The dreams of an African child… SCHOOL
What does an African child dream about?
We will find out in this new column, by Xaverian missionary Father Oliviero Ferro
And when we understand that dreams (but not rights and possibilities) are the same as those of our children, it will be time to wake up and perform works of mercy.
Because through them, an African child (and others) will be able to live in the joy of being able to dream of something that can become possible
Every morning I see them walking past the mission. They go to school. The older ones hold hands with those in kindergarten. Some are even accompanied by their mother. They are up early. They are eager to learn and cannot stay home to sleep. At seven o’clock they have to be in line in front of the school, because the teachers are waiting for them.
In sunshine, in rain. Nothing stops them. They go together to grow up together. Their uniform brown, green, blue or other colors, depending on the school.
You see them walking by with their bag on their shoulders, where there are notebooks and, maybe, a few books.
The snack? Maybe there’s something there, but it’s all a surprise that you find out year at morning break.
Since it is a surprise, there is a risk that there is nothing there, so what? One will try to get something from friends.
When they enter the classroom and take their places in the desks, I always wonder how they can all fit in.
The classes, at a minimum, are 60-70 up to 100-110. But just squeeze in a little and there is room for everyone. The class begins.
The teacher writes on the blackboard and then invites them to copy in their notebooks. There is always someone who has forgotten or lost the bic and desperately asks someone for it. No problem: they will take turns using it.
Someone is tired and puts his little head on the desk. Maybe he is dreaming about what he will be when he grows up.
The teacher tries to gently wake him up. He crinkles his eyes, pretends nothing is wrong, and begins to write.
Finally, the break comes. Everyone looking for something to eat. It’s a bit of a treasure hunt.
You also have to go to nearby houses to look for water to drink, since there is no fountain nearby.
You play games, amidst the dust. In short, you go wild. School is heavy and you have to catch your breath.
Again, the whistle sounds and everyone in the classroom learning math in chorus. They learn to count.
They would perhaps also like to do the math of how to live better, but that is not possible for now. They have to make do.
Finally, at three o’clock in the afternoon, they can return home.
If you ask them what they have learned, you will be entitled to many original answers (as perhaps children do in other parts of the world). The important thing is that school is over: they will get to play for a while, before doing their homework and helping mom with the chores. Then, night will come and they can dream of a better world.
Source
Image
- Photo by father Oliviero Ferro
- digitally created by spazio + spadoni