Walking in their Shoes

Monday 18 December 2006

Some of my students are not as lucky as I. My home is right across from the school. I can leave my house at 7:44 am and be there on time for the 7:45 am national anthem and flag raising.

My students come from all directions. Some live off the main dusty road and can ride their bikes. Others live near the big Mosque, a mile or so from the school.

Today I hiked on a rocky non-bikable path up and over two hills, crossed two creeks, chasing after my 3 students who were almost running. In the hot noon sun surrounded by yellow tall grass, pulling up my long Guinean skirt that limited my stride, I walked an hour and half to the furthest village that my students come from.

The village welcomed me with great big smiles, enthusiastic handshakes, and fed me oranges and fonio with sauce until I was stuffed. Then they loaded me from their plentiful gardens, fruit from their trees containing hundreds of rotting and sweet oranges, grapefruit, cassava, peanuts, taro, fonio, sweet potatoes, and a live chicken. Thank goodness I brought my backpack.

The sun was setting as I tried to hurry home. Two students accompanied me part of the journey and then sent me on my way having no doubt I could make it carrying all of my heavy gifts, oranges and peanuts on my back, edible roots in one hand, and a live chicken in the other. One nice assumption Guineans have is that women are not assumed to be physically weak.

I have four truly dedicated students who walk 14 km (8-9 miles) round trip, 6 days a week to receive an education. I have a new respect for them walking in their shoes today.