Dreaming of dreams fulfilled

Lying beneath the Acacia, dreaming of dreams of fulfilled
A call, a feeling, an unwelcome desire to reach a place beyond my home
I chose to turn and chase a path that would pave the way to worldy dreams
But that was not my path and despite the deviations
I was lead back to where I belong.

I wanted to live a 'normal life' -
To have job security, a home, a family - and everything else that comes with human dreams
But I came to realise that my joy was to be found elsewhere
Not in the known nor five year life plans or in one place alone
But to live according to the certainty of the unknown.

An unknown not so unknown - at least not to Him.
He never promised safety
Nor did He say it'd be easy
'Look up and follow' was all I heard
Blinded by His light yet guided by it all the same.

My moto journey from Cyahinda to Butare takes me on a 40 minutes ride, skirting around the edges of mountains/hills and looking down into lush green valleys - all on dirt roads.  From there, I hit the asphalt paved roads for another 45 minutes before reaching the 'big-not-so-big' city of Huye/Butare.  At one point during a recent journey, I heard the usual, 'muzungu' cry and looking up from the valley I caught sight of 2 little boys waving frantically at me and trying to run alongside the moto.  They were running rather precariously through branches and an unmarked path along the side of the hill and as I waved back, huge grins filled their faces and they turned to each other and laughed.  I half expected them to high-five each other - but this is not the US/UK.  A simple sight of a simple joy.

I savoured the moment when the moto driver turned off the engine and we rolled down and around the mountain path, allowing me to soak in the peaceful scenery with only the sound of the muffled wind and the wheels rushing past my helmet-hidden ears.  I continued looking down because the valleys just seemed so perfectly carved and formed and in those moments where I dared to look up, I saw cloudless skies and small settlements dotted around the mountain tops.  How these houses are reached is anybodies guess because there are no marked roads that go up that far - only what seems like extremely steep well trodden paths that line and weave up the sides of the mountains.

I was reminded of a remark that a colleague made to me once on a walk - mentioned in one of my posts from last year when I first arrived in Cyahinda - 'When I climb/walk uphill, I think of the hardships we face in life but then when we walk downhill, I am reminded of the good things and the ease of life.'  Something along those lines - I want to add that when you reach the top after all those trials and hardships, the view from the top will take your breath away.  Looking back (in hindsight), you'll see the path you trod and be amazed at how you ever defeated the rocks and trees that lay across your path.  Sometimes we spend so much of our time looking down, trying to place our feet carefully on what would appear to be solid ground that we miss the beauty of what lies above - the graceful glide of a Kite, the rhino-shaped cloud, the children running excitedly to try to greet you, the mysterious house perched alone on the edge of the hillside, the calling to simply trust.

It's been raining pretty heavily here, but then again, it is the 'rainy season!'  I've been wearing my wellies to school as the road that leads up to it is always potted with numerous puddles and squelchy mud.  Looking down is a futile exercise because you can never tell if you're going to sink or slide no matter where you place your foot.  And so, I'm reminded to look up.  I cannot always prevent myself from slipping or falling - I'd rather have enjoyed the view and slipped than been so cautious that I fell anyway and missed what was around me.

Today I want to be thankful for the sights I've seen, the people I've met and the experiences I've had that have lead me here.  It took me 13 years of looking up (although I'm sure more often down,) to be able to dream of dreams fulfilled.

Oya, non, no

It's roughly 20 years on from English becoming an official language in Rwanda alongside French and Kinyarwanda and 6 years on from it becoming the language of instructions within schools, so upon request (thank you Ollie Knight), I'm writing this post.

The Guardian has written a couple of informative articles outlining the reasons behind the shift should you wish to find out more about it:

Why Rwanda said adieu to French (January 2009)

Rwanda to switch from French to English in schools (October 2008)

and a further discussion on the impact from a research site:

The costs and consequences of Rwanda's shift in language policy

But here's my take on it all from my experience within TTC Cyahinda, a training college for future primary school teachers.

(That's the moon and not the sun...just love the way the sky is split)

Set in the grounds of a remote Catholic village in Nyaruguru district, TTC Cyahinda is home to over 800 secondary and sixth form students and nearly 30 tutors.  English is supposed to be the medium of instruction for all subjects (other than for the modern languages taught of French and Swahili.)  Whilst I am fortunate that MOST of the tutors speak English, there are still a minority who haven't a clue what I am saying to them besides the usual greeting of 'goodmorning, how are you?'  Even tutors who consider themselves to be fluent in English do not always understand me - but I do not blame them.  Most, if not all were Primary and Secondary educated in French and some also for their university degree, the switch to English meant intensive studying of a language as foreign to them as French or Japanese is to me.

I studied French at GCSE level (17 years ago!) - and not having spent any significant time in France (just in transit through the airports), I would have to say that my French is probably on par with most people's English here - and trust me, beyond teaching primary school French, I am unable to sustain any form of normal conversation with a French speaker.  The same, I would say, is true of my Japanese.  Having lived in Japan for a year (10 years ago!), my Japanese barely reaches beyond ordering food at a restaurant and asking what something is, (all very important of course.)

Asking me to TEACH in either French or Japanese would be preposterous.  I do not have the vocabulary nor the correct grammatical and technical knowledge to be able to translate my knowledge and understanding into an unfamiliar language.  In fact, if you told me to teach or to even STUDY in Cantonese, I would baulk at the idea.  Despite growing up with a mother who spoke Cantonese to me and attending Chinese school for 10 years of my life - my Cantonese is shockingly bad.

