Trips to the bush are always a new adventure.  Yesterday’s was no exception.  As we climbed into The Daughter of Japan (gee that sounds vulgar doesn’t it?)  I double-checked to see that I had everything for the day: water, toilet paper at the head of the list, camera, extra battery, snacks, motion sickness wrist bands, Acholi dictionary, hand sanitizer, sunglasses, rain gear…  The mission of the day was to check in with schools to pick up forms left a few days ago, or a week ago and to basically see if they are benefiting from (or using) materials received from LABE.  The first school didn’t have the forms completed.

LABE  publishes a newspaper using pictures the children draw, accompanied by their stories – all part of the process to engage children and give them a reason to read.   They’ve asked kids for stories about their experiences with or thoughts about  gender balance and child abuse or protection.  Some interesting pictures have come in from schools that have responded and they are revealing. You can see that the kids want an opportunity to tell their story and have a voice.

  A case in point:  last week a school visit where children were allowed to read aloud concluded and as staff were headed to the truck, a little boy ran after them sobbing and angry.  He was upset because he hadn’t had the chance to show them that he could read – it was a point of honor for him.  So they waited and sent someone to get the book.  There on the playground,  everyone stopped and gave him the chance to read – to be heard.

In all of these villages, children are getting excited about learning.  And this is what will make these two years worth whatever it takes to be here.   But back to our travels – we tell the school folks we will return on the way back into Gulu and head next village is down a series of roads and paths so hidden and over grown I can’t for the life of me tell how Emma knows where he’s going.  At one point we have a herd of goats running in front of us, on another we wait for a herd of cattle to go around us.  They are not impressed with The Daughter of Japan so we end up having to thread our way through  them.

When we arrive at schools, we surrounded by kids and shouts of excitement at the  arrival of a vehicle and a Munu/Muzungu.  We all pile out, go into a small office and chairs are brought for everyone.  Everyone greets with handshakes (a three part process) and introductions.  It is very poor form to fail to greet anyone and the standard greeting we receive is: “You are most welcome.”  A few teachers are rounded up and then we get to the purpose of the meeting.  signing the Visitors Book is a must for documentation for audits and there is the matter of prestige.  This is repeated at every school, without fail.  It takes some time.

At some schools with several hundred students, only two teachers might be on site.  They are many reasons for teachers coming:  they may not have been paid in two months, it’s rainy season or digging season,  they are discouraged, don’t see the point…  Even though education is “free,”  it’s not free.  Parents are still expected to come up with fees for teacher’s residences (they often live on site), utilities, medical services, transport for teachers, etc.  so often, kids are sent home because their folks don’t have the $5,000 shilling for the term (less than $10 US.  It gets more expensive as they get into upper grades.

Then there are the villages where LABE teaches parent educators and where truly free classes are held.  Some are picture postcard images:  meticulously swept and anywhere from two to ten clean mud huts with thatched roofs.  One we passed had a wide road lined with plantings.  Another was tucked so deep in the bush we had no hint of its being there until we popped out of enveloping grass into a burst of color offered by a tall hedge of zinnias and Papaya trees!  Others are so poor it’s heartbreaking.

It’s Saturday, the day villages can hold their learning sessions, but it’s a rather loosely scheduled event. When we arrive we are greeted with excitement and Papyrus mats are brought out for students (two are there) and chairs for teachers and important people.  There is the usual chat, introductions, etc. and news of our visit is somehow telegraphed to the surrounding area. Gradually more people arrive.  There’s an invisible communication system that operates in the bush and over the next hour or so people continue to drift in and become part of the class.  By the time we wrapped up, there were over 60 children and adults, not counting a dozen or so village officials, assorted chickens pecking around in the midst of everything, a few goats, maybe the occasional pig grunting through.   Learners range in age from toddlers to elderly (65+).  Making it to the ripe old age of 60+  is still are and those with grey hair are shown respect.  I am often called grandmother or Mama – a term of admiration and recognition.

We brought out a couple of children’s books to test the potential interest in our idea of a Story Hour.   Even though they couldn’t read the English words, they all gathered around to share the book.  Reading aloud was even  better – they seldom experience reading as anything other that an academic or testing process.

Toward the end of the day, we go back by those schools who have promised to have their forms completed and about half are no there.  It was 5:00 after all and this made sense to me, but not to anyone else.  People work late here – in fact they work until dark in most cases.

Time is a slippery slope and it would be easy to be offended by it in that western way, to assume that being late is a passive-agressive act of dis-respect, simply not caring or gross mis-management of time.  Here –  while it could be any of those, it is most often not.  Culturally, it is just not high on the awareness scale and there are so many un-foresen obstacles that really do come into play.  So the American asks – why didn’t you just call?    That’s not so straight forward either.  Most folks are operating shilling to shilling so they can’t afford air time or there was no power to charge the phone.  several hours late or a no-show? –  the “road was spoiled,”  family emergency  (family trumps all else here and it a legitimate excuse), no-transportation, my village flooded (very real).   So when we go out to the field, one prepares for all day and any eventuality.

Today is not a field-visit day, but it started with everyone being late and I must not only adjust, but find ways of tempering my straightforwardness (not always welcome or understood here)  and still try to establish some structure where I can function.  While we are continually asked to help create a culture where business can thrive, people can get the services they need, the education they need and the tools to build the infra-structure required to move forward,  all of  those things require a different relationship to time.   It is an interesting cross-cultural challenge to tip-toe through and around and I just hope I can do that without offending and hurting feeling of people I care about.   I’m not sure I passed that test this morning, but.. there will be plenty of other opportunities

Carl Sandburg said, “Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.”  So do I go with this sentiment or  New York Times writer, Bonnie Friedman, “An unhurried sense of time is in itself a form of wealth.”  Seems it might be related to what we have the least of and want more of – or once again, achieving some balance.   Your thoughts?

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