Unsung Heroes

Today I made my way to an ark in Kingsway (the same one that I looked for for 2+ hours last Monday, and that I passed about 3 times today not realizing that it was the right place. But that's for another discussion.)

I saw the same basic setup, with classrooms for 5-6 year olds, 3-4 year olds, all working on the same basics that I saw last week. Most of it involves choral recitation of numbers, the alphabet, days o' the week, months o' the year, parts of the body, etc.  I even heard "Colors of the Robot (traffic light)" sung to the tune of Frére Jacques, which was pretty cool.  (yellow means be careful, yellow means be careful…).

It was also funny to see how my piss-poor knowledge of Zulu (and that assessment is generous) caught a few things: two teachers (last Friday in Wattville) were taking about the poster of basic shapes, and they referred to it as "amaShapes." They saw me looking funny. To my knowledge, "ama" is one of the Zulu markers for plural nouns.  I had to ask, "Did you just mention 'shapes' with both Zulu and English plurals?"  But I digress.

Back to today's ark.

The ark manager gave me a history of this ark.  Some of the dates/facts/numbers might be a little off, because my mind was boggling. She herself started this daycare in 2005, in a house of about about 20'x30', at best  There were ONE HUNDRED kids, ages 1 to 5, all being taught, cared for, protected, and fed by SEVEN staff members, who, I'm sure, were volunteers. They saw that the kids in their immediate neighborhood were being neglected, and they took action.  I stopped her several times along the way.

• "But 100 kids, with all the care (diapers, feedings) that a kid 1 to 3 needs"  Yes.
• "And you were able to feed them daily?"  Yes, the house had 100 kids, but a kitchen in a corner that we used to feed them.
• "One house?" Yes, with one bathroom. We made 'do' with buckets in the yard.

Eventually, funding came through to set up this day care center, with the government funding the after-school program, and Noah funding the classrooms. But because the requirements for each are different, regarding credentials/space/funding, they co-exist on one property.

I saw the after-school program for a bit, with kids from ages 6-9, more or less. Now, the school term ended last Friday, and they're on holiday for about 3 weeks.   Yet the kids were here, most in school uniform, still learning.

According to the Ark manager?  It's a safe place.  If they were at home, they could be abused, neglected,  in the presence of drugs and drug dealers…   At least here, from 9 to 2 every day, nothing could happen, and they were fed breakfast and lunch. She even pointed at a house across the street, in full view of the center, not 20 yards for the gate.  "They use THAT house for smoking drugs, all the time."

Her request from me had nothing to do with literacy. I had already made my little suggestions to the teachers in the classroom for steps to go for next, and I trust the teachers can take them, leave them, run with them, etc. They're doing a great job.

She wants me to come in for the after-care program and talk about issues:  Drugs. Poverty. Cleanliness/Hygiene/Environment.  Career goals. Abuse. Rape.  Safety.

It's going to get interesting.

Last week, Wendy and I were discussing the basic theme of what I saw and heard today: that there is so much need, and so few resources.

The women I've found at the Arks illustrate this story perfectly:

The Starfish

Based on the story by Loren Eisley...
I awoke early, as I often did, just before sunrise to walk by the ocean's edge and greet the new day. As I moved through the misty dawn, I focused on a faint, far away motion. I saw a youth, bending and reaching and flailing arms, dancing on the beach, no doubt in celebration of the perfect day soon to begin. 

As I approached, I sadly realized that the youth was not dancing to the bay, but rather bending to sift through the debris left by the night's tide, stopping now and then to pick up a starfish and then standing, to heave it back into the sea. I asked the youth the purpose of the effort. "The tide has washed the starfish onto the beach and they cannot return to the sea by themselves," the youth replied. "When the sun rises, they will die, unless I throw them back to the sea." 

As the youth explained, I surveyed the vast expanse of beach, strectching in both directions beyond my sight. Starfish littered the shore in numbers beyond calculation. The hopelessness of the youth's plan became clear to me and I countered, "But there are more starfish on this beach than you can ever save before the sun is up. Surely you cannot expect to make a difference." 

The youth paused briefly to consider my words, bent to pick up a starfish and threw it as far as possible. Turning to me he simply said, "I made a difference to that one." 

I left the boy and went home, deep in thought of what the boy had said. I returned to the beach and spent the rest of the day helping the boy throw starfish in to the sea.

From http://www.rogerknapp.com/inspire/starfish.htm