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.

Ah, The Children

+15:00 Zwedru~

Last night's venture into the neighborhood prepared me well for today's visit to the school. Joe had some photos of the neighborhood children he wanted to hand out and I wanted to take some shots of my surroundings. When the children caught sight of my camera, which isn't small, the photos of the homes and people acting naturally became an impossibility.

Instead, I was able to talk with a dozen or so children, all wanting their picture taken. As I would finish taking pictures, they would then try to touch my hand or my arms, before they started screaming in joy at seeing their photos through my viewfinder. It was entertaining to see so many kids laugh at their very image, as if they were movie stars now because of a camera.

This morning I visited my first school, Nixon Elementary and Junior High School, named after the man who donated the land. The children were no different than the night before. During recess, they would all come in droves, typically the smaller children, for an opportunity to shake my hand, touch my arm, look at my legs (more specifically the two cross tattoos) and have their pictures taken. One girl walked up to me and hugged my legs.

The school is interesting and nothing from what I expected. They study the same subjects as the rest of the world - math, science, English, social studies, etc. - but they don't have classes in the same manner. Each grade has one classroom. This means some classes are sparsely populated, such as the ninth and tenth grades, while others are packed in tightly with five or more to a bench, as is the case for kindergarten and pre-school. What amazes me the most about the larger classrooms is not how the children don't mind having to study in such cramped quarters, usually for five hours daily. It is how these are the classes where the teachers do not switch out every hour for a new classroom.

In the higher grades, second grade on up, the teachers teach one subject and then move to another classroom to teach. It's like high school, but in reverse. This is not the same for pre-school (known as ABC in Liberia) up through first grade. These classes, four in total since kindergarten is split into two levels, have one teach for the entire day. The students, packed into small, 10x10 rooms, have to endure the heat in a room with no fans while the teacher tends to the students, many of who may be sick from malnutrition or germs or any of a dozen other ailments that small children are afflicted with daily.

This isn't meant to shed a dark light on what is happening. Rather this is to praise what the teachers are doing daily. They teach, day-in and day-out, without the same pay as the others, without the opportunity to take a thirty-minute break in the day like the others, and without the same gratitude shown to the others. They take on the role of the surrogate mother - in a culture where the younger children are not cared for the same way as the older, in fact many children in the poorer villages are without clothes because the family would spend their money on clothing for the older sons and daughters.

This is why Joe spends more time working with these teachers and striving to provide resources for these classes than he does the other grades. The new building coming in for this school will be geared for the ABC to first grade classes. It will provide much-needed space for the students to learn, with an area where teachers can read to the students, with the books provided by Mike's friend (Mike is one of the four members of the team mentioned a few weeks ago) to start. It is a great beginning for many of these children, with more potential for success as they grow older.

I had mentioned the older classes have more space, but this does not equate to easier methods of learning. The schools all across the country have little money, and that means limited resources. There are no textbooks handed out at the beginning of the school year. Instead, the teacher lectures the students and provides notes on a blackboard, with the students taking meticulous notes (and drawings - I saw one student's work and his diagram of a chemical compound accompanied by a drawing of a Bunsen burner with its properties put me to shame).

These children are not here because they have to be here. Rather, these children are here because they want to be here. They want to get an education. Their dedication to school rivals many American children's dedication. I still have much more to see, but I think the future of this war-battered nation could bring great success if more children took the opportunity to receive a decent education.

Not everything is working in their favor, however. The Liberian government and the United Nations, from what I've seen, have become more of a hindrance than a help to the redevelopment to this nation. They throw money at the problem, but don't give Liberians anything to support themselves. It's like giving a child a fish. If you don't teach that child how to fish, he'll rely on you for the rest of his life. This nation has no real project aimed at helping the Liberians, but they collect taxes to provide a basic function. There are police, but I didn't see many unless I was at an immigration check point or in Monrovia. Little money goes to education or public works, competition is rare and many people are left waiting for someone to come in to help.

Power plants were destroyed during the war, but the government doesn't take any real action to rebuild them because they want to see if another organization (see: UN or USAID) will step in first. This not only prevents progress in this country, but makes a mockery of the oldest republic in Africa. I hope the children I met today, and those I will see as my time continues, will have an opportunity to turn this around and turn Liberia into a nation that can support itself without the help from the UN or the WHO, or any other organization.