Tomorrow is the first day of school! Well, at least here in Swaziland it is the first day of school. Oh, I have so many fond memories surrounding the first day of school. I remember a blue and red plaid school bag sitting on the sofa in my parent’s living room filled with new #2 pencils, Bic pens , colored pencils, loose leaf paper and a ‘Trapper Keeper’ folder. It was there the next morning when I came down the stairs in a freshly pressed and laundered outfit to sit down to a special back-to-school breakfast. I picked it up before heading out the front door to board a big yellow bus which brought me to school. Walking through the sparkling front doors of the school I was met with the smell of freshly waxed floors, polished wood, finger paints and new chalk.
My memories just don’t match up to what I have experienced here in Swaziland prior to the beginning of a new school year. For so many families there is the question of if they will even have the money to send their kids to school. Even if there is money, the quality schools (especially here in the rural area where we live) have many, many more applicants than places available.
This morning I got up early to pick up two young people from our community. They both want to complete their education and have their sights set on the ‘best’ school in this area. We drive off the main tar road, over dips and divots in the red rocky earth. We park under a tree and walk toward the school building. Grass is growing out of control. (On the first day of school, students will spend their time cutting down the grass and getting the grounds in order.) Trash bins are overflowing with garbage. (Yeah…students will take care of burning the trash and cleaning up the inside of the building too!) I even see a pair of girls underwear partially buried in the mud. (I have absolutely nothing to say about that…) A couple of skinny dogs are scavenging about the grounds. THIS is the school building on the day before school starts for the year?
We enter the stifling hot building only to be met with a grim faced woman. Flies buzz over a sticky spot on the scuffed wood counter. We state our business; looking for spots for the two young people I have transported. One, the 16 year old female, will have to come back tomorrow. She attended this school last year but failed her final exams so she will probably have to be beaten. After her punishment, the head teacher will determine if she is eligible to enroll in her grade. The other, a 21 year old male, continues to try and pass English in ‘Form 3’ (comparable to Grade 10). He has passed every other subject, but struggles with English. If he doesn’t pass English, he can’t move on towards the next level. Of course, there is more to his story. He has lost both of his parents. He lives with his grandmother and several younger siblings, nieces and nephews. He works part time to help bring money to the household. He is very active in his local church and youth group. He tries to study at night by candlelight. He is like a son to us…and Jacob’s best friend. I (somewhat vainly) believed that by accompanying him to the school office this morning I might be able to have some influence in the process. Well, you can’t influence a person making the decisions if that person just doesn’t show up!
So, we will go back tomorrow…
“Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.” ~ St. Augustine
