I guess I want to say that there's no news, but I'm in Uganda, so everything is newsworthy somehow, right? I had been frustrated lately, teaching, because everything that I had planned in Health Science (following the curriculum guide given to me by the head of department) was apparently old news to the students. In fact, the book that I was following to guide my lesson planning is available in the library for the students to read. And so, everything that I've been given to teach (by the head of department who reassured me over and over again that the students do not know the information) the students already know. Old news. My previous plan was to discover the parts of each body system in depth and discuss how it works within itself and in conjunction with other body systems. However, each lesson was putting the students to sleep, and when I had some students come up and re-iterate what they learned, they would add in even more knowledge that I didn't even know about. At the end of that week, during my jarring realization, I was defeated, and I whined to anyone at the college who would bother to listen to me.
Some advice was,
"Don't let them ask questions that are off topic. Come and teach what was planned." But the questions are good?
"It's okay if they've already read the module, then they know what you're talking about." But then what am I teaching?
"It may seem like they know the material already, but they don't." Really? My pre-tests indicate that yes, they already do know the parts and functions of the circulatory system.
Still feeling defeated, I talked the ear off of another science/math tutor whom the students really look up to and respect. He pointed out that the students should also know major diseases and disorders that afflict each system. This was great, because it was also apparent that the students had the most interest in that as well. With that, I re-vamped my scheme and successfully taught not only about the circulatory system this week, but also discussed high blood pressure, heart attacks, stroke, coronary heart disease and diabetes. This was great, because in the process I knew I was eliminating some misconceptions. Additionally, I'm learning so darn much about the body, I feel like I could perhaps pursue a career in nursing.
In other news, everyone wants to be my friend. I can't put my finger on why, perhaps because of my bubbly personality? Maybe because I cook some really great food? Could it be because I dress so smartly? Oh, and there's that whole mzungu part of me....
Two days ago, a letter had been stealthily slipped under my door. "Madam Mary," was printed in the deliberate and ever-so-careful handwriting of some pupil somewhere. "I see you everyday but you don't see me." "I really hope we can be pen friends." Cute, right? I set it aside with every intention of responding, and sticking a letter outside my door for the yet unknown kid.
Yesterday, exhausted, dirty, and starving (I skipped lunch), I had finally arrived home and was making popcorn and tea. There was a knock at my door. "Good evening," I say to the random boy at my door, through the curtain, as I continue to tend to the popcorn.
"Good eveningowareyou?" He said, all in one breath, as many Ugandan children say.
"Oh I'm fine," I said. In my peripheral vision, I could see him slip off his sandals. I had assumed that he, like any other Ugandan child, would respect my space and not come in unless invited. He was not like other Ugandan children. In he walked, still talking to me. He picked up my iron off of the blue Mukwano plastic garden chair, set it aside, and took a seat. I was blown away. I don't like to be blunt or demanding, especially of people I don't know, so I said nothing, but rather offered him some popcorn while I sat, as well. To be clear, I only offered him some so as to not be rude and eat in front of him, but I remind the reader, I was starving. And if you know me when I'm starving, especially with popcorn, I'm greedy. So I only offered once.
"You got my letter," he said.
"Oh yes, and I was going to write back, today even..." I bluffed. There wasn't much in the letter to respond to, so it was going to be hard to write back.
"I see you everyday. I really want to be friends with people like you."
People like me? What, old, white people? YOU'RE 13.
"I'm finding it kind of odd that you want to be my friend. You don't even know me. Usually, when someone here wants to be my friend, they're looking for money or a ticket to the US."
"No, I'm not like that. I just want to be your friend." Nothing seemed to bother this kid. I must say though, his English was pretty good.
"Ok. So..."
"So what do you do on Sundays?" he asked, interrupting me.
"Um, I wash clothes."
"OK, I take you for prayers," he said, confidently, like it was a done deal.
"I don't pray."
"Oh, that's OK too," again, still blown away by his arrogance and command of English, "are you going to town tomorrow?"
"Yes, early in the morning."
"Ok, I'll escort you," he said.
There was no question, but rather just matter-of-factness in his propositions. "Um, no, I can go by myself." What the hell am I supposed to talk about with this kid? "So, you have brothers and sisters?"
"Yes, one younger brother and a sister."
"Ah, that's nice."
"Actually, my younger brother is there, in America."
ORLY?!
"Which state is he in?" I innocently asked. Kid reaches over and grabs a handful of popcorn. Reminder--I only offered popcorn once.
"I don't know. He didn't tell me."
"How old is he?"
"Seven."
"You talk to him on the phone?" Grabs another handful of popcorn.
"Yeah, I talked to him last Wednesday."
"Ah, how does he like school?"
"It's good. He's in P4."
He's in P4 (not fourth grade?), at the age of seven, in America? This kid's story, and body language, were slowly indicating that he's a fantastic liar.
"He even told me," he began, "that they bought him a house."
"A house?" I probed. "Some American bought a seven year old a house?"
"That's what he said!"
It was more than evident that this kid is lying a blue streak. At this point he had taken my whole bowl of popcorn. "And your family? Who else is in your family?"
"Well, I have my mom, but she has the Virus," he said. And now he's trying to lay a guilt trip on me, somehow. He began to tell a sad tale about his family. Credible? Not sure. Hmmm....
"Ok, well I have to run to the trading center here quickly to get some things," I say, setting up my escape.
"First take tea," he said, motioning to my cup. What a demanding little...
"No, I'm going to go now."
"Can I escort you?"
"No."
"Can I stay here?"
"No."
"Why not? I am now your guest."
ORLY?! I couldn't take it anymore.
"I'm trying to be as polite as possible here. I don't know you, you walked into my house uninvited, you ate my food and I'm trying to--as politely as possible--ask you to leave. It's odd that a thirteen year old wants to be a friend of a random woman in the village, and other than my being a mzungu, I can't imagine a reason why you'd want to do that. So, you're welcome to stop by and greet me, but other than that..." I kind of left it there. He got the message, but first cleaned the popcorn bowl before he slipped his sandals back on to leave.
Completely disorganized, as they say here (flustered really) I huffily went over to my neighbor Behna. What I like about Behna is that she can bargain to obscenely low prices and she can be kind of a hard ass. When I found her, she was carrying a newborn baby. Funny how babies can make you soften up and forget your troubles for a bit. She was just holding on to her while the mother was at the market. After a while of loitering and just discussing about other things, I finally got around to my situation that had just happened. She was just as appalled as I had been.
"Don't entertain children in the house. He could be a thief."
Ah! Ba-na, I didn't even think of that! And so, now I'm paranoid.
I see you everyday, but you don't see me.... It doesn't sound so cute anymore....
