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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504339315 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Balboa Press |
| Publication date: | 10/28/2015 |
| Pages: | 164 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.60(w) x 8.10(h) x 0.90(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Hopeful
A Story of African Childhood Dreams, Struggles, Relentless Courage and Hope
By A. Himbi
Balboa Press
Copyright © 2015 A.HimbiAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5043-3929-2
CHAPTER 1
Hima was a village in Uganda, a small country in east Africa. Cars were rarely seen in this part of the country and only came for one purpose: to buy the cows for beef and a few farm products to take to the towns. Hima was on a large plain surrounded by the foothills of a great mountain range in the southwestern part of Uganda.
The mountains surrounding this village were bare, with no trees on them; the men could see their herds of cattle from afar. They could also see if the cows were straying toward the lowlands where the crops were grown and move fast to go and deter them. In the cold months, the mountaintops were covered with thick fog every morning, and a thick cloud resting on the mountain in the evening was a herald for heavy rain either in the night or the next morning.
Most people were farmers. A person was considered wealthy not by the size of his house or the clothes on his back but by the size of his herd of cattle.
"We should finish our work so fast today," Maanzi told Zuri.
"Why? Do you have somewhere to go, or is one of your cows giving birth today?" Zuri replied innocently.
"No, today there is a meeting at the church grounds, and I hear some important people are coming there. There will be many cars, well dressed people and all. We should go and see them," Maanzi replied with an enthusiasm in his voice that left Zuri wondering what was exciting her friend.
"Let's figure out a plan; you know our mothers won't let us go," Zuri advised him. They all agreed that it was time to go and fetch some firewood from the bushes.
"We are going to fetch firewood. Bye!" Maanzi announced to his mom hurriedly, running so fast lest she notice that there was already enough firewood for the day. After gathering a sizable bundle of dry pieces of wood for each, the two children headed for the church grounds at a fast speed. They had heard the sound of a few cars drive by the small roads while they were deep in the woods, collecting firewood.
At the meeting, all adults huddled together under a big tree, listening to a well-dressed man. He was the representative of the new government that had just come into power. The children were told to be silent, and if anyone so much as coughed, they were met with stern glares, yet not a word of admonition. On this day, silence was of utmost importance, as something big was to be announced. The rebel army had been advancing and had taken over the capital. The ousted dictator had supposedly f led to a neighboring country, and the new former rebel leader was announcing his agenda. He had a lot to say.
This government official, in very calming and eloquent manner, started to address the people. The adults knew this man; he had been opposing the previous government and had left home to join the rebel group to fight, and for a while, most in this village thought he had been killed in battle, given that he had never returned home, not even once.
He told the crowd that although the new government had come to power by a coup d'état, it was necessary. However, he pledged that the plan was to transition the country into a democracy as soon as possible, beginning with allowing people in the communities to elect their own representatives. He promised to improve social services, such as health care and housing that had been destroyed by the war. However, he stressed that even more urgent was the creation of a literate population. Education, he said, would lead to an improved standard of living for the whole population. But even more importantly, he said, "education is of utmost importance so that everyday people can challenge the country's leadership and make the person in power accountable."
While other children were smitten by the army cars that these officials had come in, Zuri and Maanzi climbed the trees to catch a glimpse of the man who was talking, his voice confident, authoritative, and powerful, like nothing that they had ever heard.
His words were moving and full of hope.
"Is that the new president?" Zuri asked.
"Yes, he is," answered Maanzi.
We could be like that man one day, if what he says is true — that we all shall go to school, Maanzi thought to himself, a little confused that he could think of a different life than the one he was having, than the one his parents, uncles, and grandparents had known: looking after cows, no education, no opportunities.
The gentleman continued, "education is the only way to ensure that history will not repeat itself. You parents will be required to send your children to school. The girls will have the same opportunity to receive the same education as the boys, because our population could not become independent when half of it cannot tell how much sugar costs."
Maanzi was so much pleased with what the gentleman was saying; he turned excitedly to Zuri and said, "Did you hear that? even girls will be allowed to go to school with boys."
"So? What does that have to do with me?" asked Zuri.
"Silly! It means that you and I will go to the same school, get the same education, and one day, we could be here working for the government and driving those cars," Maanzi replied.
