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Published: December 4th 2008
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I could not be happier, simply being out of Port Elizabeth and on with my trip.
I am now in Chintsa, a teeny village on a bay on the Wild Coast. In fact, I’m staying at a hostel across the lagoon from the teeny village of Chintsa. The bus turned off the highway, then off a regional road, then off the paved back road onto a dirt and stone drive. A few kilometres along, we reached the hostel.
Only half an hour after getting here, I was off. The hostel had a free trip to a nearby school: Bulugha Farm School. We were taken there for a performance.
Bring there brought back so many memories of the rural schools I visited in Uganda with my volunteer project there. But it gave me such hope here, such joy to see the good things happening at Bulugha.
The old school was destroyed by fire. The current school was built in 1998 with donated funding. Electricity was put in thanks to a $500 donation from New York. The Nelson Mandela Fund gave money for 10 computers; Nuremberg University gave funding for more. Yes! - this school has a computer lab!
What phenomenal skills these children can learn - both computer usage and farming! (There is a garden there, plus small livestock - cows and pigs). A feeding program was started by 2 German volunteers: the students receive porridge every morning and lunch every noontime. Every day, all 195 students are fed. Brilliant.
We first had time just to hang out, see the students, look in the 3 main classrooms and computer lab. Then we all packed into one classroom (many students watched through the windows from outside) for the main event: a concert.
What a show! For an hour, the students sang and danced. The little grade 1 - 3s sang “Twinkle Twinkle”, the “ABCs” and “the Parts of the Body” (a variation on Head & Shoulders, Knees and Toes). They were absolutely adorable! Some older boys did a “stomp” (rhythmic step dance) routine. And the school choice, made up of 60 or more of the older students sang song after song after song. Oh and those voices! The way they just open their mouths and let the sound pour out . . . it was astounding. As a musical theatre teacher, I couldn’t help by think, if
only every child back home could be so willing to let their voices come out!
The music was so powerful. You could feel it’s energy! The children so joyful - whether “onstage”, watching one another, or playing games with us. (They couldn’t get enough of our cameras - smiling for them, taking photos themselves, looking at themselves on camera.) Young young kids (I think children of the school staff maybe?) were running around playing hiding and smiling games with us. I loved them all.
Towards the end, a teacher spoke to us and asked if we thought ourselves able and the cause worthy, to contribute cents or dollars. The money goes to the school’s feeding program. They are also hoping to expand the school, as they are extremely crowded. For me, this was an emotional moment.
After my mugging in Port Elizabeth, I currently have next to nothing. My last days have continually been filled with thoughts of “if my card doesn’t arrive . . . how long can I last . . . what can I buy . . . how long can I stretch my pasta bread and canned tuna . . .? Yet I
still have so much more than the kids at this school. Somewhere in the world, I have money, a bank account, credit cards worth more than I make in a year, plus countless family and friends who can help me when I have no option to help myself. I felt a mixture of gratitude and guilt.
I thought about how much money, both in cash and in value of property, the thieves in Port Elizabeth walked away from me with. How ultimately none of it would be appreciated or valued. And how I was in a place that could so greatly benefit and value from the equivalent. I felt both angry, sad and again taken advantage of.
I thought about the money I had left: 376 rand (about $35 Canadian), every bill tucked away in a different pocket or bra. How much I need that money, but how to compare my need with the school’s. I recalled all the times I’ve known emptying my wallet couldn’t solve problems. I thought about what an experience it would be, to literally give all I have and can. But I know that choice, no matter how well-intentioned, is irresponsible. I gave
50 rand (about $6.29), a significant amount of what I have now, yet ultimately so little. I felt such a mix of things.
But ultimately, I felt joy and hope. When I am confronted by the mass big issues - poverty, AIDS for example - I often just feel overwhelmed, hopeless, powerless. Like I can do so little. But at Bulugha - “the little school with a big heart” the teacher called it - I saw that there really are places that not just need money, but truly benefit from it. You can give money somewhere to make an actual different. Every dollar, no matter how small, does help here. 50 rand isn’t a lot, but it’ll buy porridge and feed many of those students one morning. And that one morning matters.
I will never again question myself for donations I make. Not that they’re unworthy. But that every time I give, I feel guilt that it is never enough. I may finally now be able to accept that “enough” really isn’t the question at all. The fact that I give what I can and it does go somewhere . . . it really does add up to
make a difference. The teacher asked us to remember Bulugha School. I know I will. I’d like to be able to do more, when I am back in a position where I am able to do more. I know I can.
After our donations were collected and counted (471 rand = $59.21 from 10 of us), we were each asked to give our name and home country. The students clapped after each one and repeated our country’s names. For whatever reason, they really liked my name - I heard excited voices echoing “Jeanette” while they clapped. “Canada” was completely lost. Afterwards, a group of girls passed me and one said with a tone of satisfaction, “Jeanette”. I said, “Yes?” She just smiled and nodded.
We stood outside waiting for our return shuttle as the students assembled outside and the principal gave announcements. Then we watched them all rush off up the road, over the hills and back towards home.
I am so glad to have gone. And to have had this experience at this time.
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Ilan Mann
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Amazing!
This is an incredibly moving entry!