Nateete

Yesterday morning my heart broke. We were at the Nateete orphan school for the morning and Malcolm, Dylan, Emily and Rhonda put on a concert for the school. They used Rhonda's How Canada Came to Be cd and had all the students paddling canoes, singing about bears and explorers. It was great. It was probably one of the only cultural performances that school has had. After we split up into two's and taught classes for an hour or so. The kids were thrilled to have us there and we read books to them and sang songs with them.

The school is in a slum area called Nateete. I can't even explain the school, but I will try. There are 9 class rooms, but you reach them all from outside There is no cement, no sidewalk, no grass, no anything. Just old shacks and red dirt. The children sit on very old fashioned bench desks and have no textbooks, only a few pencils to share and tatty notebooks that are their prized possession. They get served a plastic mug of runny porridge at 10:00 am and they are very careful not to spill a drop. That might be the only meal of the day.

After class all the children were clamouring around us and we were taking lots of pictures, but as I was walking away one gorgeous boy came up to me and shook my hand and introduced himself as Shafik. He told me how happy he was that I was here, and hugged me. I expressed how happy I was to be there, how gorgeous he was and said I love you. Then we sat down and I had the opportunity to ask him a few questions about his life. His father is very sick (which probably means he has AIDS) and does not speak anymore - meaning the end is near. He said his brother is too sick to go to school, but that his mother is ok. If one parent dies of AIDS, there is a very high percentage of the other parent dying of the same disease.

So here is this gorgeous boy who is 12 years old, but looks like the size my son Malcolm was when he was 8 or 9 years old. His parents and brother have AIDS and he has a five year old sister. He lives in the worst slum I have ever seen, has one meal of runny porridge a day, and he has the biggest smile and the brightest eyes. He does not feel sorry for himself, he is not depressed. And he said to me "You are so beautiful, teacher. I love you."

Insert the sound of my heart breaking...

And that is just one kid out of 200 at that school - all with different life stories. The pastor of the church (also the principal of the school) is probably 38 years old and is married with five children. But his brother and sister have died, so he took their children in. He now has 14 children and his mother was helping him until she passed away two months ago. He said they live in a small house, but they make do. Let me explain that living in a small house here is like living in a bedroom in Canada. I'm not joking. And for some people in the Dilworth area, it might be the size of your bathroom. It's about 6 feet by 8 feet, and that is the WHOLE HOUSE.

The teachers at Nateete make $3.00 a day (yes I said three dollars a day), and the one we talked to walks 40 minutes each way to the school. They do not make the $3.00 if the church does not receive enough donations. The teachers are impeccably dressed, better than most I've seen at home. And they are living in the worst slum and make thirty three cents an hour.

It's mind boggling being here and I have not found a way to process everything we are seeing and the stories we are being told. It's off my grid. I can imagine that when I get home I will be processing this trip for a long time.
Joy Hlady