Life is Seldom Dull in Africa...

It's been quite a week. The worst thing is that Matthew, who was my best friend among the teachers at my school, has abruptly resigned and left after a row with the administration. I don't want to point fingers other than to say there is a lot of blame to go around in the conflict. I think it's really unfortunate because Matthew was very dedicated to the kids. He's planning on going back to school in August, so I wish him the best and hope it works out.

In a kind of bittersweet moment I witnessed very pointedly one of the big differences between African and American life. One of my students was gone for a few days this week. Kids can't really get away with skipping class at a boarding school like this, so you always notice when their gone. She left because her younger sister died. The first thing you notice here is that no one thinks it unusual that a 15-year-old girl would lose her little sister. Just because it's not uncommon doesn't mean they are jaded to such losses though. Far from it. In fact, when the girl arrived back at the school on Thursday, word quickly made it to her class that she was back and about 50 girls ran out of the class and surrounded her with choruses of "pole" and "karibu," meaning we're sorry for your loss and welcome back. It was such a huge outpouring of sympathy and genuine joy to have their friend back with them. So this girl for the next half hour was in the middle of this mob of other girls in a situation that I think most Americans would find unbearable, but she was obviously greatly comforted and moved by the whole thing. Life here is such a constant mixture of joy and sadness. No wonder my first year in this country was constant emotional turmoil.

Another event this week was I attended the A-level graduation at Kifungilo Secondary School, another Catholic girls' school in the area that is one of the top 20 schools in the country. Another teacher and I walked there. By road, this journey would have been more than 25 miles, but we went over one hill, across a valley, then straight up a huge and ridiculously steep mountain, on the top of which was the school. The walk was no more than three miles but took about two hours. This was a steep mountain. The school sat atop the mountain and had amazing views. I was amazed that we had just pushed straight up it. Fortunately we managed to get a lift by road much of the way back because I think the slope would have been fairly dangerous going down. It was also nice to see this really great school that was beautifully built. It almost looked like a German hamlet complete with stone-paved streets. My goal if to outperform Kifungilo in this year's exams. Right now they're number 2 in the region and we're number 3. Unfortunately we have a way to go, but I have confidence in my girls.

I'm sorry, but after more than a half hour of trying, it seems this internet connection is too slow to upload pictures.

Fashion note: my Form 2s, who now seem to see themselves as my little sisters trying to help a hopeless older brother, tell me that they love my hair but my beard has to go. Not to worry, I won't let my students ruin my dashing hippie Peace Corps volunteer good looks. The beard stays.