As I wrote in earlier posts, English teachers often come running after me to practice their English. One teacher ran after me as I was passing the quarry and explained to me the difference between stone, concrete and mud. And no, I did not really know the difference before this conversation. He said that there were more houses being built out of stone, though of course mud was still what most people used. It is quite amazing that these mud houses stay up for so long – the framework is made out of twigs and the bricks are very muddy-looking. I really am impressed that they seem to stay up.
This particular quarry, located on the plain between the mountains next to Ntunga, which is about 9 kilometers from Agahozo-Shalom, is the source for a lot, if not all of, the stone that Agahozo-Shalom uses to build its houses. Builders get paid around 1,500 RWF a day (around $2.85) while masons get paid around 2,000 (or perhaps 2,500 FRW or around $3.25) a day. Florentine, a girl I met on a walk who used to work at Agahozo-Shalom – the girl who could not afford secondary school fees – is learning how to be a mason so she can make the higher salary. I looked at her notebooks with careful drawings of blocks stacked on top of each other. The notebook she received is the nice kind - hard-backed, thicker paper and much larger sheets. Clearly, these are notes meant to be kept forever, considering the quality of the notebook compared to any I see in the secondary schools. While the drawings are nice, and the notebook sturdy, it is a shame that she cannot just attend secondary school during this time, as her English is pretty good. She is a concrete (no pun intended) example of how professional training in masonry may not be as cost-effective as a secondary or even university education that can improve her English even more and allow her to teach English in primary and secondary schools.
In the debate today, some students argued that women's empowerment was not particularly affective because when women moved to cities they did not have "the capacity" for many jobs, particularly jobs involving physical strength. Perhaps more female masons can't hurt for changing the view of women's "capacities." There are around two women for every eight men working in building at Agahozo-Shalom, and I don't know how many of them are masons.
The same teacher who ran after me and explained to me about the quarry also asked if I could pay for his university fees. I said I did not have any money to spare at that point, but that surely he could save up? I hoped he would mention his salary so I could get an idea of how viable this was. Or perhaps taking out a loan was possible? I also hope to find out what, exactly, the process is for the private loans which seem to be the only options at this point.
Another teacher who ran after me – well, she just told me “wait for me!” – told me that Rubona was planning on having a secondary school where students did not have to pay fees, but then she said that this would be the case because all secondary schools in Rwanda would eventually be free. So it did not seem like there were any immediate plans for the near future. This particular teacher taught English – English obtained from a few months of intensive English course, as is the case for many English teachers. She used to teach French, but when the national language changed, she needed to learn English. I walked with her until we reached her house, which seemed like a pretty respectable house with a big terrace, though many houses have terraces in front of them. By “terrace” I mean a sort of very large mud lot before the house that is constantly swept to get rid of the rocks and dust to make it the smoothest, cleanest bit of mud I have ever seen. In a debate about women’s rights, one of the girls said it was good that girls could go to school and were not forced to stay home and “cook, clean and sweep.” Because sweeping does seem to be a basic, central task. I have to say – I love it when a terrace overlaps with the road and I can walk on the smooth swept bit, and not the rocky bit with painful stones that can dig into your foot if you have thin soles.
English teachers in the area don’t speak English so well. The biggest problem is not having people to practice English with. The recent government policy to discontinue scholarships and loans for higher education was to invest more in primary education. I truly hope that the new funds will be used to provide books and language teachers to classrooms. I hope it does not mean that very good English students will not be able to afford university fees. I still don’t quite understand where the funds for secondary school will come from, if secondary school is to be free, eventually.
The secondary school in Rubona – I am not sure it goes past the equivalent of middle school – did not have enough English teachers to start the school year because a new regulation would require that English teachers have a university education. At least, that is what we were told. The combination of regulations that require university degrees for teachers of secondary school combined with reallocating money from university fee loans into the primary school and eventually secondary school systems seems like a slight tension between policies – unless it is possible to get a high enough salary as a primary school teacher to eventually save up, study in university, and then teach secondary school.
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I was sketching a potential dress for my sister’s wedding at my favorite milk shop a few weeks ago. This particular milk shop now seems to no longer have a refrigerator, which is sad. They still sell mandazis (donuts) so that’s good. I don’t quite know if they are going to attempt to stay open without the refrigerator and just get by selling chapattis, amandazis and the occasional egg. Anyway, three children, including one very yappy outgoing little eight-year-old girl, sat down next to me to watch. The girl was pointing out the different parts of the dress and telling me the words in Kinyarwanda. She was also pointing to my own clothes when the dress I was drawing did not have some part of clothing. After saying the words in Kinyarwanda, I would say the words in English, and she and the other two children copied, verbally, what I told them. So we all learned how to say “sleeve” and “shirt” and “belt” in our respective non-native languages. Then, in a daring feet for an eight year old, she pointed to my red bra strap, which was showing, and then burst out in uncontrollable giggles, along with the other two children. I said, “bra” with as strait a face as I could muster. I asked how to say it in Kinyarwanda, and they told me something with an “s” I think – I can’t remember.
A bit about modesty: Before I came to Rwanda I read somewhere that women in Rwanda dress very modestly because they are very religious. But, at the end of the day, with the absurdly boiling heat painfully glaring from directly above this country very close to the equator, and with outdoor manual labor a major source of income – whether it be in building or agriculture – people do wear tank-tops (“gasp!”).
The Rwandan equivalent of a bathrobe – and this might be the case in other countries – is taking a magnificent, brightly colored piece of cloth and wrapping it around the way you would wrap a towel around yourself, except the cloth goes down to the ground. It looks like a beautiful evening gown to me, and people laugh when I tell them this. Women would never wear this walking down the road, but they do wear it on their patios or while standing in the doorways, leaning against the door frame as if they are posing for Vogue. I suppose this is like women wearing their bathrobes on the porch. When doing manual labor, they usually wear a tank-top or t-shirt with a skirt.
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On an unrelated note, and to make sure the last C-starting word in the title is relevant: There are many newly-born baby goats everywhere, chomping away at the grass, and they are so cute. They become less cute as they get older – their eyes sort of drift apart into opposite directions to make them look sort of dumb. But as babies they look fiercely smart, together, and adorable.
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