as easy as A, B, C,

Teaching in Uganda has been challenging and rewarding all at the same time. The boys at the boys home are very eager to learn, although sometimes they are very bad at focusing and listening! But I get many notes from them each week that I am out at the land thanking me for teaching them. They are so sweet.  Here are some things I have learnt over the last month as I have experienced my first cross-cultural teaching.

 

 

The first thing I realised was that the school systems here seem to operate very much on rote memory. I had been told this, but discovered it for myself when I sat on a few classes at the boys school. They have little blue exercise books that are filled with line paper. They have pencils and pens. The teacher has chalk and a chalkboard. And that is about it. The teacher writes on the board and the students copy. The boys have become very good at coping information. Most of them have amazing printing! But often this type of copying comes without really understanding what is being taught. There is really nothing overly creative in class.

I comes as no surprise then that they really struggle in this area. I am still trying to figure out how to get them to exercise their creativeness in out Saturday class because they are most comfortable simply copying answers. My first lesson bombed (at least I felt like it did) largely because I was trying to get them to be more creative than they were used to (or able to do at this point...).  So I have been trying to have a mix of copying and getting them to put their own creative twist on it. My ideal would be to get them to a higher level of learning, but I think that is a lofty goal considering the short amount of time I am here.There is really a need for the boys to be able to grow their creativeness, problem solving, and critical thinking skills.

About six of the boys are in primary 1 and 2. Non of them can read very well but they have been progressing quite well (thank you Meme for the Bob books! One of the boys in P.2 is named Bob which everyone things is hilarious).  I have noticed that they do not learn their alphabet phonetically. Few of them know their letter sounds (we have been working on this) and do not have the ability to sound out new words. They memorise words as a whole. For example one of the boys when he sees a word that ends in "g" often thinks it is dog even though it could be something like "big." Dog is the word he has memorised so that is what he associated "g" to.  I have been trying to come up with easy reading games so that they have to actually sound out the word, not just memorise it.

We are hoping to be able to start homeschooling the boys that are in the lowest grades soon because they are so far behind and get quite discouraged. With more support they could progress so much faster! So this is in the works. API is looking to hire an Ugandan teacher and I would work as a support teacher with the boys. I have been told part of my job is to bring more creative teaching ideas into the class. If all works out we would start this in the middle of April.  This will be an adjustment to my schedule as I would be out at the land five days a week instead of three. It would also mean that I am not at street program as much. I have started helping out on Sunday with a Sundayschool program (and lunch) for the street kids.
 
Probably the biggest things I have realized is that you have to be super flexable in Africa. Things seldom start when you think they will, or go how you planned!! But somehow it all works out in the end. The trick is to go with it and enjoy it despite the feeling of caos that is sometimes so strong!

Some Seuss

"Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

Dr. Seuss, The Lorax

 

A good quote I'd say, and applicable. But what exactly does it mean to care a whole awful lot? And what does it look like in practical terms when we do? Specifically what does it look like for me?

 

I don't have the answers really, so I am going to leave this as a short post. But these are the questions  being mulled over in my mind. Maybe you can ponder them too.

 

 

In case you can't make it out, the text on the street boy in blue's shirt says "everyone should care."  It seemed ironic that a grubby street kid would wear this...

The Many Faces of the Banana

Metoka is the Lugandan word for banana, one of the cultures staple foods. They eat them ripe much like we do in the west, but after that they get way more creative! Little vendurs at the side of the road sell them roasted and at the boys home we eat them cooked.

 

On the land that surrounds the boys homes are planted banana orchards. They boys each have the responsibility of keeping a few of the trees healthy. It seems in the village everyone at least has one metoka tree. Many of the brick homes are almost hidden under the leaves of the banana, jackfruit, and papaya trees. On the walk to church one of they boys was trying to teach me the difference between the types of banana trees. I am afraid they all look the same to me! But apparently the type of banana you eat ripe it a very different type than the one that you cook.

 



 

 

Yes, cooked metoka is a very common meal for me here in Uganda. It is not what you expect really, tasting more like a squash then a banana. This is how the process goes.  

 

 

 

You pick the bunch of bananas while they are still very green. You can not eat them raw as they are very hard and somehow bitter. Using a knife you peel them. Auntie Nesan , the cook at the boys home, and is very good at this.  She was kind enough to give me some lesson! I was definitely not as fast. And it proved to be sticky business.





The Ugandans are most resourceful! After being peeled the metoka is wrapped in banana leaves and steamed in water for something like two hours.  Even the stocks of the bananas has been used to create space at the bottom of the pot so that the banana leaves do not sit right on the bottom. Most the cooking in Uganda is done on charcoal fire stoves. This is how Auntie Nesan cooks as well.

 

This is the finished product, our Sunday lunch. Sunday lunch is special because we eat meat with the rest of the meal. The metoka is the yellow in the middle of the plate. It is served on rice with a nut sauce and some greens along with the meat. It is tastes great and I think I will miss it when I come home! 



...and so they fly.

 

This butterfly was on the walk in front of my house. It's wings were torn some. I was able to snap a few pictures before it had enough of the camer lense and flew away. Seeing it sitting here, injured but beautiful, reminded me of the street boys. The funny thing about a butterfly is no matter how torn it's wings may be, it aways tries to fly away when it feels uneasy.

 

I think we all have the tendency to fly when things get hard. I know I do, and I have.  Street boys are no different. If anything they are worse. Since I have been here five boys have run away from the two API homes. This is not because the homes are bad in any way. Why they run is complected and often leaves us shaking our heads and saying "What is it that these boys need?" They are used to their freedom, and sometimes being in structure and in relationship is hard. Their default when things are hard is to run - literally run.

 

All of the boys but one have come back home. Someone from API will find them again on the streets and talk to them. If they want to come home they are welcomed back. One of the latest boys who had ran wrote me a letter this last week when I was at the homes. Part of it went like this.

 

"Pleas Aunt Rachel for give me becouse I was going back to stret. Pleas Aunt Rachel for give me."

 

It kind of makes you smile and feel a little like crying at the same time. I wrote him a letter in reply and when I gave it to him pulled him aside for a few minutes. He had been acting distant around me, probably partly because he felt bad about running away. I told him I was not upset at him for leaving but that I had been sad when I heard that he ran. "The streets are not a good place, and not a good place for you. I was sad and worried that you might stay there." I explained "but how you are home again I am just happy."

 

Sometimes I naively want to think that life works like a happily-ever-after for these boys. That when they are finally in a good home environment and with people who love them everything will settle into  a perfect rhyme of life for them. This is not the case. There is so much good. And there is much happiness. But there is also a lot of pain and hurt and struggle.

 

But really, is life ever about arriving at the happily-ever-after? I think not. But is is about moving forward little by little -even if this means running away but then choosing to come back home. I see these types of movements every time I am out a the boys home. There are improvements in their English (I will write more about this soon) but more importantly to me there are improvements in their hearts.