Mrs. Moore’s – Friday Night –
Crickets and Cicadas, chirps and excited far away yells. Cars and buses on the highway far down the hill.
A single low-energy fluorescent bulb overhead. Ceiling fans spinning. Breat and Celeste silently writing. A strange flying bug lands on my head.
We arrived on time. We breezed through customs. It’s the slow season, we learned, making the invitations and solicitations of the red caps and taxi drivers all the more robust. Paul Campbell, our driver/guide, met us outside. He’s a tall, very gracious man. He was holding a white sign with red letters that read “Priesta”. Our eyes lit up with excitement and relief as through the miracle of the telephone we met the person who was waiting for us, though we had never met. “I knew it was you” he said. “Only if you were told to look for three white people lost in a sea of people.” I replied.
He is here to serve us – to take away that portion of our stress. “Free your mind,” he said a few times. Just relax. Tell me what you want to do, and I will tell you the best way to do it. He has known Mrs. Moore 20 some years. He takes many groups – church groups. “You may be wondering about the half-bottle of whiskey. That was left behind by a friend. It’s not mine.” (It was sitting next to him). “Sure,” we said, laughingly. We believe him. Seriously.
We’re driving to Lethe. T raffic is building – the sights – driving on the left, driver on the right – are both shocking and comforting – rough looking skinny bloodshot eye rastas and school children in uniforms. Near accidents and posters with the fastest humans – titles now held by Jamaicans.
We start to see familiar kids faces, now grown a year older. I recognize the faces mostly because I’ve been looking at a slideshow and picture frames of them for a year now. Funny how when all you’ve got is a picture, your mind doesn’t apply its own aging to the people you’re looking at. The children stand at bus stops. They walk the pot-hole ridden roads.
We arrive at the school. Mrs. Brown, with her many, thin brown braids – isn’t sure she recognizes me, and I’m not sure I recognize her. Her 1st grade teacher, I remember well. There are a couple of older male helpers around. The first grade teacher (Mrs. Needham) and Allison McGee are there. We are introduced awkwardly and straight away to Mrs. Irving – a VERY SHY woman – having a very hard time making ends meet. Six children – all ages – one grown. She lives up from the school on the right. Her smile is precious – her hair braided close on her head. We meet her at 10 at the little shop up the road tomorrow.
Yes, it was awkward. We stood between the buildings of the school. Celeste coached me in the van afterwards that in my discomfort my arms were crossed and I looked stern the whole time. It was my first real venture trying to create something from nothing cross-culturally.
We learned about some needs:
Physically – the building needs repair but is government-owned. Red tape here.
Computers with learning software are desired. On carts?
Perishable supplies such as construction paper, books, lined paper.
Money for the food program.\
Roughly 80 of the kids get fed breakfast – 70-100 more need it.
Path identifies kids in need – for lunches? If kids miss more than 3 times, they are off the roles. Breakfast is based on donations and hasn’t happened this year. Everybody comes when it is offered. Remedial education – reading and math – would be helpful, but there is no money. Possibiliity of funding through the church. Uniforms for schools are not provided.
The gutters leaked – rusted through. Birds fly in and through the classrooms – 7 rooms, divided by chalkboards.
I’m sure they’re talking to their husbands about us. That pastor seemed angry. Why is it all about needs? What if we could feed the kids?
My aunt is a teacher. Her worldview is one of persistent compassion mixed with the apathy and cynicism that comes from years and masses of troubling circumstances.
Striking things:Derelict structure on side of road
Lazy work ethic
Led to introspection.
So many things to do –
They don’t believe we’ll do anything
Decompressing 3 hours – vs. Bret’s experience
Paul – Relax your mind
Jumble of ideas
Uniforms – see it, touch it, feel it
Helps with pride
Appropriateness
Clothing/Shoes
Tutoring program
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