What's happenin'

Writers' Club

Leo seems to have made me a special friend. He is one of the slower and older boys. Communication with him is difficult, seems to understand very little. Early on in class he was ignoring all that was going on, completely absorbed in a note of multi-folded paper. Since he doesn't read well, I wondered at his deliberation as I confiscated the missive and put it on my desk. This caused him some visible distress. Towards the end of the day, the note was still there, I called Leo in and returned it, saying he can have notes, but shouldn't read them during class. This oddly enough seemed to make him my friend and he'd go out of his way to pass by and greet me in the morning or on the playground.

Next thing I know, he'd joined the Writers' Club, one of the least communicative kids in the school. Well teachers wouldn't be teachers if they didn't believe in miracles. A few day ago, in class I was trying to extend Leo's attention span, finally went up to his desk, while speaking to him, he seemed to nod off. His response was of someone sleep deprived. I checked with other teachers and Ms. Mwanza, alerted them but we know almost nothing of his home life.

Next Writers' Club we were reporting on our assignment, an outline for our first story. Most of the boys had stories of a boy meets girl variety. We get to Leo's: A man comes home and beats his wife. She responds, "No problem."

How much of Leo's story is actually 'his story'?

Immigration Office (an obligatory story of anyone extending their visa in Zambia, I know I did one on my last visit here, sorry)

To keep one from getting bogged down in their problems, the Imm. Off. has a specail program called Visa Extension. You must drop whatever positive work you might be doing and go in person to get in line, sign in and then face a bewildering array of desks numbered from 1 to 16. This is completely different from my last visit. Do you do the desks in order, or just pick your lucky number? I knew this was my "shake down visit" where I'd learn everything I done wrong and what I must do on my next visit to be successful. I took careful notes this Friday afternoon. On Monday I gathered all the needed items, photos, xerox pass port pages, letters with proper letterhead and signatures and finally a bank check for the amount of the fee. With high hopes I presented the fruits of my labors (labours) on Monday. HA!! The bank check which I had gotten at some time and effort was correct for the fixed fee quoted on Friday, but was not even close to the Monday's fee. The only good news was that it was less. Rush back to the bank (45 min one way) wait in another line, explain the error, get yet another check while they decide what to do with the last one, back through the afternoon traffic while my stomach reminds me of no lunch, and arrive before the Imm. Off. closed. A Hollywood Movie finish, except that the Cashiers Office closes 1/2 before the rest, it being closed, there was no one to give the money too.

Since it seemed that the last step was to pay, Philip decides he can do that tomorrow on his own while I get back to teaching. Just before lunch (which would have been sausage and nshima) the driver hands me a note from Philip explaining that they took the check, but my face must be there for the final stamping of my pass port. Rush out, get to the office to find that I have just made it for their afternoon break. Finally get in and find a desk with no line. I am offerred a seat while the man at the desk goes through a tall stack of papers. After he complete about five, he kindly lets me know that this will be the last, before he gets to me. A short story later and he stamps my pass port. "When do I return?" I ask. Next month. I can hardly wait.

New Generator

A new large, heavy (2 tons) generator arrived yesterday. It is automatic, turns on at power outages and off when electricity returns. It is powerful enough to run our stoves, hot water heaters, etc. But,( there is alway a but) it needs to be moved to a yet to be poured concrete pad and then hooked up to our system. When? who knows.

Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam