Isaac is a 10 years old embarrassed boy. Despite being the smallest individual of the orphan, there is a great man’s trace on his face. He does not speak English because he does not go to school and he politely says “yes” when he does not understand everything I say. Education in Uganda is paid, so many families cannot send their children to the school. The mother also speaks with a very low voice, embarrassed and always smiling. I ask Isaac’s mother where his father is. She says, “He’s dead.” It is often said that the father is dead, but the truth is that most men leave the woman after they have children.

Isaac is helping a lot of jobs including water transport because he is at home. He’s washing his own clothes, hanging, collecting. Like all the other kids in this continent, he is run for every homework. Nevertheless, children are more fortunate than street children, road-building children, stone-breaking children, construction-working children, briquette-making children, and millions of water-carrying children. There is a large family, mother, a single bed shared with his mother, a curtain separating his bed (not a room, just one bed) from other beds, a fountain at the yard, food. It’s just a few pieces hanging in the nails on the whole garment wall. Mother tries to peel and boil sweet potatoes three times a day, boiling dry beans, crushing both of them and preparing a dense mush. This is the main food source of the house, and one of the banana. Mother also cuts pages from old notebooks and makes pouch paper. The people who cook the chapati are buying it.

The person who needs immediate attention and training here is Isaac. As soon as I leave my suitcase on the day I arrive, I go to a shop and buy lots of papers to hang pencils, picture books, notebooks and cards. The owner lady of the shop presents the card to class. We make a dining room on the entrance become a class with Slyvia for Isaac, the wall became a reading board. Isac knows the numbers and the alphabet, but he can not read, he does not know the words, he can not match the pictures. He does not know where to start. I’m in the same situation with him now, and I do not know where to start. At the age of eight, two twin boys and two little girls come to the rescue as they sweep their arms and immediately go back to the alphabet and number. The twins were able to go to the school for a short time. The girls are 6 to 7 years old and still suck their fingers, they are always staring at their heads. Except for occasional impulses, they are very quiet. I hug and kiss them right now, but these kids are not as relaxed and enthusiastic as the schoolchildren on Rusinga Island. There are photographs of a classical African child, the viewfinder tracks them from above, they raise their heads and look at them with their huge innocent eyes. These kids are those kids… I’m putting a chair and a cushion on them for new students. They have not improved, their bodies are too small. Even in the first hour, there was a class of 5 students. The next day the number gets even bigger, the families who heard the class started to send their children. I make the small kids sit on the table because there’s no place left. Each one is at different ages and no one knows how to read. I do not even know how to teach. Moreover, children do not speak English because they do not go to school. Our only common language is kiss and smile.

All the kids come in the morning and leave their books at the table. Until the teacher wakes up, they play earthen ground in front of the house. These voices I hear every morning remind me of where I am and what I am for. I was not a teacher like that teacher so I never even got to the top of their “teacher” call. That’s the “teacher” I am!

The girls who sucked their fingers wrapped their books in their handkerchiefs. Sometimes they spread their handkerchiefs over the table, sometimes they sit on the spout, sometimes they suck. The bigger girl always draws the same shape while I hold her hand of the bigger one and write the letters many times. The same for A, the same for C, the same strange shape for all letters and numbers… I remember a movie. In the film, the child always painted the same shapes on the walls, on the ground, on the table, on the paper. Everyone thought that the child had difficulty learning or was crazy. At the end of the film, we understand that the aliens have taught this to the children, and in fact these are the codes that will save the world.

The first day I wrote the words into the books, read them over and over again and gave them homework. They all do homework. I fill in all the gaps on the page. It is not written every word by skipping two lines. Pencils can not be sharped every two minutes. We need to be thrifty.

Isaac is very willing and happy. As soon as his duties in the house finish, he does his homework and has me checked in the evening. One of the twins whom I could not pronounce their names took off reading the third day, officially reading sentences. Isac and the other of the twins began to read one by one on the fourth day. Well done my smart cuties. I think we’re doing well!

There is also Francis who I m his fan. 2,5 years old, big head, meaty lips, big almond eyes, pointy-nosed son, a child is laughing so much. He is doing daytime jokes to be able to entertain himself and others around him. As I repeat the numbers and letters on the wall, he climbs on me and he repeats together with us.

When it comes time to go on the road, I tell the children I have to go one day before. Slyvia is translating. Isac’s eyes are fogging, spreading all over his face. These children do not fall, their faces are shaded. These kids do not look sad, these kids are sad. These kids are not looking angrily, these kids are accepting.

The next morning I say we do not have to lecture, I have to go out early. But they still bring their notebooks, they are expecting me to shave their pens. We are summarizing almost all lessons. I give homework for a very long time so that they continue to write at least a few more days. I ask young people to attend classes at weekends and even hours as another volunteer.

The kids do not give up on touching me as much as I can hold the mototaxi. I will never forget the looks of my back. But when I disappeared, “Yuppiii! The teacher is gone, no lessons anymore.” I will not know if they have fun!

Isaac and the other children are waiting for volunteers for their training. Something started, a goodness. Together we built the sweetest class in the world. This goodness must continue. Interested people can contact Steven on this phone: 00256 705 790834

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