My Boys

Contrary to the title of “studying abroad” I did not come here to study. I came to South Africa to volunteer. I tutor boys ranging from grade 3 to high school three to four times a week at a Refuge School called the Ark School, located near townships away from the modernism or lifestyle of Cape Town. It is by far my favorite part about being in South Africa. These boys are set up in this school (where most of them also live) due to lack of resources, unfit families or abuse. Therefore, it is similar to a boy’s home, but much deeper than that. They do everything together from sleeping, eating, playing and studying. There is a strong brotherhood among the boys that I have never seen in any children I have ever worked with. It is truly inspiring; in fact, I am jealous of these boys. Although they have little to nothing compared to what my parents blessed me with while growing up, they are not depleted of love and care. It is evident in their interactions and through the headmistresses, Dawn. She is incredibly strict, but completely out of love. Even though she scares me at times, I can only hope to become half the woman she is one day.

Each time I go to the Ark, I see the progress in these boys and their fire to learn. Although the school is doing all it can for them, having individual attention to learn basic skills of arithmetic and grammar at their age is crucial. I always get flashbacks to my mother doing homework with me every night while growing up. My education and ambition in school is due to her, and for that, I thank her tremendously.

But each of them is excited to learn. For instance, today was Mario’s birthday and while there was a cutting of the cake and commotion surrounding letting the boys use my camera, Abonye sat there trying to figure out a polynomial subtraction problem I had given him earlier (which I will admit took me a while to remember how to do). He refused to not give up. He is a serious child, who I can tell will go far because he is willing to take the time to learn things-even something as dull as polynomial equations. Once he got the concept, his face lit up and he smiled- a difference from his usual demeanor. It sounds incredibly trite and dare I say cliché to say, but it was one of those moment I will remember forever. This is why I came here. Nothing about these boys is credited to me. I wish they knew how amazing they are and the possibilities life has to offer them. One day, they will-even though all of them claim to desire to be a soccer player, except for Eric who wants to be a social worker and is interested in human rights at the age of 13. I can talk for days about each boy, but I shall spare you all.

I now can confidently say that I am going to teach abroad for a year of my life, God willing. I am really happy being here. Although exhausted by the time I reach the school, the second I sit down and have them beg me to write their names in Arabic, I feel revived. The car ride to the volunteering usually follows the same pattern: everyone is quiet and sleepy on the way there, but is overflowing with things to say about each boy and their progress on the way back. I will admit that I have lately been a little preoccupied about things back home in California, but this reminded me why I am here. Although people matter back home, this is the time I need to give more of myself to those here.