Today we went to French School. Down a little dirt path there’s something for cows to live in – a house. When we went into the classroom the children were eating snacks.The teacher gave me a chair and a book. I liked it. I want to go back.
CATHERINE’S EDITION:
I have not noticed any houses for cows anywhere, but other than that Will’s post is quite accurate. The first school we went to was English speaking, but won’t accept children until they turn three. The French speaking International School was set up by colonialists long ago, and has a French-born headmistress who has been in Rwanda for seven years. Will was pleased to spot swings and a soccer field in the midst of the classrooms, and I was pleased to spot a library.
The teacher of the youngest class (fifteen two-year-olds) speaks to them gently in French. Unlike the headmistress she does not understand English but the notices seem to be written in both languages, thankfully. Otherwise we’d be relying on Google Translator often! William was apprehensive about staying in the class without my presence, but I talked to him about it on our journey home and he quickly decided that he wanted to go to school. Now. I said he had to wait until after breakfast tomorrow, so he promptly asked me to serve him breakfast now. Always the problem solver. When Andrew questioned him about school later, saying, “I think you will cry for your Mum when you are there,” William replied confidently, “The teacher will look after me”. I was quite proud of him.
William excitedly helped me shop for the school stationery he needs; watercolour kids’ paint pallete, coloured pencils, textas, sharpener, grey lead and scissors. We planned his snack food together, and he packed his bag with a permanent smile. He even (I’m most amazed) caught a motorbike taxi home from town with me. He sat squeezed between the driver and myself, his head locked firmly facing the left, with Hannah on my back. Motorbikes are by far the cheapest transport option (300 francs compared to 2000 for a car taxi the same distance– 580 francs is AU$1) but Will’s been too scared before to mount one. It will make taking him to school and home far easier I think because even the four wheel drive seemed to struggle with the dirt roads leading there, while I hope a motorbike will be able to stick to the better parts of the road. We will see. Esperanse (the cleaner) has a brother who drives a motorbike taxi. He will drive us each morning this week; a trial week at school. I wonder what emotional state I will find William in when I pick him up at 12.45 tomorrow afternoon? It’s quite a long day for little ones, beginning at 7.45am. The same length as for the older kids. Picking them up early is discouraged, so if he doesn’t like staying that long he won’t be attending school just yet after all.
One excited little boy is falling asleep beside me in his cot. Yes, cot…and he will wake in it and then head off to school!
(P.S. Anyone else think it would be fun to tour France with a three-year-old as your translator?)
Man, dat je op zo'n motortaxi durft. I agree with the grandparents that a car taxi is a much safer option. De rillingen lopen over m'n rug als ik er aan denk.
ReplyDeleteSpannend, school for Will. Can imagine his answer to Andrew made you proud. He is such a clever boy. Unbelievable. How does it feel for you, the prospect of not having Will with you in the mornings?
Hoop dat jullie visums snel geregeld zullen zijn.
Ben benieuwd naar hoe het verder met jullie gaat. Met William op school, Tim in het ziekenhuis, jij en Hannah thuis en overal en nergens.
Tot de volgende keer!
Zabina