Maanzi and Zuri's fathers (Francis and Jackson) were among the crowd that had gathered for this meeting. This was one of several meetings that had been held that week throughout the country by government representatives. The president himself did give a similar speech to the nation over the radio, but this was heard by the few people in the country who could afford one. The speeches made by these government representatives across the country were met with great applause. The people were hopeful; you could hear the joy as the villagers walked past the farms.
"Dad, do you think the well-dressed gentleman was serious about sending all the children, boys and girls, to school?" Maanzi asked.
It was in the middle of the day, the sun was scorching hot, and they were driving their herd of cows to the stream.
"Sure, why not?" Francis replied his son, but he seemed to be preoccupied with something on his mind that day. Maanzi was unaware that his father was looking at him keenly, as he spoke on and on about the gentleman who spoke with authority and power.
"Do you know the gentleman who was speaking, Dad? If I can go to school, I will grow up to be like him. He spoke like a god; you know, I thought he was the president, but then I heard you and Uncle Jackson saying that he was just a representative of the government."
Maanzi could not hide the curiosity, excitement, and hopefulness that this speech sparked in him.
His father answered, "I know the gentleman who was giving the speech."
"Really?" Maanzi replied, curious. "Who is he?"
Francis replied, "His name is Jimmy. He comes from the neighboring village. Your uncle Jackson and I were friends with him growing up, looking after cows together in the bush every day. And one day ..." There was a slight pause in his speech, as if he was avoiding the next words, or as if he was in deep thought.
"And ... one day, what happened?" Maanzi asked.
Francis continued, "His father was the county chief, so he sent him off to school in the city. He studied and became a teacher, taught for a while in the city, and married a nurse. They simply lived over there. He returned and took his parents to live with him. We heard that he had joined the rebels fighting for a better government."
"Dad, are you sad?" asked Maanzi.
"No, son. It was good to see him after such a long time. And yes, what he was saying is true. Education will change our country; see what he has become? I barely recognized him. We grew up with him, ate raw mangoes in the bush together, and we talked about going to school a lot. He was lucky to get schooling while we did not. But now that the new government is talking about allowing every child to go to school for free, I think things will be different. If the new president has men like Jimmy, he has good men.
"Life will sure be better for our children than it was for us," Francis concluded.
But one could also hear the occasional skeptic say, "How can you believe the words of a politician?"
However, even the strongest skeptic was silenced when one year later, for the first time in Hima, a kindergarten school was opened. The president had kept his word.
CHAPTER 2Zuri and Maanzi were the first children of Jackson and Francis. Growing up in the same homestead, playing together all day long, going to fetch water and firewood, and doing similar chores in each of their homes gave them a sense of comradeship. They were friends.
They shared the burden of helping their mothers with their younger siblings and suffered the same degree of discipline if they did not perform according to the homestead rules. Their houses were about fifty feet from one another. There were several other houses in the neighborhood; they belonged to their grandfather and the other uncles. It was customary for young men to build their own small mud and wattle houses around their parents' home, when they became adolescents. This prepared them for marriage, which usually took place soon, because they were expected to follow this route to maintain the tribe growing.
The houses were arranged in a row. They all faced east and had one common compound that served as a large playground for all the children in the homestead. Behind each house was a vegetable garden for that household. Here the mothers grew food that would feed their families.
The houses basically had the same structure: a grass roof with walls made of mud and wattle, and floors made from firmly pressed dirt. Still, their mothers raised a lot of dust when they swept the floors.
A little farther off, about two miles away at the foothills of the mountain, was the expanse of land where Maanzi's and Zuri's fathers had each inherited an acre from their father. On this property, each brother kept a few cattle or cultivated plantain that would be sold for cash. This property had been the cause of many quarrels between the brothers, as each accused the other of moving the boundary stone when the others were not looking.
Zuri was the eldest of seven children, three girls and four boys. She had been named by the traditional Swahili midwife because of the way she had come — after fourteen hours of labor. Her mother had lost a lot of blood, and she and the baby were in danger. eventually, though, Zuri was born early in the morning. "Beautiful child, this one," the midwife had said.
There was something special about Zuri; although she had brown eyes and kinky black hair, like any other child in Hima, she had a beautiful dark-chocolate complexion. The midwife, who had learned her art in the neighboring country of Tanzania and was fluent in Swahili, insisted that she be named Zuri, which means "beautiful," and that had stuck — a very rare name in a community where the people did not speak Swahili at all.
