A Little School On A Farm In Africa

INTRODUCTION

All of the incidents described in the various chapters of this book really happened. Most occurred during the time I was running the little farm school, at first alone and then together with my wife, Pat. We lived with the Johnsons on their farm during this time. Two or three of the incidents occurred at farms other than the Johnsons’, and at least two more were separated in time by a year from the period during which I ran the little school. To make the story flow smoothly, though, I thought it advisable to gather them all together in the same time period. People’s names have been changed to avoid any possible embarrassment, but the children and adults mentioned in the various chapters are all real people. Obviously I cannot vouch for the absolute accuracy of dialogue, because at the time of writing, forty to forty-five years had gone by since those conversations occurred.

Although in later years, I ran big city schools, my years at the little farm school in Africa stand out as the all time highlight of my teaching career.

Chapter 1

THE LITTLE SCHOOL

A little building made of tin.

Two rooms were all it had.

Nothing fancy outside or in,

But being there made me glad.

The first time I saw the school, I didn’t really see it, if you know what I mean. I had been told roughly where it was situated, but when a little tin building, almost hidden by the surrounding bush, came into view, I drove right past it without a second glance. After all, I had been a teacher for two years! I knew what schools looked like – brick buildings surrounded by sports fields, and perhaps even a swimming pool and a hall.

I drove on, eager to catch my first glimpse of the school at which I would hold the exalted position of principal. Of course, I would also be the teacher, secretary, caretaker, school bus driver, sports coach, head gardener and school nurse, but none of the other students with whom I had trained could yet call themselves a PRINCIPAL!

Five minutes or so later I came to a road sign that read, ‘Claypits’, which I knew to be the name of the Johnson farm at which I was to board. I should have seen the school several kilometers before arriving at the farm! How could I possibly have missed it?

When I arrived at the farmhouse, I was warmly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Johnson and their three children, Lisa, Ben and Gemma. Before long, my luggage was unpacked, we had enjoyed a cup of tea and the three children had shown me round the house and the farmyard.

Tell me, I asked Lisa, the eldest child, where exactly is the school, and what does it look like?

It’s a little tin building about five minutes from here. You must have passed it on the way. Why don’t we go up to the school now? she suggested. Then we can show you. That sounded like a good idea. We collected the school keys from Mrs. Johnson, and Lisa, Ben and Gemma piled into my aged VW Kombi minibus. As we drove along the farm road, the children pointed out the various farms and told me who lived at each.

Soon the little tin building appeared, and sure enough, Lisa said, We turn in here, Mr. Mac.

The little school and the Kombi. (back view)

The children were as pleased as punch to show me around their school. There was one classroom with seating for twelve children, and alongside it was a small lobby with a hand basin. Outside the lobby was a corrugated iron tank, the only source of water. I couldn’t help but notice that there was no electricity laid on, and very little teaching equipment. The two bookcases contained what seemed to be an uninspiring collection of old books. Although the outside of the building was made of corrugated iron, the inside was wood paneling. It was very different to what I was accustomed, but I liked it. It definitely had character!

Next, the children showed me the playground. It was just an area that had been cleared of bush, except around the perimeter, and the knee-high grass showed no sign of any attempt at mowing. Ben and Gemma, however, proudly told me about the games the children played there. Hide and seek, catch, stingball, tree climbing and marbles seemed to be favorites.

About 20 meters behind the school were two little tin buildings. Each one had a flat wooden seat with a deep hole in the ground under it. The children proudly informed me that they were called ‘long-drop’ loos. (toilets) I’ll leave you to figure out why they were called that. I was later to find that snakes seemed to like these particular toilets, especially the one used by the girls. I never did work out why!

The school grounds were far too small to make a sports field, but I made a mental note of the fact that there was room to make a practice cricket pitch behind the school building, and in front, a mini-tennis court should fit in nicely. The ground was tightly packed clay, and I felt that if I could persuade one of the farmers to bring his tractor, equipped with a scraper blade, we should be able to clear the grass and other growth. This should leave two flat surfaces for games. I was soon to discover that there was nothing the local farmers wouldn’t do for the school!

