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Moments from a teacher's journey by Abdul-Aziz Ali Omer

12-06-2014, 03:40 PM
Abdul-Aziz Ali Omer
<aAbdul-Aziz Ali Omer
Registered: 01-13-2014
Total Posts: 85






Moments from a teacher's journey by Abdul-Aziz Ali Omer

    You dejected…neglected fellows…lecturing every where in every African classroom. You are the trees that give apples. You are the bees that produce honey. You are the drenching clouds on a sweltering day. I once recorded these encouraging words to un-known soldiers and I share them with you as I write my journey as a teacher. To me, 5 years have passed since becoming a teacher and those years amazingly changed the features of my pupils. One of faces I saw inside a bus was a young boy. He showed a homogenous taste as he meditated me with tired eyes through his small black eye-glass in a gleam of recognition. My attraction towards him forced me to greet with a smile. You are Abdul-Aziz. You had taught me English. He said and then he shook my hand. The bus stopped shortly a head and two young people stepped down. A young father flung a stone that missed children hurrying to receive him. On other side a young mother bent to kiss the hands of small children in a compassionate reception . The ambivalent sentiments put pain and joy on our faces. At last, I arrived at Om sagata to where I have been replaced from Dehaima where there is no light but that of fire and fleeting cars. The sun went down. I retired to bed early. Next day, with half closed hesitant eyes , I pulled on the night cover in on a wintry morning. It is another day and duty impels me to get on my feet to find relief in praying that imbues me with optimism, contentment and warmth.
    Our out-lying school is distant from our house so after taking a hot bath and Gas-made tea , I go to school. In front of the classrooms, I see little pupils huddling under December sun. I wave my cold shaking arm in the greeting of peace: peace be upon you. I wait for moments until the door office is un-locked. Meanwhile, I enjoy the sight of a bird drawn on the pale wall. What a nice imprint of a burgeoning artist!
    The bell is rung. Pupils in unison chant the Sudan national anthem in drowsy voices and with tepid sensations. One thing I like among one of my colleagues is his brief stand in a salute of freedom emblem, the flag which inadvertently doesn't fly in the cool breeze in our school as it noticed in other schools. We don’t eat with an appetite as breakfast comes for it is either cold nightly cooked beans or school -made lentil which is poorly cooked by an old lady. After the polite protest of teachers, another younger lady was chosen to make both tea and breakfast. The old lady comes late to sweep the floor of the office.
    Fortuantely,after the dull breakfast education officials arrived in a surprise inspection tour including the education Director-General. I recall that my first meeting with him was far from amicable yet his magnificent apology made an atonement for un-due cruelty. I thought of the deplorable condition of my family and how my request for transfer from rural Gedaref to Gedaref , the city was suppressed from education office by threatening with resignation. I need bread, the smile of children and morning's bell , the resounding bell. Ah! It was the third time in which I carried food in solidarity with starved colleagues in a neighboring school. The food spilled with some tears from every joint that ached me of weariness. With the help of a small boy who gave me some biscuit, I found my way I was lost in a sea of grass. On that day, there was an interval of rest and then we went to watch T.v. We returned home where we wished one another happiness in another morning of life full of un-exhausted patience and self-denial. .
                  

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