Here I sit, with my boarding pass in hand, less than 24 hours before my departure to Boston via London. The past few days have been dizzying and I've had little time to process the finality of leaving. A new volunteer has arrived, and just as I've been trying to pack her with all the information she needs (e.g. don't use the toilet between 6:40 and 7:20 PM, or you'll find yourself dodging nocturnal flying rats), I've been trying to tie things in a bow. I've always craved closure, and I've always made a point of leaving things right. For Uganda, that has meant setting up a mini-post office in the school's office, with $100 worth of stamps, as well as envelopes and paper, so kids can write to me. It's funny, they have lots of stories in their curriculum about "pen friends." But for nearly all of them, I think the first time they saw a stamp was today.
It seems that in the past two days the floodgates have opened as kids have realized that I'm leaving. I've received nearly 100 little notes, carefully scrawled onto torn out pages of their exercise notebooks. For those who know someone with a phone, I've gotten phone numbers of sisters, brothers, and uncles. I am leaving with no fewer than 15 "pen friends," with requests for several more (some of which I will be shortly farming out to you folks, FYI. I am particularly in need of boys. I already roped in Pratt, whose little pal Henry eagerly put his first thoughtfully penned letter in my hand to deliver to Pratt yesterday).
Yesterday was a really special day because I bought new textbooks for all 100 of my students in P6. One of the things that was hardest for me to watch was how they would fight viciously over the textbooks, straining to see, as there was only one for every four students crammed on a bench. Often the only "reading" they would get was whatever they could do over two people's shoulders. Before I left, Kristin, my dear friend and sectionmate from HBS, as well as my Mom and Doug, gave me some money to donate to the school. I decided I would pool this money and buy new textbooks for P6-- one-hundred, one so that every child could have one. Bringing the textbooks up to the school was so heartwarming. I gathered about twenty kids and walked with them down to Moeses' house to carry them up the hill to the school. As they put them on their heads, and looked around, they started chattering to themselves in Lusoga. Finally, I asked what they were saying. One girl told me, "Madam. They are many. We think maybe one for all the children." And I said, "Yes. There is one for every one of you." Then they cheered.
That day, English went amazingly well. As we read aloud, the chorous of voices was four times as loud as it had been. When I asked what words they didn't understand in the passage, tons of hands shot up (I'd asked this nearly every day before, but as no one could see, no one had any questions). It was just so wonderful to see this simple solution to a major resource gap. Kristin, Mom, Doug-- the kids say thank you. I'm bringing some little scrawled notes your way.
One of the refrains that kept coming up in the little notes that I've been getting was, "Madam Shannah, why are you living?" They obviously meant "leaving." But the question they asked by mistake is the one I will take with me. I don't know that I have the answer. What I do know, though, is that a piece of the answer lives in the children of Kyabirwa.
It seems that in the past two days the floodgates have opened as kids have realized that I'm leaving. I've received nearly 100 little notes, carefully scrawled onto torn out pages of their exercise notebooks. For those who know someone with a phone, I've gotten phone numbers of sisters, brothers, and uncles. I am leaving with no fewer than 15 "pen friends," with requests for several more (some of which I will be shortly farming out to you folks, FYI. I am particularly in need of boys. I already roped in Pratt, whose little pal Henry eagerly put his first thoughtfully penned letter in my hand to deliver to Pratt yesterday).
Yesterday was a really special day because I bought new textbooks for all 100 of my students in P6. One of the things that was hardest for me to watch was how they would fight viciously over the textbooks, straining to see, as there was only one for every four students crammed on a bench. Often the only "reading" they would get was whatever they could do over two people's shoulders. Before I left, Kristin, my dear friend and sectionmate from HBS, as well as my Mom and Doug, gave me some money to donate to the school. I decided I would pool this money and buy new textbooks for P6-- one-hundred, one so that every child could have one. Bringing the textbooks up to the school was so heartwarming. I gathered about twenty kids and walked with them down to Moeses' house to carry them up the hill to the school. As they put them on their heads, and looked around, they started chattering to themselves in Lusoga. Finally, I asked what they were saying. One girl told me, "Madam. They are many. We think maybe one for all the children." And I said, "Yes. There is one for every one of you." Then they cheered.
That day, English went amazingly well. As we read aloud, the chorous of voices was four times as loud as it had been. When I asked what words they didn't understand in the passage, tons of hands shot up (I'd asked this nearly every day before, but as no one could see, no one had any questions). It was just so wonderful to see this simple solution to a major resource gap. Kristin, Mom, Doug-- the kids say thank you. I'm bringing some little scrawled notes your way.
One of the refrains that kept coming up in the little notes that I've been getting was, "Madam Shannah, why are you living?" They obviously meant "leaving." But the question they asked by mistake is the one I will take with me. I don't know that I have the answer. What I do know, though, is that a piece of the answer lives in the children of Kyabirwa.
"Madam Shannah, why are you living?"
ReplyDeleteYou are living to make a better world for the children one day at the time.
May G-d continue to bless us with your determination.
Have a sfe trip home
Love
Dad