The Primary 6 class 'revising'. |
The sun is relentless
this afternoon. After a typically rainy season morning of mist and showers, the
clouds have parted and I can feel my skin beginning to cook under Uganda’s wide
blue skies.
It is Wednesday 13th April and I have delegated
my group leader responsibilities for a few hours, in order for me to go about following up on
something I promised I would last year, namely visiting the Taufiq Islamic
Primary School.
When I visited last year, my immediate reaction was use a
selection of adjectives, all with negative connotations. This wasn’t as a
reflection of the school as an organisation, or of the small, but hard-working, Muslim
community who look after it, but more focused on the cramped conditions that
the boarding students had to live in.
So it was, that after a short lunchtime meeting with the
father of a student from Kigezi High School, I followed the path down to
Taufiq: past the ladies selling bananas, weaving my way through the hive of
activity that is the taxi rank, through the clattering of men working on bits
of metal. There I met with Teacher Bright.
After signing the guest book and chatting about whether much
had changed in the year since my last visit, he started to take me on a tour of
the inner courtyard of the main building. Needless to say, it wasn’t long
before a Primary 6 class, who were meant to be revising for a test, saw me and
began to look excitedly at their mzungu visitor.
I asked the teacher whether this small class was always this
excitable. He replied, “not really. Most visitors to the school aren’t here to
see the children.” I asked whether I could meet them and he obliged.
The pupils took it in turns to ask questions and either
giggled or gasped in response to any answers I gave them. At first the
questions were about England: “Do you really have a Queen?” and “Does it really
rain all the time?” The questions moved on to “do you have Muslims in the UK?”
I then informed them that in London, where I teach, most of my students are
Muslim. This surprised them, but also brought smiles to their faces.
At this point a phone call came through to teacher Bright.
There were reports coming through that a mzungu
was visiting the school and the Sheikh hadn’t been informed. I took this as an
indication to leave, albeit feeling somewhat disappointed, and I made my way back
to the road.
Later that night, Yasim, the KHS bus driver and a member of
Kabale’s Muslim community saw me walking home, still in a melancholy mood and
called me over. He had heard about the mix up at the school and was able to
inform the Sheikh that I was good man, a friend of Islam and someone without ulterior
motives.
I was left waiting on a phone call to see if I would get a
formal invite back to the school later in the week.