The snowball of experiences and emotions rolled on relentlessly. Jarvah had been up in the night with many wet nappies and had needed more Panadol to control his temperature. Rosie and Ticha were sure that something was more seriously wrong than just being overheated in church, so Rosie bowed out of our second letter writing session, to look after Jarvah and in case they decided to take him in to Dodoma for tests, five hours away on the bus. Poor little Jarvah was worn out and definitely not himself.
Keith and I left without breakfast, intending to make the most of every single minute of our last two days at the secondary school. We had not arrived in time for assembly before, so it was interesting to see the 7.15 a.m. line up and to hear the gentle voice of the head prefect addressing the students. The school song was sung, with real fervour behind the voices of all these young people, who know themselves to be privileged among their peers, because of the opportunity to study. Next hair, nails and shoes were checked, with the prefects urged to be careful, and to send anyone not in readiness for school inside. Inside, a brief word to inquire if there were problems, and when none was mentioned, a plea to take care next morning, and the two, out of nearly two hundred students, returned to their lines.
A notice was read to the silent crowd by the head prefect, Madam Simbee made a brief address in Swahili, which twice raised laughter, and the students were dismissed to their classes. The school song is sung daily and the Tanzanian National Anthem twice a week.
Madam Simbee and I started with the scholarship students, and Lukas had been right about needing further time. Some students had brought in drafts that they had written for homework but others were starting from the point we’d finished at last Friday. I wondered if, for them as for me, it seemed a long time ago. It would have been impossible to correct all the spelling and all the English constructions, and not very valuable educationally without the time to teach about the corrections. In addition, as a sponsor, I thought that it would be more telling and more interesting to receive a letter written at the student’s own standard, and to be able to see progress as the student progressed up the school.
More important was for me to read the more than forty letters in order to check them for adherence to the guidelines - telling interesting information and not asking for things. Most students wrote letters that would have been interesting for their sponsors to read, and which showed awareness of the Australian cultural features that they had learnt about. For some, however, putting themselves into someone else’s shoes and seeing which details would help to bring a topic alive for the sponsor, was very difficult. Two students were still in need of individual help at the end of the session, and I was grateful to two form four boys who stayed back with us and gave back-up support in Swahili. With the envelopes addressed and sealed, there may have been a few that slipped past my vigilance, but I was confident that the very individual and interesting letters would help the sponsors to form connections with their students.Meanwhile, Madam Simbee had been taking new and creative photos of the scholarship students so that she could burn a CD for Rosie to take back to Joy and the sponsors in Australia. It was a pity that several of the students were away.
One of the students, a young man in form four, wrote the most outstanding letter on education in Tanzania in very good English. He had been absent for the part of our Friday session in which Rosie said that it is not appropriate to ask for things, and he had included a passionate plea for further assistance if at all possible, with his education for the next two years, when no support from the scholarship program is expected. To me, this was different to asking for a bike, but nevertheless he was asked to remove the paragraph. His sponsor would never receive that part of his message, but Keith and I had received it, and together we continued to investigate a practical way for the form four students to continue. Since the first week, the stone of dismay that had hung heavily around me, weighted by my increasing emotional involvement with the students, had led me to consider sponsoring them all.We had meetings with the Head Master, Mr Chalala, and Madam Simbee, we wrote up tables of projected costs, learnt about the various possible educational options for after form four and discussed the possibilities for individual students. We learnt that it is not just a pass that is required, but that there are three standards, each of which leads off to a different range of options. The vocational options, such as teaching and the military, are recruitments and as such are subsidised. To gain a place in a State Secondary School for form five, a student must pass the exams with results in the categories of ‘good’ or ‘excellent’, with certain averages in particular combinations of subjects. Any student from Farkwa who achieved this would have to board at or near the school that he/she was successful in gaining a place in, since even the nearest was about 30 kilometres away. The level of the marks, and the preferences nominated by the student, would combine to allocate places. A second round would follow, after first responses were sorted out.
All the time, we were aware that our suggestions all involved more work, more responsibility and more accounting procedures for the teachers here. It was so gratifying to see the response – delight that a solution might be found to solve a problem that also weighed heavily on them. Together we worked out what seemed to be a workable proposal, and I undertook to write it up and send it to Joy, the scholarship scheme coordinator, and the sponsors.
In total, the money required for a form five student would be something just over 200.000 Tanzanian Shillings. Unfortunately the economic news was not good, with our Australian dollars buying many fewer shillings than only two weeks before, but even so, at about Au$260, the annual cost of an education, including board and uniform, would hopefully be within the realms of possibility for some Australian sponsors.
The return email from Joy was to be encouraging, and as I write, in mid October, it seems that our aims may be achieved. Assistance continues to be needed, since each year it is hoped that more very needy students will be given the gift of an education. There are also two form four students, not on scholarships to date, who are likely to do well and who would qualify for a future scholarship, if donors can be found.
If any reader would like to be a sponsor or know more about the Fostering Futures for Kids in Farkwa, please visit the website:
http://farkwakids.org
After the break, Rosie rang to say that they were on their way to Dodoma on the bus. They would have some tests done for Jarvah to find out what was wrong, rather than wait, since there had been no improvement.
At school, the hiccups and frustrations that can happen in rushing to complete projects were happening. We both needed computer time and, on top of that, a miscommunication between Keith and me meant that one job had not been done at all and another wasn’t done as required. The computers were being juggled between battery and solar power. I was teaching Madam Simbee and some students how to make slide shows, while Keith was teaching about managing files. At last, with the school computer free for a moment, I was able to show more projects to the form fours and the slide shows to the form threes.
