We started the day by visiting the local primary school. It's a public school, fully supported by government. The building is fairly new and in decent shape. It has four classrooms, plus one room that serves as a classroom/office/teacher prep room. It's set on a large piece of land, so the kids have room to play during their break periods. The school is for children in grades R (kindergarten) through 9; high school is a distance away. There is a uniform, blue sweaters over white shirts and either blue skirts or slacks, and most of the kids had one on (I'm assuming those that didn't couldn't afford them).
Class sizes were about 30-35. Three grades are combined into one room. Grade R was by itself, then grades 1 to 3, 4 to 6 and 7 to 9 were put together. There's a single teacher for each grade combination, making it almost like an old one-room schoolhouse.
I was impressed with the desks and equipment in the classrooms, and the presence of books and workbooks. I haven't seen this at the other 
schools I've been to. However, even though it sounds ideal it has its issues:
1. Truancy is very high. A lot of kids drop out after grade 8 or 9, most because they either don't see the point in finishing or because they have family responsibilities that keep them home. I also saw children just hanging around every day, with no excuse for not being in school.
2. Teacher attendance is hit or miss. There are apparently days when the only people in school are the children. Spiwo and others think this is because the teachers are not educated well enough to handle the higher grades and more complex subjects. (Under the apartheid regime, blacks were taught in separate schools that lacked basic materials and used lesser-trained teachers. Blacks were only educated to grade 8, which was enough to give them skills to be a labourer in the mines or factories. Teachers obviously went on to higher education, but again it was not to the level of the white students. Now that the curricula are standardized and the blacks are being held to the white standards, the teachers are finding it difficult to handle the higher grades because they never went through them.) They are also paid quite poorly, so many stay home because they can.
As you can imagine, these problems are creating real barriers to the kids' abilities to move up and out of their rural existence. There's also a lack of technology and lessons on its applications. The kids have never seen computers, let alone use one. And the Internet is just something they've maybe read about (I helped a teenage student at the Centre yesterday who had never heard of the Internet. He would definitely be lost in an American school). And again, no one seems to be standing up for them and forcing teachers or the government to make it right.
The school was started by Thozama Gozo about 10 years ago. She had a daughter who was not performing in school and Mrs. Gozo knew something had to be done. She started the school in a rented space, but due to a lack of funds it soon landed in her house. She had about 20 children then, sleeping in four bedrooms along with her biological children. Eventually she was able to move it to a private building. About 3 years ago the government found out what she was doing and came through with funds to build a proper school on a large campus. The students now number 240 and the school is maxed out. The age range is from 6 to 21 - even though she isn't supposed to keep them after 19, she said since there's no place for them to go she ends up keeping them longer.
The school's objectives are to teach the children normal subjects as far as they can go and to train them on a marketable skill. Most of the kids learn needlework (sewing), art, or beadwork. She is starting a woodworking program right now, with a focus on cabinetry. She tries to customize programs, though. She has a couple students who are sports prodigies, so these kids spend their time improving their skills with the goal of joining a semi-pro team and earning a living that way.
Because there aren't homes for learning disabled adults, Mrs. Goza is now planning for a group home nearby the school campus. When the children reach 21, they can move to the group home and get a job. She still has a lot of work to do, but if the school is any indication I think she'll have the home running in no time.
