Week VIII - Day 1

Visiting Schools

A week ago I started some research on schools in Juba. I figured that Mayor Wani would take a bit longer than I wanted to wait for the information I requested. In looking for information on schools in Juba, I came across a report conducted by two Englishmen, David Longfield and Jim Tooley. Of course, I reached out to both of them in order to learn more about their work as well as to see if they would be able to put me in touch with anyone in Juba who had been running schools. I was pleasantly surprised to receive a response from both men but, completely shocked that Mr. Longfield sent me a list of schools and school leaders for me to contact.

Because the email came during a holiday, Eid al Adha or "Feast of the Sacrifice", I decided to wait to make cold calls to the school leaders. I was so excited to make a connection with two university professors who had spent time in Juba and even more excited to hear back from both of them that I could hardly sleep over the weekend. I’m sure it was one of the reasons why my last blog took so long to get published. 

Anyway, once Monday rolled around, I began making calls and was invited to make three visits immediately! We called Taban and got ready to drive over to Gudele - the area in which two of the schools were located and far away from Juba proper. Taban showed up right away and we took off on our new journey to visit schools.

At some point, the tarmac road ended and we were riding along atop course gravel and dipping into potholes the size of Lake Victoria. I prayed that Taban’s car would remain in tact and that the fuel would not run out before he could purchase some from the boda-boda boys. Gas stations were closed and the line for gas stretched around corners and at least a half mile away from the actual pumps. But, the boda-boda boys have been selling it on the black-market in used one-liter water bottles.

It reminded me of the late 80s when crack deals took place at the corner of Runnymede and Illinois in East Palo Alto (EPA): everyone knew it was illegal but, the money came too fast for young people to “Just say no.” I wondered if at the end of the fuel shortage in South Sudan there would be a plaque to possibly read “Get to class, put down the gas”…similar to EPA’s “Up with hope, down with dope” sign. I found myself trying to keep hope alive for the young men.

When we arrived to the first school, Big Ben Secondary, we were met by Major Clement; a grey-haired man pushing 65 but with a youthful twinkle in his eyes. He was very excited to meet us and enthusiastically welcomed us to his campus. Major Clement gave us a brief history of the school; letting us know that students came from all over South Sudan because they’d fled their homes during the war. He then took us for a walk and we visited a few classrooms.

He shared that some of the students were in fact adults and that it was a bit more challenging to educate them. As we toured the site, I could see that the campus sat on what looked like at least ten acres of land in a swampy area surrounded by tall grass on every side. Major Clement shared his vision for future expansion with new buildings, showed us the school garden, and pointed out where a soccer field would be installed. I was impressed by his ability to maintain as well as remain optimistic in spite of little financial support from the government.

Inside the large classrooms, we saw groups of students numbering anywhere between 25 and 40. They were commanded to rise as Michael and I walked in and greeted us with “You’re welcome.” Major Clement shared information with the scholars on who we were and then asked us to introduce ourselves. We did this three or four times and I let him know that we did not want to distract anymore students: my accent and fast talking had the students busting out in laughter potentially making it difficult for the teacher to get them back on track.

We walked back to the school courtyard which was damp and a bit muddy from the previous night's rainfall but far easier to manage than the nasty street I’d fallen down on the previous. Before escorting us out the front gate, Major Clement expressed his gratitude for our visit and welcomed us to return whenever we wanted. I thought to myself, “I’ll be back very soon for sure.”

Taban was waiting for us and we began our short drive over to the next school. I had no idea that we had to cross a thirty-foot long bridge that was missing metal planks. Taban stopped the car mid-span, got out, and inspected the spot he needed to navigate the tires in order to keep us from getting stuck or falling down. I was praying the entire time that God would direct his hands and that Michael would not have a heart attack as he sat in the front seat with a better view of the precarious situation. We made it across the bridge and then had to pass through a mud slick that I just knew we’d get stuck in but, Taban was blessed with the gift of driving and I was exceedingly thankful.

When we finally made it to New Comfort Primary School, Mary Grace Antero greeted us at the gate; stick in hand. There was a group of about twenty five children sitting outside under a tree receiving a lesson. They looked to be the age of kindergarten students. They were very engaged in the lesson and barely noticed us as we passed them by to enter the school grounds.

Once inside, I was expecting to see stucco buildings and painted walls with bright colors. Instead, the entire school was constructed of mud, sticks, and corrugated tin roofs resembling a labyrinth of caves. Michael towered over a few of the rooms and was unable to enter. Mary Grace showed us every classroom – all of them crowed with children and some of them with students sitting on the ground in the doorway. Each classroom had a blackboard, no desks or chairs, and were hot as hell.

My thoughts as we toured New Comfort Primary School:

“My God! How does anyone teach or learn in this environment? How long can Mary Grace sustain and keep buildings from washing away in the heavy rains? Where is the government and why isn’t there proper funding for education?”

Entering Mary Grace’s office, I immediately decided against asking the questions I’d been thinking about. Instead, I introduced the two of us and thanked her for humbly accepting and welcoming us to her school. She knew right away that Michael was Dinka and asked me where I was from. When I told her I was an American she said, “Negro.” With a big smile on my face, I said, “Yes! Finally someone who knows about me and my people.” I was glad that I did not have to go through the task of explaining what I was to her.

She offered us a few pieces of advice on opening and running a school in Juba:

“It is very difficult if you don’t have funding and the government will not help you. You will find it hard to get land in this area and should even think about going to the village instead of trying here in Juba. The UN and other NGOs will support you better if you are in the village.”

Our time with her was brief as the afternoon lunch break was just about to get underway. We thanked her for being so candid and left. I found it amazing that she had confirmed what I’d been thinking and telling Michael for a few days; going to the village could prove to be the best move for us if we want to operate a school…or would it?

I was not sure about what Michael and I would do in the area of education but, I knew that we had a lot more to learn before doing anything. Visiting a few more schools may be the next step for us.