As it was already late in the day, we locked up and headed back to the farm.

A thought from the bible:

I couldn’t help but see how poorly equipped the school was, compared with the big city school at which I had begun my teaching career two years before. At first I was somewhat taken aback, but then it occurred to me that the absence of expensive equipment and fancy facilities should never be regarded as an excuse for not doing what we know God wants us to do. After all, Paul wrote five of the letters of the new testament from prison! He didn’t have a laptop, a fancy desk, or a comfortable chair to sit on and was, in all probability, chained to a Roman guard. Despite this, in his letter to the Ephesians, Paul says in Chapter 6: 19,20: Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I may fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Paul certainly didn’t make excuses for not doing what he knew God wanted him to do. Neither should I.

Chapter 2

GETTING ACQUAINTED

The weekend provided so much that was new.

My only concern was the bull.

My welcome was warm; the friendship was true.

I enjoyed it all to the full.

The next day was Saturday, and at breakfast with the Johnson family, I announced my intention of going through the cupboards at the school to list the books, stationery and other teaching equipment I would have at my disposal. Immediately the three Johnson children offered to help me. At the school we soon had books and equipment piled up on the desks. The children counted everything and entered the figures on the list I had made. They also helped me to make a list of children in each grade, which wasn’t difficult because there were only twelve in the whole school. With the children’s help, the job was over much more quickly than I had expected, and we returned to the farm in time for tea.

That afternoon I had been invited to join in with the rest of the farming community for tennis practice at the courts across the road from the school. This gave me the opportunity to meet more of my pupils and their parents. What a great group of people! I could already see that I was going to thoroughly enjoy teaching at the little school and living in the farming community.

The courts were made from clay taken from the local ant-heaps, and were in first class condition. The tennis was of a good standard for a small club, but I could see that the chief aim was enjoyment, with the result of each set being of only secondary importance.

The little stone church.

The Sunday morning church service was held in an ancient stone building, situated mid-way between the Johnson’s farm and the school. The church was even smaller than the school, and the upright, rough wooden pews ensured that everyone stayed awake for the whole sermon. The church bell hung outside between two upright tree trunks, and was rung by pulling a rope. When it was almost time for church to begin, the pastor would look up and down the road, and if there was no cloud of dust to indicate that someone was still coming, he would ring the bell and the service would commence.

After Sunday lunch, the children offered to show me the herd of South Devon cows, which were grazing in a nearby field. They were clearly very proud of the light colored animals. When we arrived in the field, I found it easy to praise the cows. They appeared to be really placid animals in excellent condition, with what seemed to be friendly expressions on their faces.

Suddenly I noticed that one of the South Devons, which was standing apart from the others, had no udder. I was born and bred in the city, so the significance of this took a little while to sink in. When it did, I thought it wise to draw the children’s attention to the stocky creature, which seemed to be eyeing me speculatively.

Uh, there seems to be a bull with the cows, and I don’t think he is pleased to see me, I said, without taking my eyes off the animal. A burst of laughter from the three children showed what they thought about my concern.

You needn’t worry about him, giggled Ben. He’s like a big overgrown pussycat! He wouldn’t harm anyone. Another lesson learned. Seemingly all bulls were not the fearsome creatures that inhabited my imagination. To prove the point, Gemma walked across to the bull and scratched between his eyes, at which a blissful expression spread over his face.

When we got back to the farmhouse, I settled down to prepare for the next day. As I thought about lessons for grades one to seven, I realized afresh that I was dealing with a situation far removed from anything I had experienced in my first two years of teaching. Although there was a maximum of three children per grade, lessons had to be prepared, just as though there were thirty or more children in each age group. I realized that the same principle would apply when it came to setting examination papers. As the only teacher, I would have to set papers for all seven grades.

My next