Help

Trying to help, teach and love others can become an intricate and complicated process which can ellicit feelings of helplessness, hopelessness and loss.
However, I believe that beneath the complex, tangled, problematic thicket of brambles, weeds and thorns there lies a simplicity at the root - a simplicity that lost its way in the many paths it crossed, the conditions it was to grow in and the loopholes it attempted to shoot through to reach above a canopy of darkness, only further insconsing itself in the mass it was hopeful to surpass.
There is a simplicity that we must adopt in our minds and hearts, with the haze of complex extranneous knowledge serving only as helpful signposts on the road to recovery but never acting as the guide itself.
To help one another we must have faith in the the simplisitc message of the lining that connects us all; the unadorned, all encompassing message of love.
I believe that to maintain faith, we must adopt a childlike sense of open-hearted purity so as not to be quickly discouraged and crushed under the weight of heavy overgrowth.
And with all this in mind, I will proceed to talk about some of the situations where I have witnessed or felt this same purity and other times where it has become muddled in the haze.
Sacking is a process here in the schools that sees the child who is unable to pay his term fees kicked out until he can afford to come back. There is a school wide sack and then each school seems to arbitrarily instate its law when they deem it necessary.
The first sacking that took place at our school sent the grounds into utter chaos - teacher's left classrooms, half the kids left the school and the headmaster told us to go home and rest. Since then it happens on an individual basis. I have yet to receive a clear answer on how this is carried out but it seems Tuesday is a popular day to ask for fees as Monday is the day when the parents go to sell their goods they have prepared throughout the week at market. The fee is about $8 Cdn per term for primary and $9 for jr high. If the teacher's feel that they will not receive their due pay at the end of the month for lack of school fees collected, they lose motivation and their apathy carries down the ladder "blowing down the match stick structure of the school before lunch," as Nathan so eloquently put it.
I started my remedial classes with five students: Comfort, Masawudu, Abullai, Mousa and Sule. Because of the erratic process of sacking, I have lost almost all of them to the school fees which they are unable to pay. Mousa has not been back since the first sacking, though he came to remedial class once and, not knowing that he had been sacked, I asked him to go back to school until I came for him. I haven't seen him since.
Abullai was sacked at one time and now seems to show up when he wants to. It is difficult to continue lessons with a child that arrives so infrequently as the progress is continually stunted.
I give little homework, but what I do give I ask to be completed by next day if they are to return to remedial. Sule is a sharp boy but fails to complete his homework out of laziness and day to day as I check his work, I must ask him to stay behind.
Masawudu and Comfort, the two farthest behind everyone else, two that I doubt should be in grade three, I have concentrated my efforts on. Unfortunately, Masawudu was just sacked and after making slow, but steady progress with him I feel at a loss. Although, I feel he will be back soon as he hasn't completely disappeared from the scene like some of the others and I will approach him when I next see him.
Comfort is receiving the most from my lessons, and quite honestly, is the most in need. She is a bright and beautiful seven year old girl with a motor mouth, a stubborn personality and a large capacity for compassion and gratitude.
As we make our way to our daily lessons under the mango tree she meanderingly spouts of phrases, words and counting methods I have taught her. She loves learning, even if her brain tends to wander to things I don't pretend to understand on some days. As I sit here typing about her I'm filled with a sense of joy at how far she has come and how our relationship has developed over the weeks we have spent together. Two days ago I gave her an exam, testing all that we have learned so far and she did incredibly well. We were approached by a little girl selling Milo (chocolate powder) tablets during her test and Comfort bought two rows of them, one which she gave to me and one which she kept for herself.
She has impacted my life greatly and it is my greatest hope that someone will continue to foster her growth. I will make sure to pass this message on to future volunteers.
I was going to talk about the bone setter I mentioned in my last blog, tying him in with the title of this blog, but as I'm seeing him next Friday and my time is running out, I will discourse on him in my next blog and leave you with a few journal entries of late.

(this was written after an incredibly chaotic and frustrating PE class with the Primary 1's - the girl mentioned is about 7 years old, incredibly polite and attentive)

Gleamingly bright eyes centered in a radiant black facial frame, undercut with a wide half moon smile that gleams in the same way as its celestial counterpart.
In the chaotic haze of irritability, absolute frustration and boiling anger I turn to this little light of P1 who strangely dons a scowl on that same pretty face and with a shake of her head, she firmly says to me, "Fucking boys."
I laugh in relief of total agreement sending a couple of the others into fits of utterance of the dirty word, while the others continue to beat each other and yell above my exhausted and futile commands.

The girls will hike their black uniform skirts up to their hips, squat and urinate in the sand at the doorstep of the school and then politely tuck the front end of it between their legs they spread to accomodate the placement of the bowl of food when sitting on the ground at mealtime.

That is all for now. Thank you for reading and thank you for your comments. Thinking of you.
David