typical morning

Many of you have asked me to describe my typical day. There really is no “typical” day here, but yesterday was pretty emblematic of my experiences here, so I’ll just describe that.

I woke up at 6:30, crawled out from underneath my mosquito net and took a bucket shower. I then sat around eating porridge (I eat this every day) and chatted with some of the other volunteers. I gathered some math flash cards and a story book and headed out for my 15 minute walk to the school. The first half of my walk is through the camp and I pass so many families who are outside finishing a morning meal, chatting, washing clothes or dishes or comforting crying children. Some say “hi” as I pass and others just go about their business. Most people seem accustomed to our presence, but I still get the occasional “Hi white woman!” To this, I sometimes reply “hi black child.” They usually find that hilarious and so do I for the utter un-PCness of it all. I remember in Kenya everywhere I went children would point at me, jump and scream “Mzungu” which basically means the same thing – white person. In Ghana it’s “Obruni”, but in English-speaking Liberia camp, it’s just “white woman” which, although it has less exotic appeal, cuts right to the point. My personal favorite is when I get “hey Jew!” thrown at me, which makes me think “how did they know?” until someone told me that’s short for “Jewell” and kind of something between a come-on and a term of endearment.

So, the second part of my walk is at the edge of camp and it’s about the most nature I get. The views looking out into the Ghanaian countryside are spectacular - lush green hills and red clay earth dotted by trees that can look like something out of a fairy tale. This second part of my walk gives me a false sense of peace before I enter the utter chaos of school.

When I get to school the children and my Liberian co-teacher are already in the class. They rise out of their seats at my entrance and say in unison “Good morning sis Kim, how are you dis morning” My line is: “I’m fine class, how are you” - to which they respond (again in unison sing-songy staccato) “We are also fine. Thank you.” They do this routine for literally everyone who walks in the class and I find it hilarious and totally adorable. One day I tried responding to their inquiries as to my welfare with “Not so good today class” To which the replied “We are also fine. Thank you.”

We teach for 2 hours have a 30 minute recess and then teach another 2 hours. In this time I go through a kind of emotional roller coaster of general frustration interspersed with moments of extreme frustration and utter anger. Actually, that’s an exaggeration. I sincerely love these kids, but it’s nearly impossible to have enough order in the class so that each kid learns something every day. They just do not sit still or pay attention and there is a constant din of noise and movement despite any of our threats, pleading or even emotional manipulation. At one point after several attempts at calling kids out to be quiet and taking away recess from the noisy ones, I literally threw the chalk down and yelled, “Kids I can’t teach like this” and walked out of the room. When I came back in they were all stunned into silence and actually paid attention to the lesson for a whole 15 minutes. This strategy is clearly unsustainable.

But when a concept does click for one of my kids, they get this immediate and pure joy and enthusiasm that you almost never find in adult life, and it inspires me enough to endure all the rest of the frustration. Also, despite their inability to focus, they do sincerely appreciate the smallest things like a getting books and posters for the classroom and just the slightest bit of personal attention. I wish you could see their little faces light up when I bring in books. They actually cheer and clap and say “Thank you! Thank you! Sis Kim!!!” Everyday, kids walk me all the way home and insist on carrying my books – even the ones that I yell at the most. Many of them have written me the sweetest little letters. I wish I didn’t find their misspelling and incorrect grammar so cute (not very teacherly), but darnit – it’s so endearing. Here’s an example from one of my brighter students

”Dear sis Kim's,

I want you to be my Friend Please give me some story books Please make friend with me. Sis Kim please reply to me too. Make friend with my I want you to be my playmother. I like your business.

THank you
from
Phebee
To Sis Kim's"

Here’s one of the funnier ones I received in the middle of teaching:

"Sis Kim,

Please love me. I Sis Kim I play for you. Please let me go pepe."

At first it was also difficult to understand the kids – especially if they are crying or upset. Liberian English has taken a bit of getting used to, but I love hearing it now. Here are some things I hear all the time:
“Sis Kim, He spyin-o” = he’s looking at my test paper
“Sis Kim, he cossing me” = he’s swearing
“He can lie” = that’s not true
"la true" = that's true
“I will flog you” = one child is threatening another
“Sis Kim, plee lemme go yurnay” = Can I go to the bathroom

OK. So after teaching, I walk home with a trail of kids and my co-teacher through the burning sun back to my guest house for lunch, totally exhausted. Afternoons vary. Meetings, playing with kids outside my house, teaching adult literacy, meeting with microloan recipients... This is getting long, so more on that later.

Much love and miss you all!!

Kim