Frustrations
Part of my job, as a Peace Corp Volunteer, is to be non-judgmental, non-confrontational. Currently, I’m finding it very difficult to do so. The situation: Matshwi is a school that’s classified as one that receives money from the government, but has to submit multiple quotations in a certain time period in order to obtain specific items. Not all schools are like this, Letseku receives a lump sum for their school to use on certain supplies. This allows them to easily budget for many of their stationary and cleaning costs. Leakhale, on the other hand, is like Matshwi in how the government distributes money to them. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t sort out their money correctly and are deeply in debt.
Luckily, Mr. Moraba, the principal of Matshwi, is a very organized individual. One of his goals for this year was to get a fence built around the school to prevent theft and vandalism of school property, a big problem in the village. He got the required quotes for the construction of the fence and turned them in during the required time period. Unfortunately, the district lost said quotes and didn’t turn them into the provincial level on time. Hence, no fence. Mr.Moraba is now at the circuit office almost daily in an attempt to fight this, I have my doubts about whether or not he will succeed.
It is instances like this that leave me so desperately frustrated with the education system. Case in point, children are supposed to pay school fees- 60 rand a year or the equivalent of 10 dollars. This comprises the school budget- Matshwi has 865 students thus their budget for the year is an estimated 51,900 rand or less than 10,000 dollars- less than 10,000 dollars a year for 865 students. It gets worse- about 40% of learners don’t pay fees- for a variety of reasons: some simply can’t afford the 60 rand- many more have parents that think they shouldn’t have to pay- that their children’s schooling should be free under the new democracy. To them, school fees are reminiscent of the apartheid days when their children could not attend school if they did not pay.
So the school attempts to work with what is left in this budget- plus a few fundraising days that raise approximately 100 hundred dollars each. Thus, it’s not hard to understand why a few of the following instances occur:
-Two weeks ago the school ran out of firewood and couldn’t cook the food for the children’s lunch. The district provides the food but the school is required to provide a way to cook it. Thus, though there were the ingredients for the meal sitting unused in the office, the students went hungry- for many their main meal of the day- because the school couldn’t afford to pay the few rand to buy fuel.
-The school can’t afford to pay this month’s electricity bill- as a result I hope we have a number of bright, cloud free days so the children can see to do their work.
Now perhaps all of this would not anger me as much as it does if the majority of public schools functioned on an equal playing field, but like anywhere that there is a vast difference in division of wealth, this is not the case. Schools in town, which not coincidentally tend to be primarily white- a clear sign of the long legacy of apartheid, charge much higher school fees- often hundreds a term- and have the means to fundraise more drastically- from local businesses and richer family members, thus their schools have auditoriums, computers, sports equipment, art equipment, libraries, administration offices, etc. They basically mimic American schools, while, less than a fifteen minute drive away you encounter schools like mine- schools where there are classes with no desks, where classwork tends to be a lengthy process because students have to share pencils, where we can’t count on electricity or food for the children, where students race to their classrooms so they can actually sit in a chair instead of on concrete, where playgrounds are a myth except for a spattering of boulders and old tires. None of this is a great secret- you have to drive by villages to get nearly anywhere- how ignorant and blind do people choose to be to all this? How much do they pretend that this is not a reality of their country? How do people in their big houses in town not feel guilty that they spend more on their dogs and cats than on the children of their country? Where did humanity lose its ability to be human?
I don’t claim to be perfect- or any type of martyr- I still go on vacation, I still eat at restaurants in town, my family sends me nice things in the mail that I can’t afford to buy. I’m not lacking for any of my needs. Sometimes in the midst of all this I feel guilty- that I should give away my things, that I should be spending my time helping villagers instead of going away for a weekend. Yet, I’m still at a point in my selfishness that I’m not ready to give it all up.
Currently, I’m reading Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder, which I recommend as you own test of dedication and acknowledgement towards humanity, as it chronicles the life of Paul Farmer, a doctor, who really has changed the world in his fight to bring medicine to the impoverished peoples of the world. It makes me realize that I’m not making any real sacrifice, not the way in which I really could, but perhaps if we all tried to learn a lesson from the man who has dedicated his life to bringing equality to everyone, then maybe we could make the division in our world a little less severe, at least we could give a few children a chance. The following are some examples of his complete dedication:
“He’s still going to make these hikes, he’d insist, because if you say that seven hours is too long to walk for two families of patients, you’re saying that their lives matter less than some others, and the idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that’s wrong in the world.”
“How does one person with great talents come to exert a force on the world? I think in Farmer’s case the answer lies somewhere in the apparent craziness, the sheer impracticality, of half of everything he does, including the hike to Casse.”
Simply think about that the next time you drink your four dollar Starbucks latte, or in my case Dulce, and try to put that much effort into helping another person, who like you worries; worries when their child is sick, or how they will pay this month’s expense, or feels the same heat and cold you do, except- perhaps, a bit more acutely.