I was one of those stereotypical Chinese kids when I started my secondary school life, an A-grade student, a 'swot' some might (and may) have called me.  I understood what was being taught without much trouble and I believe that one of the main reasons for this is because I could speak, read and write English as a native - it was my preferred language.  (The other being that I am obviously a naturally intelligent person of course!?!) Should I have been taught in Cantonese, I doubt I would have still been academically succeeding in the way that I did.  Had I been asked to sit my exams in Cantonese, I would have certainly failed (or maybe only just by Chinese standards!)  I would have learnt answers by rote and not been able to express myself in the way that I can in my natural tongue - much like what is happening here.

Students, having grown up in a Kinyarwanda-rich environment, are suddenly thrust into a world where they're spoken AT in English.  Most of what is said are just empty sounds.  (It's slightly worrying to think that when children mimic English here, it sounds a lot like children mimicking Chinese back home!)  Masses of theory in English is scribed on the board (by a teacher, or in the absence of one, which is often the case, a student) and copied by learners and that sadly is the education here.  It's known as the 'chalk and talk' style of teaching - very teacher led and centred.  Whilst I am here to promote and develop 'learner centred methods' or 'active learning',  the general consensus is, "I was taught this way, my teachers were taught this way and so on, so why change?"  The problem is, I doubt that even the tutors understand what they are writing on the board sometimes, or rather cannot put into practice what they know in theory.  And there in, lies another problem.  Masses of theory, or supposed knowledge can easily be memorised but what is the point if this knowledge is not transferable into practice?  I can READ Kinyarwanda because I understand the grammar and phonological rules that govern it, I can copy Kinyarwanda word perfect and even tell you the meaning of some (a handful) of the words/sentences but ask me to SPEAK in Kinyarwanda and explain the text in Kinyarwanda...then I am lost.  In fact, I'm not even sure I'd understand the question in the first place due to language limitations.

I once saw a primary 5 student's notebook (age is irrelevant here, there are 12 year olds just beginning their primary education at Y1/P1 level) - it was all about the life cycle of a plant, beautifully handwritten, with the correct spelling of technical terms - the problem came when I asked the student to read their work to me.  It was evident that they were unable to do so.  When I pointed to the word 'stem' and asked them to show me the stem of a plant next to us, they had no clue as to what I was asking them to do.  They merely parroted the word 'stem' and then proceded to say, 'goodmorning, how are you?', despite it being 5pm.  But it is not the fault of the student.  Most primary school teachers (at least in the villages) do not speak English.  In fact, some headteachers cannot even speak English proficiently.  That's because they never had a need to learn - until 6 years ago.  So how can the government expect only English to be used in schools when they do not have the workforce who are skilled enough in the target language to teach?

In 2009, out of Rwanda’s 31,000 primary school teachers, only about 4,700 were trained in English, and out of Rwanda’s 12,000 secondary school teachers, about 600 were trained in English. 
(McGreal, 2009, The Guardian)

5 years on from these stats, I cannot imagine it has improved that much more...

Challenges, challenges, challenges - so how can they be solved?  On the surface it would appear that Rwanda is doing well on the English front with adverts, signs and newspapers being published in English - but this is mainly found in Kigali, the capital.  It's just not so easy to implement English as the language of instruction when school meetings and assemblies are still being held in Kinyarwanda, the radio broadcast during lunchtime is in Kinyarwanda and when staff members address students outside of class in Kinyarwanda - complete immersion may not be the answer but integration can play an influential role - and it begins from the top.  Teachers and leadership need training in English - but when can this be done when teaching takes up so much time already?  And I of all people understand the difficulties in learning a new language - I am just as reluctant to speak Kinyarwanda as they are to speak English.

It's ok for English to be the language of instruction if translations are allowed - but not necessarily from the teacher themselves.  Despite being 'forbidden', teachers here will all too quickly jump at giving Kinyarwanda explanations without allowing students time to process what has been said to them in English.  Either that or they speak in Kinyarwanda first and then explain in broken English, or 'Kinyalish.'  Often in my lessons, I have several students explain in their mother-tongue to the rest of the class their understanding of the lesson and (if the tutor is present) they can varify if what they are saying is correct or not.  I'm not saying this is a solution but it has helped me and other students immensely.  It is time consuming and taxing for learners not only to understand the content of what is being taught but having to translate from English to Kinyarwanda in the first instance - but it's unfortunately government policy - something that is not so easy to change.

Government organisations that partner with NGOs to develop 'better' education stipulate that written communication that is sent home from school should also be in English.  This is completely absurd because (a) few parents are actually literate and (b) if they are, they only usually read and write in Kinyarwanda.  Trainings to teachers and parents are also to be delivered in English which is where I struggle the most.  I often ask tutors to discuss in Kinyarwanda during group work but in presentation they should present in English - however, if there are 'official' people there (e.g the Principal or Education Officers...), then they will discuss only in (broken) English which means only those who speak English become dominant and actively participate.  The quality of the following discussion is then hindered by the lack of participation and also the understanding of the topic/s at hand.  Given the opportunity to speak in Kinyarwanda, I have seen participants confidently express their views (even amongst the few female colleagues at the TTC) and levels of engagement are clearly visible.  (i.e., less people playing Snakes or Tetris on their phones - or making/taking phone calls during the workshop/training.)

The government didn't expect nor state that the shift would be a smooth ride nor to be implemented at the wave of a wand but I'm not entirely sure what is being done to make this a successful transition.  Policies have been written/published without the appropriate strategies in place to support such a change.  Rather than dealing with the issue at heart, NGOs are brought in to build upwards to develop the country's education but on already unstable ground.  Foundations NEED to be reinforced and strengthened and whilst we (volunteers) are working at that level, what is being delivered is not often implemented due to language difficulties.  It's a cycle that sees no break.