The Next Brad Pitt? (Not Likely)

+16:00 Zwedru ~

Whenever I visit a school, I get the celebrity treatment. The children all stare at me, wave, try to shake my hand or touch my skin. It's like I'm Brad Pitt, only not at all.

Today, Joe, Pastor Dweh and I traveled to Zleh Town, about 42km from Zwedru. The school, Trinity Lutheran, is only in its second year with 122 children enrolled, up from 78 last year. When the car pulled up to the school building, a temporary building with thatch roofing, the children were singing songs of welcome.

Inside, the classes were paired in twos, to fit the small building, and sectioned off by mud walls and no doors. The entrance sets you directly in the "ABC" (pre-school) and K-1 classes, where more than 50 children are cramped into just a few benches. It didn't affect them, however, as they were still excited to meet their visitor. The other classes were considerably smaller, with the highest two grades consisting of just a handful of students - all girls.

After a brief visit into the classrooms, the teachers led us up to the church for a welcoming ceremony. The women of the church began with a song and dance similar to what I received on Sunday in Zwedru. Then the children of the ABC and kindergarten class performed another welcoming song. I enjoyed both songs, and the rest that followed, however, I must say it was odd sitting in the center of the alter in front of everyone. Almost kingly, and very uncomfortable.

After hearing from various leaders of the church and school, they wished to have me speak - catching me off guard. I'm not one to prepare anything, nor am I one who really expects to speak at anything. However, I am also not one who will keep his mouth shut when given an opportunity.

Normally, I would say something and everyone would stare and take in what is said and move along. Not this time. I would think it was more humorous than anything how this unfolded. Not because I said anything funny or did something to embarrass myself or others. But because I know the entire time I'm speaking, not one single person could actually understand what I was saying. I'm certain they were listening only to hear what an American sounds like since they've never seen one before.

Upon our return to the school, after Joe presented the good news about the school receiving the funding needed for a new building to be opened before the next school year, the kids were more subdued. They either shied away from asking questions or kept staring at their guest. When we handed out new shirts for uniforms, however, they livened up, reanimated by the sight of new clothing. The shirts were donated from a Lutheran school in Indiana. With this village being so poor, and rarely visited from what I could see, the sight of new shirts were welcomed by child and parent alike.

I must say it was great to see so many children wanting to go to school. They come to listen and learn and don't complain about the cramped quarters, the six kids to a bench that should hold only three. I hope their new building will help encourage great growth at this school, so more Liberian children can receive an education.

I need to write something about the trip to Zleh Town and back to Zwedru. The car we rode in is nothing to write home about, except to say it is an adventure in waiting. The driver swore his car could make it to Monrovia, but there was no way, with the engine constantly backfiring and the gas tank missing. Instead, the driver had a 5-gallon oil canister filled with gas, a rubber hose syphoning gas from the canister, located next to the engine. It was miracle in itself we didn't have a car fire. Plus, the car ended up breaking down about 45 feet from Pastor Dweh's house on our return. After we had returned, I sat down and ran my hand through my hair, turning my hand black from the smoke the car kept spewing.