My touch typing to complete the unfinished task amazed the students and teacher onlookers. Keith was helping a small group of students to try out some basic word processing skills. It was hectic and continued so as we worked until the bell, and then kept going since the students didn’t want to stop.Just before home time, Rosie rang to say that Jarvah had the early stages of typhoid, and that he was on anti-biotics and paracetamol, and that they would stay overnight in Dodoma. There was no choice really, since the next bus would be at 8.30 a.m. It was a relief for them that it had been sorted out, but it had been a long day of queuing and paying, before the right medication had started.
Keith worked on at school until dark. It was becoming a habit. I asked Madam Simbee to write a note for me in Swahili, so that the family would understand all the details about Jarvah when I returned with the news. Pius, a form four student who was practising on the computer, typed the note up in a colourful and stylish font. With no printer, it was the quickly written original that I clasped in my hand as he escorted me down the hill.
We ran into Lukas near the shop, where I was buying yet more pens. He was pretty downcast, and worried. He had just finished his second last day of school ever at Farkwa, and after tomorrow and the exams, that would be it. It had hit him hard, and I felt sad to see his distress.
On the way we met the lady who had been so friendly to me on other occasions. She clasped my hands, made small talk which was translated by Pius, and after about five minutes, asked me to come with her to her house to have a drink. Having heard about her problems with drinking, I was in a quandary as to what to do. I asked Pius for his advice, and he recommended against it since she seemed a little ‘not herself’. It seemed good advice, especially in view of not sharing a language. Pius showed his maturity and the respect that is shown elders, in gently thanking her but explaining that I had to be home very quickly and I couldn’t visit that day.
I was in turmoil over whether to give some hope to Pius, Lukas and the other students who had shared their worries with me over their futures after form four, but at that stage, before any response from Australia, things were so uncertain. I decided that I had better wait.
At home, I presented the letter to Bibi and Fidelisi, and soon everyone had gathered around. It seemed that typhoid was not too bad, particularly if caught early, and also that the medical history of the family had regularly included all the diseases that really frighten me. They were glad of the news and appreciated having the details. Hawa helped me with the kerosene lanterns, and without Rosie home, and with Keith still at school, she and Maria took me under their wings. The three of us had dinner together, and after we had eaten, Maria found the photo album that Rosie had brought with her on this visit. We had a wonderful time, recognising people who we knew in common such as Rosie’s family, and even our house and us. Rosie and Ticha had travelled quite widely when Ticha was first in Australia and there were many beautiful photos of landscapes and also of different aspects of life. Hawa was wonderful for translating, but it was amazing how much Maria and I could exchange by gestures and the few words that we had in each other’s languages. Keith arrived to find us having ‘a girl’s night in’, and enjoyed looking at the photos too while he ate his dinner.
It was a quiet evening without the little boys, and we hoped that poor little Jarvah was improving and that he and Rosie would get some sleep.
A few days previously, Pius and Fredy’s mother had come over to discuss the future with Rosie and Ticha, and this morning we were heading for a rock art site and would be able to call in on her on the way. Luckily everyone is looking at future needs, and not at past happenings, so the pleasant meetings on both occasions have enabled consideration be given to everyone’s needs to keep in touch after the boys move to Australia and how to continue to be part of the boys’ lives. It was very touching to see the older boys with their little brother, Henry, and some beautiful family photos were taken. Some were of the combined families – the reality for Fredy and Pius and now very much a part of Rosie’s and her children’s world too. It was only a pity that Ticha was not there.
Our convoy of escorts of all the older boys and Hawa broke up, with only Hawa, Jarvah, Keith, Rosie and me continuing on to see the rock paintings. The others stayed to visit longer, and Sebi, was induced to stay by having a packet of biscuits to share out and eat.
Back to collect the other children, we noticed the dispensary where Pius and Freddy’s step-father, the doctor, was seeing a patient. Water was available just below, and donkeys with water containers tied onto them were waiting patiently for the filling up to be completed. The doctor returned, and we talked with him about health issues while Rosie and Mama Freddy organised the children. He has a microscope but it is not in use. I gathered that there would need to additional special training for it to be useful, although we didn’t discuss this in full. Instead a diagnosis is made from careful observation of the symptoms and from a very detailed history of how the illness has manifested itself. The doctor had a lot of experience and knowledge of the diseases that are found here, and could prescribe appropriate medications. I was about to ask about the relationship between the Mission Hospital and the Doctor’s clinic, when suddenly we were off. Like with lots of things, my curiosity had to take second place since we were extended family on a friendly social call, and that role took over as we wished everyone farewell.
It was probably too hot for most self respecting birds to be about, and he didn’t see any. Some broken stones showed where the workers had been gathering rocks for the new house.
The bus finally arrived with Mshaka on board, but apart from a brief greeting, the family would have to wait for his visit, since protocol demanded that he stay at the Mission. Alnesti’s daughters, Betty and Resti (Ticha’s nieces), arrived on the bus from their home in a nearby village and their mother, another Mama Rosie (Alnesti’s wife), would come the next day.
When Mshaka came over, Rosie and Ticha talked to him about their feelings, and about how they wanted Jarvah to be baptised with his own name. There were many baptised children around with names not in the Bible – some with Muslim names, some with names like ‘Good Luck’ and others who were given the names of the days of the week. While Mshaka would be performing the baptism, he was visiting and was not in a position to make changes. It was sad to see Rosie and Ticha so distressed over what should be a joyous occasion for them. Eventually, Rosie rang Father Godi and calmly put the ultimatum that it was Jarvah or nothing. In half an hour she had her answer, Jarvah was in and maybe that name would belong to a saint one day! Common sense and humanity had prevailed.
Washing the clothes by hand is a daily job for Rosie.
The strange upside down tree.
