Aaaah - the Roller Coaster Ride of Emotions is always right at the back door waiting for - no - grabbing - passengers. Just about the time you think you’ve acclimated to a new way of
doing things, of living, of thinking the weird has become normal and you’ve become somewhat inured to heartbreaking sights and stories, something throws you on the ride. This week’s ride came... AGAIN... courtesy of the Sociopathic Head Teacher (we’ll call him SHT for short - how appropriate) at Peter’s
School.
To back up a bit, a small clutch of new volunteers arrived last week
and I was part of what’s called Tech Week, where volunteers are introduced to
some of the skills they might be using in their work. It was a great group and we’d spent a fair
amount of time together, so when
Saturday arrived we were off to play.
They wanted to meet Peter and shop so I was on my way to meet them at their hotel when I ran into Peter – out of school when he shouldn’t be
–and looking liked he’d just lost his best friend or afraid he might.
Near tears, he struggled to explain tell me that the SHT - known for
his merciless treatment of students - the same one who has literally turned his back on me
in the middle of “conversations,” who called Peter out in front of the whole school announcing that this former "street-kid is a piece of human waste - stay away from him," canes students at
night, boxes ears, etc. had found yet another way to damage
a student – this time sending Peter out of school for a week. He knows Peter has no home, has no way to get food and is in the midst of reviewing
for the exams that determine whether high school is possible.
During the last break between terms, you might recall that I
sponsored Peter for a leadership camp.
He came back so energized and motivated that he formed a group at school
and taught them about hygiene and built six hand-washing-stations around the
school. In other words, contributing in
a significant way, demonstrating his commitment to his school. He’s also been invited to represent the
street-kids at a conference. Life was turning around – so SHT had to up-the-ante to try and make sure that
doesn’t happen. Like I said – SHT is a
piece-of-work.
So when he expelled Peter from school for a week we were all a bit blindsided. Never giving him a chance to explain an
event that simply did not happen, but was reported by students who have been
led to believe they will gain favour by turning against another student
–SHT held all the power. When I visited
to ask what this was about, he characteristically turned his back on me and walked away, refusing to
talk. Can you imagine this happening at
a US school? In Uganda, Head Teacher’s
can get away with anything short of actual murder and that’s not an
exaggeration. There is no recourse, no
higher authority (except perhaps the ultimate Higher Authority) that will act, no student rights: even though they are referenced in
the Education Act, they are not enforced.
Teachers are so afraid of being fired without recourse – or worse, that
they will not report abuse. One teacher
went so far as to detail offenses (time, date, names) and sent the report blind
(for fear of retribution) to six high-ranking officials. To date – not a peep
out of anyone.
Students are required to suffer humiliating, dangerous, hope-killing
abuses on an all too frequent basis and there’s nuthin’ that most people can do
about it. In some ways, Peter is the
lucky one, because although he has endured terrible things in his life, he also
has advocates, while others do not – though they don’t need them as much
either.
In this case, Peter has friends in high places: the Regional
District Commissioner (RDC) and the Deputy (DRDC) - both appointed by the
President and those friends found Peter a different school. After numerous
confrontations with the SHT, who refused to release Peter’s belongings even
though two adults accompanied Peter, we finally left with his stuff. Meetings with the DRDC offered the promise of
a new school – government funded for Vulnerable Children (aren’t they ALL
vulnerable here?). It required footing it all over town several times, getting documents,
uniforms, belongings, enlisting help from friends and a lot of keeping my mouth
shut when what I wanted to do was eviscerate someone. As Day Two dawned, all
seemed to be well, until we showed up
ready to move Peter only to be informed that SHT had called the Head Mistress
at the new school and she in then rescinded her acceptance of Peter. The day was spent trying to keep spirits
up. The up side is that I introduced
Peter to puzzles (which he loved) while we waited on calls that never
came.
On Day three, I had yet another
meeting with the friends-in-high-places and all possibilities for forward motion came to a break-neck halt. Seems no one could locate the *!#*#
PHONE NUMBER for the Head Mistress and BECAUSE no one could find it (no phone books
here, no Google “find,” no one in the Education Office) everyone involved finally had to go to a scheduled two hour Board
Meeting. THAT turned into a SIX hour meeting (not unusual) necessitating another night of finding Peter a place to stay, paying for his meals
(he doesn’t eat Muzungu food) and urging him not to lose hope – which was
beginning to dwindle for all of us.
Day Four (that would be today): a call to
the new school was promised. Several
friends later, I found the PHONE NUMBER.
HOURS later, I pulled the Muzungo-card and walked back to the DRDC/RDC to find them in ANOTHER meeting with line of thirty Ugandans ahead of me – all
waiting for their turn with the RDC. Pleading "tima kitca" (please forgive me) I went to the front of the line.... I didn't have another day to waste.
I’m not making this up. I
pled my case to the secretary and she interrupted the meeting, at which point
the DRDC extricated herself. God BLESS
this woman – about my age, big and soft and round – a real Ugandan mama’ – who
loves Peter and loves this Muzungu who is fast becoming a pest. She grabbed me by the hand like a first grader, dragged me past the
thirty black faces and affectionately shoved me through the door and to desk of a
somewhat bewildered RDC. She interrupted
the meeting and basically said “fix this.”
And he did, but only after my begging for it to be done cawa ni/now because I am leaving the country
tomorrow. Patience only works for so long, then pushiness is required. Ugandan's won't do it - you need a Muzungu for that.
Peter’s belongings, which have been resting at my house, are now
with the DRDC, who allows Peter to sleep at her home and will take care of getting
getting him to the new school tomorrow.
I've thrown around enough money to make this happen and I have to trust that this will happen. And I do because there is no
option at this point.
This is actually the short version of what has become a exercise in
trust, patience (not my strong suit) and consciously shifting my emotions over
things out of my control. Other
interesting fall out is in the mix, but that’s another tale. One operates quietly and behind the scenes to
try to affect change in a country where change is “not done.” One acts quietly because people have been poisoned
or worse - for less. Yes. You read that right.
In the midst of this, during one of the many visits to the DRDC’s
office, a beautiful delicate little girl about 2 years old arrived with an old
woman. She tottered over to the RDC and
handed Emily (the DRDC) a tight roll of money (greasing of the palm is almost routine) which, with great respect, Emily handed back
to the little girl. She explained to
me that she had intervened to save this baby from being sacrificed by a witch
doctor who had abducted her! Yes – they still do that here.
And that was the week.
Tomorrow – and none too soon – friends and I will board the Post Bus and
haul down to Kampala to leave for ZANZIBAR on Sunday. Our phones don’t work there and computers
are not invited. I will be blissfully out-of-touch on
a white, sandy beach eating as much seafood as I can consume, going on
a Spice Tour and basically acting like a tourist for 6 days. After that there's the COS (Close of Service) conference in JINGA on the Nile! Yaaaay! That's not a tan you'll see - it's the COS glow. Well - it might be a tan ;-)
See you mid-July folks!
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