Tuesday December 5th
As the title says, today was presentation day. The desks were set out in the hall with a
special table and chairs set out for the main speakers, Mr Masui, the
headmaster, Mr Leopod (sic), the Chair of Governors and of course Babu. I was assured by Mr Masui that the whole
ceremony would last about one hour but I don’t think he heard when I suggested
it would last half that if they cut the speeches.
Once again, as at the YMCA opening, the various groups were
introduced and I had to stand and state that I was Mr Stuart. Mr Masui then gave the first of his speeches
followed by the awards to the top pupils for the year. With A=1, B=2 etc points are awarded for each
subject and when these are totalled the students with the top four scores are
awarded prizes. The prizes are text
books chosen from the boxes that the school receives from the USA and, whilst
hopefully relevant, many of them still have the graffiti and names of previous
owners written on the fly sheets.
Hillaly, best student in Year I |
Peter, best student in Form III |
It was now my turn to speak and I had prepared a short
statement in Swahili expressing my pride that possibly in years to come one or
two of them might look back and think that I had had a little effect on their
lives. I started though with my usual “Mimi,
ninaongaya Kiswahili ndogo, ndogo sana.” (I speak Swahili a little, a very
little) and followed this with the barked order, “Simama” whereupon like a troop
of soldiers all the students leapt to their feet. I didn’t check the staff behind me but it
wouldn’t have surprised me if one or two had twitched upwards as well. I then softly said “kaachini” and everyone
resumed their seats laughing at their response, and after I had read my short statement,
the speech was nearly over, which must be a record in Tanzania. I just put my paper down and added a few
sentences I know myself and even got a few laughs.
It was only left for the head table to leave and the
students to queue to get their end of year reports, all stapled together so that
they couldn’t peek (ye, and that works!!).
I left the staff and went round and shook everyone’s hand and then the
students left as the majority would be waiting for daldalas very shortly. To see the students in their normal clothes
having been so used to school uniform was surprising.
Fatuma and Subira ready for home. |
After proceedings had died down a little I asked Mr Mmari if
we could cross the road into Boza village again as I wanted to take some
pictures and Mr Masui, hearing me, said he would like to show me his new house,
so after chapattis again at Mr Masui’s present home we crossed the road to enter
the village and see his future home.
Boza main street |
One of the older Boza homes.......... |
.....and Mr Masui's, that he hopes to have completed by May 2013 |
Even in what looks like a green and verdant land, life depends upon the rainy season, which for some years now has come close to failing completely and certainly has been well below normal levels. On the way back to school Mr Masui pointed out a field, belonging to the school, that until recent years had been packed full of coconut trees, but these had withered and died and only half a dozen hardy specimens remained.
I’m not the one for long goodbyes so having thanked
everybody and shaken hands all-round I turned the bicycle towards home and for
the last time, certainly in this trip, faced the white knuckle ride down THE
HILL.
Baadaye
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