Maanzi was the eldest of nine children. His mother named him "brave one"; he had survived so many childhood illnesses and seemed to have a resilient trait, despite such adversity, even at a young age.
Maanzi and Zuri spent much of their waking hours together. By the standards of their community, their families were considered poor, but Maanzi and Zuri did not know any better, even though they wore tattered clothes and went barefoot. On a typical day in the village, they played together in the sand, helped take care of their younger siblings, and visited with the other children in the neighborhood. After they walked miles under the scorching sun to get water from the well, they raced each other, laughing all the way back, while carrying their small pails, spilling half the water (to the dismay of their mothers).
CHAPTER 3In 1983, there was a meeting to elect new leaders.
"I propose that Jackson be our local council," a member of the congregation suggested.
"No, sir," replied the modulator, who had been brought in from the next village to help conduct the election process in a democratic way.
"Why not?" the person asked. "We'd like him to lead us."
"Because this government wants to promote education and literacy, and Mr. Jackson does not know how to write."
Jackson and his brother Francis were seated next to each other. Jackson, a hot-tempered man who liked to fight for respect and dignity, could not take this insult, so he stood up and left, without saying a word. The meeting ended without electing anyone, which frustrated the village folks.
Jackson came to Francis's house that evening, still angry. His brother's family were all seated on the ground except the head of the house, who sat on a round wooden stool, eating from the same flat plate.
"Would you like to eat with us?" Francis asked.
"No, thank you, we just finished eating at my house," replied Jackson. "So who did that educated man choose to be our chairperson?" he asked, with anger still in his voice. "The meeting ended without us agreeing on someone," Francis replied. "We will have to look around for a person who can help us develop."
"This new government is no different from the past one," Jackson complained. "All they care about is themselves. They say it will be democracy, and yet they are telling us who should be leading us, who not to elect, and calling us uneducated."
"Well, I guess now we know that the future is in education. Did you see how Jimmy turned out?" Francis asked calmly.
"Have a good night then," Jackson said as he left his brother's house.
The village finally chose a leader and a committee of elders who would lead and guide them. Jackson was selected to the committee, which pleased him so much, but Francis was not.
"Now this government knows that we have sense in what we say and influence in this community," Jackson was heard telling a neighbor after being allowed on the committee.
Each village now had a committee that would address the local problems of the community, and if these were too great, they would be resolved at the district level.
The newly formed village committee was tasked with improving education. This was crucial, as most of the committee members had young children of their own. Prior to this, the children had to wait until they were old enough to walk the four miles to the nearest school. This resulted in children starting school when they were much older or not at all for most of the girls. By then it was too late because they would be adolescents and plans to marry them off would have begun.
Mr. Ntare was an elderly gentleman who had worked for the previous chief 's household. He had been involved in looking after Jimmy's father's household and knew something about the benefits of education. He had watched the chief hire teachers from the city to come and coach his children. While he had basic education himself, he had good insight and was respected as an advocate for child education. His grandchildren were among the few children in the village who were going to a primary school. He was sent by the committee to approach Miss Nkwanzi about the possibility of teaching.
Miss Nkwanzi was slender; her hair fell to her shoulders when combed out, but she preferred to keep it in locks so it was easily managed. She only had formal training up to Primary Four, but still this was rare for a woman in this community. One of her older brothers had refused to go to school without her, complaining that she had all the fun because she stayed home and didn't have to be disciplined by teachers. He wouldn't go to school if she didn't as well. Her father relented and let her go to school, but by the time she reached Primary Four, her mother had other children and needed her help, so her schooling ended abruptly.
The news of the start of kindergarten school was made at church following the service. Later, Mr. Ntare and his committee secretary, Mr. Muntu, went door to door. All children, regardless of their age and gender, were encouraged to attend the new school as long as they could walk there and back. There would be no classroom, desks, or chairs in this school. The students were to sit in the verandah at the entrance of the church. There would be a small fee to cover the little writing boards the students would use. Miss Nkwanzi would bring a large blackboard with her each morning.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Hopeful by A. Himbi. Copyright © 2015 A.Himbi. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
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