More School Stuff

I've been spending a bit more time at the local primary school, standing in for teachers who are sick or otherwise occupied, and rehearsing for a Grade Project on the Rainbow Nation (more about that later).

Apart from the two hours when I had to occupy 100 (yes, one hundred) Grade Threes while the teachers were busy with inspectors and parents, my most challenging time has been taking the Grade 6 and Grade 7 classes for Maths and Science.  For three whole days.

I swear I only started learning algebra in high school

My home base for those three days was the Science Lab.  Bonus!.  When last did you see these things?

Nowadays you usually see bottles like this in display cabinets in pharmacies

These bring back memories of colourful and peculiar smoke and smells from my own school days

One of the teachers claims that her appendix is in one of these jars.  Not so sure what the toothpicks are doing on the shelf though.

Typical science teacher's desk. I particularly like the toilet roll.  My surname is apparently quite difficult to pronounce, so I am called Mrs G.  Or ma'am.

Remember the day each year when school came to a standstill for class photos?  And those signs for each photo where each letter had its own special shade of off-white?

The school celebrated its 20th birthday during September.  As you can imagine, getting this picture together in close to 30 degrees Centigrade was quite a feat in patience and discipline.

The walls around the outside of the school are painted green, yellow and black. For the first few months in Mthatha I thought that this was because Mthatha is an ANC stronghold.  Needless to say, I felt rather silly when it dawned on me that the colour scheme is a reflection of the school colours.

How cool is that!

Last Tuesday, during second break, Umtata High School Band came to play for the kids.  Here's a sample of what they played:

There is no band teacher at Umtata High - the pupils pass their knowledge on to the new band members each year. Very few of them can read music. Proof that if you want to do something badly enough, you will succeed.

It is particularly appropriate that the band is playing R Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly'"

(When you watch it for the second time, have a look at the audience - singing and dancing.  The kids at the back on the right are in Grade Three.  They've just learned how to knit [boys and girls] and some of them are knitting while dancing.)

The more time I spend at this school, the more hope I have for this country.  There are some extremely bright young sparks coming through the system, and I look forward to watching them as they follow their paths to success.

Downtime

In Mthatha, Downtime is a regular occurrence - no power and no water.  We even have a 5000 litre JoJo tank in our garden, as do the schools and  many residents. 

But sometimes Downtime is a good thing.  Especially when it means Down at the Beach.

A few weeks ago, Bob was called to meetings in Port Elizabeth and East London.  He suggested that instead of staying at guest houses by himself, we (dogs included) should join him and make the trek to the seaside for a looong weekend.  Excellent idea!

So off I go to stock up on essentials. As I leave the bottle store, the chap helping me take my purchases to the car asks me if I own a B&B.  I tell him no, I don't.  "Does ma'am own a restaurant then?" 

Then I realise why he's asking.  The trolley he's pushing for me contains 1 case Hansa, 1 case Savanna, 1 box red wine, and 4 bottles Old Brown Sherry (just in case we needed to ward off a cold front).  To me, this is a perfectly reasonable amount of refreshment for a four-day weekend for two, with a bit left over in case of visitors.  Apparently this is not the case in Mthatha.

As the weekdays away were business for Bob, he was allowed to use company transport.  As I clambered aboard, my olfactory nerves were assaulted to the extent that my nose hairs were singed.  We had to endure five hours of Stale while we drove.  Stale cigarette smoke. Stale sweat. Stale junk food. Stale farts.

And it didn't end there.  On arrival at the shack, we discovered that a bushbuck ram had died in our back garden a few weeks before. The neighbours had wondered for several days about the dreadful smell, and eventually discovered the carcass in our garden. The degree of putrefaction was such that the date and cause of death could not be determined, but the length of the horns indicated that the buck was about 8 years old.

When we thanked them for removing the remains, they said there was no need - they removed it purely because they couldn't live with the smell themselves.

The spot where the bushbuck ram was found. 

 Fortunately that was the end of the bad smells, and the Downtime continued as it should - lots of reading, eating, sleeping, walking on the beach, laughing, playing games and chatting to neighbours, friends and family.

(In case you were wondering, the four bottles of OBs returned to Mthatha intact.  Unfortunately the same cannot be said about the rest of the provisions.)