Practically from the moment they can walk, village kids
begin helping their family out,
fetching water, tending goats and cattle, and taking care of
younger siblings. Their responsibilities are a huge part of their lives – but
of course, there’s always time to play. Whether watching their family’s herd,
looking after their little sister, or hanging with friends during break time
at school, there are games to be invented. While recreation for children in the
more urbanized parts of Uganda
bears a resemblance to American children’s toys and games, the “make it work”
spirit of Uganda
is very much alive in its rural children. Wherever they are, my pupils are
prepared to augment their imaginations with cars made of sticks, cardboard, and
bottle caps and to make sports possible with jumpropes made out of twisted banana
fiber and soccer balls made out of plastic bags. These kids are resourceful!
One of the soccer balls (footballs), made out of plastic bags and secured with twisted and knotted banana leaf fiber.
During break time at my school there is no official
supervision by adults. Instead the pupils self-organize games and competitions.
The activities are somewhat monitored by the prefects but for the most part, their
lifestyle has made these kids independent and responsible enough to work out
any issues that might come up. The activities are fairly segregated, with boys
playing football (the older boys get the grass while the younger boys play on
the dirt around a big tree – certainly adding to the strategy of the game!) and
girls jumping rope or playing a game with bricks and plastic bag-balls that I
still don’t entirely get.
Of course, there's always time to read in the library too!
There are also some scheduled “games and sports” events at
school, when the time, resources, and personnel are available. This last term was
staked out for athletics – basically track and field. My husband Kris and I showed up at
the primary school one day and the library had become a storage room for jerry
cans, mysterious lengths of sticks, odd foam pieces, and, shockingly, a
javelin, a discus, and a shotput! Pretty much the last things I expected to see
in rural Uganda .
The deputy headteacher explained that these were the supplies for the
sub-county athletics competition that was going to be held at the college.
Kris, the javelin master. The javelin was actually pretty sharp...
The first time I've ever personally laid eyes on a discus, and it was in Uganda. Take that, stereotypes!
The field day consisted of the top athletic pupils from schools
around the sub-county competing for the purpose of forming a county team from
the best performers. The economic difference amongst the schools, even within
such a small area, was readily apparent from the moment Kris and I walked down
to the college’s pitch. While my pupils wore their school uniforms when not
competing and stripped down to tank tops, biker shorts, and even boxers to race
– normally not at all acceptable in Uganda – pupils from other schools had
matching sports uniforms, some even with personalized names and numbers on the
back.
Two of my pupils, Peace and Sandrah.
Some uniformed pupils from other schools watching their classmates compete.
Despite the outward differences, every pupil was extremely excited and
wound up to compete. During the longer races, which were staked out with
sharpened wooden sticks around the pitch to approximate a track, the pupils not
competing ran wildly back and forth, yelling and screaming and cheering their
classmates on. Of course, aside from having a day off of school and being
allowed for once to burn off all of their youthful energy, a lot of this
probably had to do with the fact that every teacher was feeding their pupils a
steady stream of glucose from large cans. When Gatorade’s not available,
piling glucose into eager hands is the next best thing to keep your team's energy up!
Going all out - I can't remember the last time I saw someone give absolutely 100% of what they have.
Glucose for everybody!
When it got to the hurdle portion of the day, the purpose of
the mysterious foam pieces, jerry cans, and sticks that Kris and I had seen in
the library became clear. The foam pieces assembled to become kid-sized hurdles
and, since there weren't enough, hurdles were also made by sliding a stick
between the handles of two jerry cans. The athleticism of the kids was
unbelievable, especially since most of them didn't have the chance to train for
any of these events! Living a life outside as a child certainly has its
benefits.
Towards the end of the day, we moved to a different pitch, albeit still one without shade from the relentless sun. Many of my pupils from the school who weren’t participating had shown up once school had let out for the day. In the oppressive heat, they were practically salivating over the icees one entrepreneurial woman was selling out of a cooler under the shade of an umbrella. Two of my bolder girls, Gift and Lucky, came up to Kris and me to ask for money to buy icees. While Kris and I debated, all of my 40 pupils present slowly crept up around us, waiting for our decision. Even though we have been actively fighting against the image of Americans who come in and throw money everywhere, I was indecisive because it felt like such a universal moment to me, being a teacher at a sporting event, supporting and cheering on my pupils. Kris and I decided that since we felt like a part of the community now, and it was something we would do in the U.S. without thinking, that we would go ahead. Thrusting a 5,000 shilling note into a prefect’s hand, I instructed him to bring me back the change. The herd of kids sprinted away, swarming the poor saleswoman, and trickled back one by one to sit down next to us again, slurping away on their frozen treats. The prefect, Dan, carefully monitored the purchases to ensure that each child received only one icee. Once everyone had gotten their share, he brought the change back to me. I stared at the crumpled bills still remaining while my pupils chattered happily around me. The price to buy 40 children icees? About 75 cents.
Lined up on the raised edge of the pitch, our feet dangling, Kris, the kids, and I watched the next event. The javelin, shot put, and discus throw were clearly alien
to most of the pupils. Patiently waiting in line for their turn, their names
written on a piece of paper attached to a twig that would mark their farthest
shot, they listened to their teachers explain how to use these colonial-area
throwbacks. Laughter abounded as each kid tried as hard as they could to chuck
each of them as far as possible.
The final events of the day were all about jumping. First up
was a long jump in which the participants had to carefully follow a prescribed
routine of steps and hops while approaching the sand pit.
Still maintaining proper feminine decorum in a school uniform dress.
Then, the teachers set up a high jump and explained to the pupils how to properly jump and land. Seeing how the landing area was just a small pile of old hay, the kids were understandably reluctant to begin at first. To Kris and I, the setup looked less like something to be encouraged and more like something an American parent would freak out about finding their kids playing with in the backyard. However, Uganda is certainly not the land of helicopter parents!
After a few repetitions of the teachers running up to the rope and demonstrating how to leap over it (without actually doing it themselves), one brave pupil stepped up. Once she successfully did not die, the rest of the children lined up eagerly and once again proved that they were up to any task – and that American parents are, on the majority, vastly overprotective.
That's my pupil, kicking butt in her pink dress!
It was a really fun, very different day and an experience both Kris and I were so glad to have shared with my pupils. Unfortunately, the experience also ended up burning the absentminded two of us to a crisp. (Sorry Moms!) In the staff room the next day, my teachers were shocked by my striped appearance, and even more appalled when I told them that my burns were from the sun. “The sun did this to you?!? You are so fragile!”
It's already starting to tan here, but I was quite stripey for a few days!
When I actually think about the fact that the life-giving rays of the sun can cause me severe physical harm, it really is ridiculous. Right up there with invading aliens who are killed by water. Once my counterpart got over her shock, however, for the rest of the day she delighted in showing everyone how my red, burnt skin would turn white when she pressed down on it. Good times.
Despite the resulting discoloration, this relaxed, fun, unique day made something in me click. Uganda is finally starting to feel like a home. Whether it’s rooting on my pupils, laughing with my teachers, being welcomed back by my neighbors after a long time away, or feeling the warm grass on my bare feet as I run a jerry can outside for the milkman to fill, I am starting to find a bit of that elusive sense of comfort.
"Home isn't a fixed place; it's an earned idea, a belonging, a growing sense of knowing where you are in relation to everyone else, and it's the knowledge of the truth that everything exists in relationship."
- South African immigrant to the U.S.
