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startled faces. But still we were intrigued by this new concept and
loved to learn something new to share with family. I loved the
teacher, and it seemed everyone else did too. The class looked up to
our teacher with such gratitude and thankfulness it inspired me to
become a teacher when I was older. And I would build a school.
When school finished, I waved my friends good bye and went to
fetch some water. Oh I might add, with a full belly. School always
replenished us with a meal, which is the main reason ma sends me. I
walked along a track, to where the river was. The bucket I carried
was small and plastic but was enough to fit a reasonable amount of
water. After much walking I arrived at the partially dry river. The
river was large but only water holes remained. I lowered the bucket
under the murky water and filled it close to the top. The load was
quite heavy, but by putting it on my head it was lighter. Sometimes if
I’m clumsy I would get soaked but I would dry in this weather so
that wasn’t a problem. The trip back was going to be tiring, but it
gave me some reflection time. I could think about friends or school
or family. Really anything that took my interest. I usually pictured
myself leaving the village for high school and how I would cope with
it. I could see my father picking at some rock at the mine. But that
wasn’t what I wanted to do. I wanted to become a teacher and teach
the people in my village. That would be nice, I would do that. For
me. For my family. For the village.
The next day the rooster sirens were competing with the sound of
heavy rain. My school had finally come to a term break as rain had
broken the drought. School was out. I hurried to the middle of the
hut; ‘Ma, why can’t we go to school on rainy days?’ She chuckled
softly and answered, ‘Don’t be silly dear, the school doesn’t have any
roof or walls. The dirt would be turned to mud by now.’ I sighed, the
school will be a proper building I hoped. One day. And I would help
it to be.
‘
A Seasonal
School
9