Tales from a Namibian Classroom

Denzel’s first words of English seem to be “No chickens in class.

” Every day, at some point, and maybe as many as 10 times a day, chickens seem to think the classroom is a good place to get out of the sun. Whenever we see a chicken in the threshold, the tradition is to turn around, wave our arms wildly and yell “no chickens in class!” Denzel has taken to jumping up and chasing them away with arms flailing and a big grin on his face squeaking “no chickens in class! No chickens!!!!” At least I’ve taught him something. If nothing else, he’ll make a fine security guard when he grows up. All last week the class kept breaking out into a chorus of “Happy birthday three you”. It sounded so hilarious I didn’t have the heart to correct them. Eventually I found out it was Vivian’s 4th birthday. Yesterday Vivian turned up to class an hour late looking like she had been on a three day birthday bender. She was looking groggy and disoriented. She was wearing a ski jacket and boots which was very odd considering it was 100 degrees F outside. Her face was covered in dirt and her very crusty clothes hadn’t been changed for at least three days. In her little fist she was clutching a high caliber bullet – the type that is used to bring down big game. If she had been 15 years older, my suspicions would have been “I just woke up after three days of drinking and drugs and found my lover shot dead next to me.” However, considering she is 4 years old and her mother just had a new baby last week, I’m guessing her mother is a little overwhelmed right now and poor Vivian isn’t getting much sleep either with the new baby crying. Goodness only knows where she got the bullet, but she didn’t fuss when I insisted she hand it over to me. I put it up on a high shelf where the kiddies can’t get to it. The classroom is about 100 feet from the leopard enclosure. Sometimes we can see Rex the leopard up in his tree from our windows. He just hangs there in the branches looking like a big stuffed animal. Of course he is enclosed with an electric fence, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t look too frightening. Leopards are dangerous predators. So I wasn’t too surprised when the children jumped up last week, went to the windows and yelled “Leopard”. I went to have a look, but I couldn’t see Rex in his tree. The kids insisted and kept pointing. I know there are also free roaming leopards on the farm, but they are pretty stealthy and wouldn’t come so close to the houses. Yet the kids just kept insisting and dragged me outside. There, about 20 feet from the kindergarten, they pointed out leopard prints in the sand. Now, I wouldn’t know a leopard print from a dog’s print so maybe they were pulling my leg. Still, I could console myself that little Denzel (who would holding my hand and looking up at me all worried with his big brown eyes) would make much easier prey than big old me. Not that I was really planning on throwing Denzel to the leopard. In all reality, the leopard (if it was indeed a leopard and not a figment of the kids’ imagination) would certainly go for a chicken first.