So, today
is St. Patrick’s Day. I remembered when
it was this year long before I usually do, because Griffin is oh so proud of
her Irish heritage. Honestly, this day
doesn’t normally have any really special significance for me, but this year is
a little different, due to the ironic coincidence that today was also “Visitation Day”
at Patrick’s school.
If you
remember, we are using the money raised from selling CDs to pay for Patrick’s
first year at Minor Seminary (the level of seminary that would match up with
late middle school and early high school years in the US). Once per term (and there are three terms per
year), all boarding schools, whether they are primary, secondary, seminaries,
nursing schools, or whatever, have a Visitation Day, usually near the middle of
the term, when students’ families come to talk to teachers, see grades, listen
to speeches, eat a big lunch, and spend time with the kids.
So, a few
weeks ago, Max told me that Patrick’s day was March 17th (it took me
a few days before I realized the irony of it also being St. Patrick’s Day), and
on Friday he said that he and Teddy would come pick me up at about nine in the
morning. I was actually up in time (rare
for a weekend), and they got to my house a little after ten – close
enough. The drive to the seminary took a
little less than an hour, and, about five minutes before we got there, Max
decided that it was a good time to inform me that two of their other kids had
visiting days today as well. So, for at
least a few hours, I was going to be the family’s representative at Patrick’s
school, while they went to their daughter Gemma’s school. Wonderful – so I was heading into a sea of
people I didn’t know, except for Patrick, which wasn’t a huge help. What I find kind of odd about these visiting
days is that it seems like families don’t actually get to spend a ton of time
with the kids. All of these activities,
meetings, and presentations happen, but the students are often separate from
the parents. For example, during the two
hour Catholic mass, all of the students sat in the middle of the church, while
the parents were behind them or in the side pews. During lunch as well, most students didn’t
sit with their families.
As you
would probably guess, I’m not really the person who walks into a gathering full
of strangers and immediately starts making friends with people. Actually, the opposite of that would probably
describe me a bit more accurately. So,
there I was, sitting on a bench, watching what might be called the school’s
marching band, in that there was one group of people playing brass instruments
and drums, and a second group of people marching to the music – not exactly the
type of marching band I remember from high school. There I was, sitting in a pew trying to pick
out anything I could from the mass (which was completely in Luganda),
discreetly glancing sideways at the guy next to me from time to time so I had
some idea of when to stand up, sit down, kneel, or cross myself. There I was, sitting on a stool outside,
listening to someone give directions about lunch, and hoping that I understood
enough of what he was saying to know the correct procedure. Actually, now that I think of it, it was kind
of nice…I felt a sense of anonymity that is usually lacking in my life
here. People weren’t making a big deal
about me, and no one was going out of his or her way to make me feel
special. Strange as it may sound, I
enjoyed and appreciated this.
As I was
sitting on my stool, waiting for the huge buffet line to dwindle, Max and Teddy
returned. I was happy to see some
familiar faces, but I also realized that my status had now reverted back to “honored
muzungu guest”. Within a few minutes, a
priest was leading by the hand, past all of the people waiting in line, and he
put me at the start of the buffet table so that I could get my food
immediately. I thought about protesting
and saying that I didn’t mind waiting, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t make a
difference. On the other hand, maybe
this system works better for everyone, since I eat about half as fast as most
Ugandans…
After we had
eaten lunch, it was about 4:00 pm, and we still needed to go visit Emma, Max
and Teddy’s youngest son, at his primary school. So, we talked with Patrick for a few minutes
before heading out. Patrick seems to be
doing well, by the way. He was one of
the acolytes or altar boys or whatever they’re called during the service (sorry,
it’s been a while since I’ve been to a Catholic mass), and he is currently 10th
in his class, out of, I don’t know, a lot more than ten. The list was long, and there were a lot of numbers…but
I did notice that his music score was very high – that’s my boy…
We drove to
Emma’s school and probably spent about an hour there. Emma is in Primary Four, and he can’t be any
older than ten or eleven. I have to
admit that this whole idea of boarding school really amazes me, especially for
kids that young. Even in high school, I
was never away from my family for more than a few days at a time, and those
periods, usually related to swimming or music, didn’t happen frequently. When I finally went to college, I got used to
the idea of being away from my family relatively quickly, but I still missed
them, as well as friends back home (and I also miss them now, of course). It’s really hard for me to imagine leaving
home for months at a time when I was in elementary school, middle school, or
even high school. Ugandan parents who can
afford it send their kids to these schools because it will likely give them
greater opportunities in the future, I think, but I still have trouble grasping
it. I’m certainly not saying it’s a bad
thing the parents are doing – it’s great that they’re trying to give their kids
these opportunities. I just don’t know
how I would react in this situation, personally, either as the child or as the
parent…
Anyway,
after hitting all of the schools on the list, we headed home, back to Kalisizo. Max decided to take a shortcut on some bumpy back
roads, making it very difficult for me to read, and I don’t think we got back
any faster than we would have otherwise (Mom and Phyllis will likely be
chuckling right now). But, we did make
it back with no problems, and Max dropped me outside of my compound. As I was saying good night and thanking them
for letting me come along, Max said, “Thank you for the friendship you’ve shown
today.” It was sort of a striking statement,
and it reminded me that, sometimes, doing something very small can mean a lot
to others. I certainly didn’t start the
day thinking that my tagging along would be a big deal, but Max and Teddy
seemed to appreciate it quite a bit. So
that’s a plus.
