On tuesday I go to school

   Today’s story starts with our meeting Jonathan during one of our boat outings in Kunta Kinteh. We chatted a while, then the following morning, I saw him again on the beach with his mother Joan. One thing leads to another and she explains that she’s at her 13^th stay and that she collects funds in England to give to Methodist schools. This year, they’re building a class in Brikama. Fascinating!

   An idea quickly forms in my head, the idea that ‘here is an entry into a school’. After having met the bishop, followed by his replacement as he was on his way out, I was put into contact with Ruth.

   Ruth, who is Northern Irish, is a headmistress on standby who had been there for 3 years to work in local Methodist schools. We visited the ones in Banjul so that I could make my mind up about which to go to. We went to a governmental lower basic school, two private schools (4-6 years and 7/14 years) then two nurseries. The first will be the “right one,” not the best because there isn’t any best or worst one, but it’s a government school that has a high number of students per class. That’s where I decided that I wanted to lend a hand once a week.

  

   Albion Lower Basic School is a government school located 15 minutes walking distance from the hotel, in a road exiting onto 22^nd July Square in Banjul. 669 children attend 15 classes there… have you worked it out? It’s an average of 45 students per class, which is the maximum number as per governmental aims… and most probably the minimum for this type of school. 

   The two ‘grade one’ classes each have 46 students and the two ‘grade two’ each have 61. That means that in the older classes, there are usually only 30 to 35 students.

   School is compulsory, but poverty hampers parents’ efforts as some cannot afford the uniform and therefore don’t send their children. You will always see children in the streets during classtime. Each term in government schools costs 5 Dalasi (€6/£5/£6.50, the price of a small bread loaf) and the state, in theory, furnishes books, workbooks and pencils. This school is administered by the Methodist diocese which means that the government expects them to collect private funds. However, they don’t necessarily have as many books as there are children in the class. Thankfully, there are some benefactors, be they holiday makers who make a donation, people in countries (U.K.) who then send the goods by container, local companies who contribute with book photocopies or other services.

   I chose to help with a ‘Grade One’ class. The youngest are six and the oldest, eight. Some have been to nursery but for a good few, this is their first experience of school. Eight tribes are represented here, which means eight different languages (as well as “others”), but in the first two years there are “only” Mandingo, Wollof, Pular, Jola and Serere tribeschildren. The Sarahule, Manjago or Balanta are only in minute numbers in the older classes. Most children speak at least Wollof if not also Mandinka. On that front, the teachers are pros.  

   As for me ? Well, I try for the basic words which amuses them. It’s not enough to learn a word; you also have to know which language it’s from. As I often help in maths where they count, one of the first words I learnt here was “niatala” which means “how much/many?”

   The deprivation in the classes was a great surprise to me. There’s the strict minimum and then again… The kids keep their backpacks because they have nowhere else to put them. Progressively, I try to make them comprehend that the table is there to be worked on and is neither a writing surface, nor a makeshift drum for pencils, nor a bench on which to sit on, nor a place to stow your bag, nor even a place to walk on.

   These kids are cute and I take great pleasure in helping them with their maths or English. The teacher loves it when I pay a visit and I become the scribe on the blackboard as she says that I draw better than she does. Yep, I’m the one who ends up drawing “nak” (cow), “bé” (goat), “mousse” (cat), “pitcher” (bird), ganar (hen), “mam” (donkey), and “hadj” (dog). I remember these words phonetically and try to improve as I don’t understand them necessarily very well on the first try so there may still be some errors.

   For lunch, each child brings D 3 (€0.05/£0.04/$0.06) every day. Those without money should in theory get nothing but of course there’s a strong sense of solidarity and an effort is made to share as much as they can. A rare few arrive with a piece of bread at school that they try to hide in order to eat it in class (albeit with a clumsy stealth). At around 11h30, though more like 11h50, the children go out, clean their hands at the outside tap, and queue up (bottom left) to receive a platter on which will be served rice with vegetable sauce. Then, a small group goes to sit on the ground around the platter to eat (bottom right).

   Class starts again 30 minutes later and finishes at 14h. The teachers stay longer as there are children who have support. All are gone by 16h. From 9h to 12h on a Tuesday, it’s my routine and I’m even invited to return during the week if I want to, as the teacher loves it as well.

   I even had my claim to fame on TripAdvisor as a person who had given provision (pencils, workbooks, felt-tip pens and regular pens) had written down a nice couple of words. Last Thursday again, I brought a couple who was welcomed by a deputy director and the head of teachers who were very happy to receive some school provisions. Now, each class will at least have a pencil sharpener as it’s quite frightening to see 6 year-old kids shaving their pencils with razors!