Luckily, Mr. Moraba, the principal of Matshwi, is a very organized individual. One of his goals for this year was to get a fence built around the school to prevent theft and vandalism of school property, a big problem in the village. He got the required quotes for the construction of the fence and turned them in during the required time period. Unfortunately, the district lost said quotes and didn’t turn them into the provincial level on time. Hence, no fence. Mr.Moraba is now at the circuit office almost daily in an attempt to fight this, I have my doubts about whether or not he will succeed.
It is instances like this that leave me so desperately frustrated with the education system. Case in point, children are supposed to pay school fees- 60 rand a year or the equivalent of 10 dollars. This comprises the school budget- Matshwi has 865 students thus their budget for the year is an estimated 51,900 rand or less than 10,000 dollars- less than 10,000 dollars a year for 865 students. It gets worse- about 40% of learners don’t pay fees- for a variety of reasons: some simply can’t afford the 60 rand- many more have parents that think they shouldn’t have to pay- that their children’s schooling should be free under the new democracy. To them, school fees are reminiscent of the apartheid days when their children could not attend school if they did not pay.
So the school attempts to work with what is left in this budget- plus a few fundraising days that raise approximately 100 hundred dollars each. Thus, it’s not hard to understand why a few of the following instances occur:
-Two weeks ago the school ran out of firewood and couldn’t cook the food for the children’s lunch. The district provides the food but the school is required to provide a way to cook it. Thus, though there were the ingredients for the meal sitting unused in the office, the students went hungry- for many their main meal of the day- because the school couldn’t afford to pay the few rand to buy fuel.
-The school can’t afford to pay this month’s electricity bill- as a result I hope we have a number of bright, cloud free days so the children can see to do their work.
Now perhaps all of this would not anger me as much as it does if the majority of public schools functioned on an equal playing field, but like anywhere that there is a vast difference in division of wealth, this is not the case. Schools in town, which not coincidentally tend to be primarily white- a clear sign of the long legacy of apartheid, charge much higher school fees- often hundreds a term- and have the means to fundraise more drastically- from local businesses and richer family members, thus their schools have auditoriums, computers, sports equipment, art equipment, libraries, administration offices, etc. They basically mimic American schools, while, less than a fifteen minute drive away you encounter schools like mine- schools where there are classes with no desks, where classwork tends to be a lengthy process because students have to share pencils, where we can’t count on electricity or food for the children, where students race to their classrooms so they can actually sit in a chair instead of on concrete, where playgrounds are a myth except for a spattering of boulders and old tires. None of this is a great secret- you have to drive by villages to get nearly anywhere- how ignorant and blind do people choose to be to all this? How much do they pretend that this is not a reality of their country? How do people in their big houses in town not feel guilty that they spend more on their dogs and cats than on the children of their country? Where did humanity lose its ability to be human?
I don’t claim to be perfect- or any type of martyr- I still go on vacation, I still eat at restaurants in town, my family sends me nice things in the mail that I can’t afford to buy. I’m not lacking for any of my needs. Sometimes in the midst of all this I feel guilty- that I should give away my things, that I should be spending my time helping villagers instead of going away for a weekend. Yet, I’m still at a point in my selfishness that I’m not ready to give it all up.
Currently, I’m reading Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder, which I recommend as you own test of dedication and acknowledgement towards humanity, as it chronicles the life of Paul Farmer, a doctor, who really has changed the world in his fight to bring medicine to the impoverished peoples of the world. It makes me realize that I’m not making any real sacrifice, not the way in which I really could, but perhaps if we all tried to learn a lesson from the man who has dedicated his life to bringing equality to everyone, then maybe we could make the division in our world a little less severe, at least we could give a few children a chance. The following are some examples of his complete dedication:
“He’s still going to make these hikes, he’d insist, because if you say that seven hours is too long to walk for two families of patients, you’re saying that their lives matter less than some others, and the idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that’s wrong in the world.”
“How does one person with great talents come to exert a force on the world? I think in Farmer’s case the answer lies somewhere in the apparent craziness, the sheer impracticality, of half of everything he does, including the hike to Casse.”
Simply think about that the next time you drink your four dollar Starbucks latte, or in my case Dulce, and try to put that much effort into helping another person, who like you worries; worries when their child is sick, or how they will pay this month’s expense, or feels the same heat and cold you do, except- perhaps, a bit more acutely.
posted by Cait at 10:38 AM
1 Comments:
You touch upon one of South Africa's big problems here - the breakdown of administrative processes. Supplying the school with their needs is a simple thing. Some clerk in an office has to place an order with a supplier. Unfortunately things are not that simple. The clerk got the job simply because of his skin color. His boss likewise. The supplier has also been chosen on the grounds of race and political connections. Nowhere does competence to actually do the job play any part. Still wonder why the system is falling apart?
You lash out against whites elsewhere on this page. Competent white people have been systematically eridicated from government departments to make way for "previously disadvantaged individuals". The SA government is so obsessed with racial quotas that its not getting on with the job at hand.
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