From Tsolo we went to Xolani's village, Elucwecwe, outside the city of Ngcobo (I can't print a pronunciation guide for these, because the "c"s are click sounds. El-you-tswe-tswe and Ntso-boh would be close). Elucwecwe is a picturesque village, situated in green rolling hills. As
with all things rural, though, the beauty comes with a price. This village is not electrified, and most homes do not have running water. There are taps, but they only work part of the time and people are forced to walk to the river for water. As in Malungeni, the homes are mostly rondevals with some square side buildings thrown in. Heat and cooking is done over fires - one of Xolani's family's rondevals has a fire circle in the middle of the room where they make a wood fire. Seeing this and smelling the ever-present smoke and soot and you quickly realize why asthma is the one of the biggest health problems in the rural areas.We actually went to two homesteads in Elucwecwe, because Xolani had a split childhood. It's a very interesting story:
Xolani's mother was not married to his father. His father was the village chief and already had a wife and family when he met Xolani's mother. She was the daughter of a white, Jewish shopkeeper in the area, who married a local black woman. This makes Xolani's mother both
coloured and part-Jewish, two things Xolani didn't know about until he was in his teens. (Xolani's sisters actually have the facial features of a European lineage and a lighter skin colour. They probably would have been classified as Coloured in the apartheid era.) His father, the chief, was very wealthy with lots of animals and a large homestead (the two rondevals pictured left are just part of his buildings. Look at their size in relation to the car, and then look at the mother's, above). Food was never an issue. The chief had 6 children with his wife, the last of whom was born in 1964. He then had 5 children with Xolani's mother; Xolani is the youngest, born in 1976. All of the children lived with their father, while Xolani's mother lived on the other side of the hill (it's not very far as the crow flies, but it's a long distance relationship-wise). Her homestead is the one pictured above.It was only when the chief died in 1987 that Xolani and his siblings drifted back to their mother. For a long time growing up Xolani and his siblings felt that their mother had abandoned them since she played no real role in their young lives. It was only when they moved to her small
homestead that they discovered the sacrifice she made in trying to give them a better life. He told me that "for a long time we thought our mother did not love us, then as we grew older we understood she did what was best for us."Xolani's three sisters still live in Elucwecwe; his brother passed away in 2006. One of his sisters is a traditional healer (she's in the middle in this picture), and the others are working as wives and mothers. Xolani recently found out he has a half-brother from his mother's first marriage, although he doesn't talk a lot about him.
Xolani is one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. He is always smiling, and is usually at the centre of a conversation about soccer or other sports. Even though he only completed the eighth grade, he is an astute businessman with a small taxi business in Gugulethu. He had a difficult time with school, not because he isn't smart but because the demands of the household got in the way. For most of his school years he could only attend classes every other day. This is for two reasons:
1. He and his brother had to take turns caring for the animals
2. He and his brother had to take turns wearing the school uniform and shoes
I can only imagine how far he could have gone with a high school diploma and college education. Maybe some day he'll be able to do that.
When we got back to the house, we joined a meeting Spiwo was having with some of Malungeni's local leaders, including the village chief and the school principal. The subject of the meeting was a proposal the chief is making to an international volunteer program to bring people to Malungeni. They would help with several income-generating projects in the village, as well as with the school and another pre-school program that's run from the community centre. It was an interesting discussion, with Spiwo driving home the point that the community must take charge and drive progress. He is very worried that the people will not work with the volunteers and the programs will just fall flat. The meeting finished with everyone agreeing the proposal needed to move forward and that the chief would drive things. We ended up finishing the proposal on Friday and bringing it back to Cape Town for faxing.
The chief's story is also dramatic. He is a young man, maybe 30 years old. He inherited the post upon the death of his father a few months ago. His father was apparently well respected and had his hands on the pulse of the community. He had a vision for moving Malungeni forward and was usually able to rally the people to support that vision. His son, the new chief, is quiet, almost withdrawn, as if he doesn't really want the post. Spiwo thinks that he may not get the support his father had because then he will fail and the chiefdom will be available for someone else to assume. Considering the chief gets the spoils from contributions to the community, it's a job worth having and several people would vie for it. The next few months will be key, especially this proposal which will bring a couple hundred Americans and lots of skills to the community. I hope he can make it work.
After a nice dinner it was time for reading and sleeping. I didn't work out all week, and got 8 hours of solid sleep every night. I haven't done that in many, many years and it felt great.
Next up: Don't Get Sick in Malungeni - A Visit to the Local Hospital (don't panic Mom, it was just a tour)
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