I get to the teachers lounge and there are a group of nervous looking students grouping around the headmaster who is sitting on a stool in the grass. Julius, one of the English teachers. I ask him if the students were getting caned and ask pretty loudly if this was not illegal in
I don’t know if it was because I was saying something, or because the Headmaster didn’t really want to hit them but when he raised his stick they all ran and he didn’t chase after them but came into the room as I was in the middle of my conversation with Julius.
“Caning is a lazy way of disciplining a child and that is the reason it continues now, it seems like an easy way to punish, when it really is cruel and ineffective.” Julius tries to tell me that he’s tried other ways and they don’t work. I told him, “I don’t believe you.”
I’ve decided I don’t need to be quiet about my views on the matter. Before I was reserved because I considered myself a foreigner to their culture, but after learning that the government is trying to stop this practice, I feel no reservation in trying to change the system at this school.
I tell them about lunch detention, after school detention, extra homework, chores around the campus, missed privileges for different special activities. Julius says African children are different.
“They absolutely are not. I’ve taught in
“Caning is a foolish tradition passed down from earlier generations and it’s laziness to accept this means of discipline when we know better.”
Julius laughs as he turns to walk on the path to his classroom. The words probably seem harsher here, but I spoke in a friendly matter. I tell Julius that I’m not kidding and start on my path to class.
I’m walking to my S2 class and one of the students calls out Muzungu. I get into the classroom and go straight to her and say, “Excuse me?” She looks down and doesn’t answer. I put my bag down and write on the blackboard.
On the left side I write a list:
Adam Branson
Mr. Adam
Teacher/Master
Sir
Ssebo
One the right side I write “Muzungu” and cross it out.
I explain to them that the left side is a list of the names they can call me. I tell them my name is not Muzungu. I ask if their name is Mutugavi (“black person”)
“Where I come from it is very rude to call someone the color of their skin. When I think of myself - when I think of what makes my identity, I first think of my family, then my religion, then
“You, when you think of yourselves, do you not think of Ntenjeru? Then of the
“It is OK, if you are talking to someone about me and refer to me as a Muzungu. Maybe someone is asking you which one I am, so you point and say, ‘He is the Muzungu.’
“That is fine. The same way if you were talking about two people, one short and the other tall. You can say, ‘The shorter person.’ Or you can say, ‘The tall one.’
“But when the man walks up to you, do you say, “Hey, Shorty!” Of course not! That is rude! It is the same to refer to someone as Muzungu.
“I know you grow up learning to shout, like the little kids everyday on my walk, ‘Bye! Muzungu! Bye!’ I don’t get upset at those little children, but you are older and you should know better than to refer to your teacher in such a disrespectful manner.”
I ask them if they understand the difference between describing someone as a Muzungu and calling them a Muzungu. The class is sharp and I continue right on with my lesson plan.
Both of my classes are great today. I feel like the kids are understanding me more and I am able to clear up some confusion in our math lesson about the concepts we’re covering.
On my walk home I think about how great today is and how beautiful
1 comment:
I once heard a debate on the "M" word. Its like since nobody wants to be called muzungu, it should perhaps be considered derogatory.
But then what would we call you? Those poor chaps trying to explore Africa often got lost and ended up treking in circles. Often returning to a village to ask "What was the direction again?" in a strange language. Hence the birth of the word that now means Caucasian.
Post a Comment