South Africa – Day 14, The Bergendal School

Today was an interesting day at Bergendal. We got to meet the staff in a more personal setting, and to get a glimpse of what life is like for a teacher on the quaint campus of a school in the middle of a farming community. The children are poor, the teachers are not rich, the classrooms are cold, resources are limited, but the school is an escape from the harsh realities of life as many of these children know it here in Paarl. Its an oasis of hope and love in the middle of a valley of uncertainty.



I started off my day by befriending a group of youngsters ranging in age from 6-10 years old. I asked them to show me around. They grabbed my hands and begin taking me to each classroom, and pointing out significant landmarks on the campus ... like the basketball court, the computer lab, and the library to me.



I started off in the 9th grade class. I was hoping to get a glimpse of what a typical classroom session looks like for a 9th grader in Paarl, South Africa. Instead I was told that this class would be a free session and no instruction would take place; thus, I was invited to lead an “inspirational chat” with the learners. This would be the 1st of 2 such chats today where we talked about violence, sex, suicide, race, dreams, goals, vision, and the importance of education. I told them my story… how I grew up in Jersey City, NJ in the midst of drugs and poverty, and how I watched my mother struggle to make a better life for me. To this day, I can’t say that I grew up poor. I was surrounded by poverty, we had hard times occasionally, but I never went without. I don’t know what it is like to not have food; what it is like to not have shoes and proper clothing, coats and such; what it is like to not be able to see a doctor when you are sick; what it is like to not have school supplies; what it is like to not have proper housing… I told them about how irresponsible I was during my undergrad years… I told them about my abuse of alcohol and the promiscuity and violence that was often associated with it… I told them about how I took school for granted and how much I value the opportunity to earn a doctorate today… I told them about having a vision and a dream and a hope… I told them that the next president of South Africa could come from Bergendal… I told them to dream big... I told them that there is nothing that is beyond their ability.



Break time hasn’t arrived, but the children begin systematically leaving their classrooms around 9:30am to get PB&J sandwiches from a table near the kitchen. I am told that the children have to eat in shifts like this otherwise the little ones get pushed around and don’t get to eat. You see, many of these children haven’t eaten since they had lunch on Friday afternoon (its Tuesday, as Monday was a holiday). I was told by one of the teachers of a father who made R45 a week (around $7 American). This father said that R45 wasn’t enough to feed his family, so he would rather spend it on wine than to be sober and watch his family starve. Some of the children ask for bread to take home on Friday so they will have food on the weekend. Much of the food is donated or provided by some external agency, but at times the teachers will take from their own money to buy food for the children. Most South Africans will never eat in most of the restaurants we’ve eaten in during our visit.

Before lunch I talk with Florina, who shares with me some of the problems with alcohol abuse among the students. "Many of the students here drink wine," she tells me... a byproduct of the areas wine industry. They gather at a place near one of the farms to drink (13-16 year olds). They say they have nothing else to do. 14 year old girls trade sex for wine, or for money for wine. They ask to get birth control shots when the mobile clinic comes around to the school because the don’t want to get pregnant by the older men who have sex with them in exchange for wine and money. I hear stories of girls who are raped and molested by their mother’s boyfriends while the mother turns a deaf ear because she needs the money that the boyfriend brings in. Some mothers simply sell their young daughters like prostitutes. At least one young lady at the school has attempted suicide as a result of her molestation. I even hear of a 14 year old black girl who left school last year to live with a 36 year old white man who she is now pregnant by (because this is South Africa, I felt that the races of the girl and man were important to note). My heart breaks for these children. Tomorrow I will get to see their living conditions, which I am told are often deplorable.

We had a fun lunch with the teachers where we ate “fite cooke,” vegetable soup, and pumpkin fritters. They love to laugh and treated us with warm hospitality.
Amidst all of these horrors, many of the children are bright, intelligent, well behaved, neat, courteous, loving and kind. A parade of little ones crowded around me and piled on top of me as they taught me to count in Afrikaans, and I taught them to count in Spanish. Apparently, numbers, laughter and love are universal. I thank these little ones for the gift of innocence and love, and I pray that God covers them in the vulnerability of childhood.



We ended the evening with a “braai” (BBQ South African style) at Natalie’s. Best lamb I have had in South Africa. The food was superb, and the company was splendid.

Written by Frederick A Hanna