No Shirt, No Shoes, No School

Dreams about the Queen of England. She lived in the house across the street from our back yard. There was a dinner party and she was quite senile. I think there were some kind of cookies involved.

I wake up with a few minutes before I have to leave. One of the girls is outside the dorm. She had been sent home for wearing shoes with holes in them. I was upset and got ready quickly to go talk to the school and to tell them if this girl can’t be taught today for imperfect shoes, than I don’t think they should be able to teach until their classrooms are more than four brick walls and an old chalkboard.

The story was lost in translation a bit and I find out by the girl that she wore different shoes than was part of the uniform and the secretary told her to go home and repair her old shoes and come back tomorrow. She could have worn her old shoes. I have to leave. Jeff says he and Kelley will talk her to get them fixed in Ntenjeru.

I see Festus, Lydia and Nulu in town and tell them what happened. Festus says he understands that the girl should have told them (her guardians) about her shoes and she knew better, but still understood my point that she should have still be n aloud to attend school. He says the problem is her sponsor hasn’t sent enough money for shoe repair and if we ask for more they will think it’s going into Festus’ pocket. So Volset has to pay for things like that. (Thank goodness she has the money to go to school.)

That is why Kelley and I are doing our project of sponsor thank you letters. So the sponsors will see that their donations are really making a difference in an actual person’s life.

School is alright. More kids have done their homework, but I have to get onto them about talking while I am. “Just because you’re whispering to each other in Luganda doesn’t mean I can’t hear you, and doesn’t mean it’s not rude to do so while I’m talking.”

I need to check myself and use more positive reinforcement – but they did need to be told. At least I’m using something like stickers. The kids laugh with each sticker. I realize that the students might not know some of the animals on the stickers. A killer whale is generalized ad a fish. I explain to them how it’s a mammal just like us.

I read a story to the class, “The Pot of Gold – an Irish Folk Tale.” I have them break into groups and read together and then answer ten questions. It’s going well. I take some photos of the classes. Looking at the photo on the back of my camera, I realize how large the class really is, and how well behaved they are considering.

In between classes I lay on the bench outside and look up at some trees. The Luganda teachers asks me why I’m sleeping in the daytime and if I’m a night dancer. Ha.

Joe sings a gospel song he has put together.

I walk home slowly. I am dizzy. My stomach is OK but this dizziness is worrying me a bit.

Walking home, I follow small footprints made in the orange dirt road and remember the same color road of our home in Umatilla. I remember my brother and I putting our bikes upside down on the road and working the pedals with our hands until the wheels were spinning fast. Then we would feed sand rocks into the spokes, shaping the rocks into different shapes, or making them disappear all together.

I whistle on the way home and stop when I hear a man clapping and singing some way into the trees from the road. It sounds like Africa.

I come home and read a book of Erin’s that we’ve all been sharing: Where There is No Doctor – A Village Health Care Hand Book.

I fall asleep and wake up to all the African noise. Africa is not quiet. Roosters, screaming children, strange birds. I’m telling you those roosters are so so loud. They don’t casually cock-a-doodle-doo they scream on the top of their lungs every single time like it’s the last thing they will ever do.

I read about how to help a woman give birth.

Jeff and Kelley are going to Kampala for a few days.

Festus puts a light bulb in my room! It’s just slightly brighter than the lantern, but it’s lovely.