Helping the elderly to read
3rd September 2006
Old people are kewl.
Take the group of seven or so ladies I helped to start on the road of
literary, for example. They wanted to learn English from
me.
Not for job related reasons - they were old and job opportunities
other than manual labour on neighbouring farms were but a distant pipe
dream.
Not for the joys that come from reading a good book - I did not see
one book anywhere in the village.
No, they wanted to learn English so they could talk to someone like
me, a Mzunugu (white person).
All seven of them piled into a small room inside of the house
that I was living in. The were keen and eager to learn.
One particular lady, with leathery skin from too many hours of laboring
in the African sun and saggy breasts from feeding the youth of Africa,
was very keen to learn. Her eyes were a watery brown and glazed
over with cataracts. She took her flax mat and plopped right in
front of the blackboard. "No see. No see," she
said and pointed at her eyes.
She was very pleased with herself when I taught them how to greet Mzunugus.
She never quite got it right, but her enthusiasm could not be
questioned. She came up to me several times over the next few
days, grabbed my hand, and said, "Good morning good morning how are
you I am fine how are you fine good morning I am fine."
Very kewl.
I also taught them how to hold a pen and how to write the
vowels.
One of the younger older ladies (who was holding a jumbo shrimp) had
obviously had some sort of schooling and wrote her vowels very
well. I glanced at her work and said "Oh! Yangwa (Fast)!",
and gave her a wink. Her back straightened and she glanced at
the others work with an I'm-cooler-than-thou look on her face. If
she was a rooster, I'm sure she would of started strutting around the
room.
Teaching the ladies was a lot of fun, but I can't help but have a few
reservations.
Firstly, while everyone has a right to learn how to read, I would of preferred
to of taught the young girls at the village. The future of Africa
is in their hands. Their God given talents are being wasted in
toiling Africa's soil. An education will open up so many doors for
them. Too many African girls are raising families by themselves
because their parents have been lost to HIV/AIDS or malaria. Children
raising children.
Secondly, what will happen once I am gone? MACRO
has promised to return to the village and train some locals in teaching
English. I'm sure they will, but other NGOs (Non Government
Organisations) have been in the village, brought minimally trained
teachers, and set up English classes. For any one of a number of
possible reasons, the teacher inevitably leaves and the locals go
without (again). The elderly ladies told me that there once was an
English class consisting of over thirty students in the village.
Thirdly, this experience was somewhat tempered by thoughts
like these.
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(c)
2005 and 2006 Malcolm Trevena.
All the stuff on this site is written by me, Malcolm Trevena. Feel free to
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