and surprises me. The time taken for a smile and a wave of the hand takes an eternity while a lifetime flashes by in the blink of an eye.
I walk into the 4th Grade classroom and am greeted by the students standing to say, “Good Morning, Teacher. How are you today, Teacher?” And I blush.
After we are told that the teachers are leaving today because of a fee they must pay or traffic (I’m not sure which) and that we will be teaching the kids on our own, Linda, Molly and I are giving a lesson on pronouns: he, she, it, they. I am he; we are they; you are she. Comprehension is limited. We gently push one of the 4th graders to put an index card under the “they” category by saying, “Are students a girl? No!! Are students a boy? No!!” They seem to be under the weight of a scholastic burden to always be right. Or maybe they are just pre-pubescent kids who don’t want to look bad in front of their peers. So they smile blankly and say, “Yes.” Yesterday we spent a half hour trying to explain that pigs don’t say, “Woof, woof.” It seems that only ¼ of the students can really even understand English at all.

I have decided to stay with Wendy to teach what turns out to be a rather psychotic geography/astronomy lesson in which Wendy is the sun and I am the earth revolving around her. One of the students raises his hand to say “I don’t understand” and I feel so proud. It is the first time this week that any of the students has admitted to not comprehending what we say. I feel a rush of joy. And suddenly the bell has rung for school to end. “Are we having drama class today?” I’m asked, and I say that we don’t think we’re supposed to be at school after classes are over today. I’m a little sad because the kids all love drama and I actually feel like I have a purpose teaching drama.

At 3:00 we have a meeting with what seems to be the ladies social circle. The women leaders of the village really want to use their ability to do bead work and traditional dance to fund activities for the youth to keep them from drinking, drug and a general life of crime. The difficulties they face are enormous in a country that seems to be without hope. In my egcentric world it’s hard for me to imagine life without the internet, hot water, easy transportation. It’s hard for me not to say, “Here. Here is everything I have. Take it.” But that’s not why we are here. Thank God for Michael and her left brain. The meeting is over and we get ready to leave for East London for a weekend of comparative luxury.

We did a lesson earlier this week about needs vs. wants. I’m not sure I know the difference anymore.
-Chan Harris