Nozuko Quvana tackles life as a teacher in a remote rural area
I was employed in May 1996 as a teacher in one of Port St Johns’ Schools. I was very proud and happy to find that I was now employed and my dreams of being a teacher were fulfilled.
On the day of my arrival at the school, I was surprised to find that the taxi dropped me off at least 5km away from the school. I stood there for about 10 minutes contemplating how I was going to manage to carry my suitcase and the groceries I had bought. I looked around and found that there were some rondavels, and I decided to go there for assistance. They told me I could safely leave my luggage there.
They accompanied me across the Mpande River mouth where it enters the sea. There was a lot of water as the tide was high and it was a very windy day. Fortunately we succeeded in crossing the river and they left me to return to their homes. I then walked alone along a small footpath for a distance of about 5km. The following day I asked where the shop was so that I could buy some bread for breakfast. I was told that there was no shop in the area. The nearest shop is a 2km walk.
At the school I discovered that there was a shortage of classrooms and that the ones that were available were in a very bad condition.
I was told that I was to conduct my classes under the trees. I wondered what I was going to do when the weather got bad. After a week at the school, having adapted to the situation, I was faced with an incident.
All my colleagues were attending a workshop, so I was the only teacher. Suddenly I heard all the grade ones shouting from their classroom. On entering the classroom, I found one of the children was crying and his leg was swollen. He had been bitten by a puffadder, which was still moving around the classroom. The snake had come out from under a pile of thatch stacked on the classroom roof. I knew that there was no hospital close by and definitely no transport. While one of the grade six boys proceeded to kill the snake, I tied two handkerchiefs around the leg of the boy affected. I then asked about the nearest clinic. I was told that all sick people were carried by donkeys to the local hospital, approximately 10km away. A runner was sent to find a donkey to transport the child. Fortunately the child recovered and is back at school.
One Saturday a colleague of mine became seriously ill with diarrhoea. We ran to the owner of the donkeys to ask for assistance, only to be told that because we were teachers, we would have to pay R200. We collected the money, paid and accompanied our colleague on donkeys. On the way to the hospital we came across some of our students, who laughed as it was the first time they had seen any of their teachers travelling on donkeys. Again we were fortunate that our colleague was given good treatment, recovered well and was soon back at work.
I have adjusted to the situation and the fact that our area is still so underdeveloped. Despite all this, we are proud of our simple village as we have no crime. Our colleagues from Bisho enjoy our area at weekends when they attend ceremonies like Intonjane, which is practised here.
We have all upgraded our qualifications and have since motivated the community to open a pre-school and an adult basic education and training (ABET) class. Now the ABET class has four teachers for levels one to four. Through the opening of ABET at our school, the community has become proud of us as good role models for their children. All in all, perseverance prevails.
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– The Teacher/M&G Media, Johannesburg, October 2001.