The high-rise steel fence carefully guards the busy school grounds of Ntsika Secondary as we wait patiently for the electric gate to make its move. Onboard are 146 SD cards soon to find their new homes.
Thandie Nqowana, the ever-present Vulindlela leader, is first out of the car, followed by Tristan Cooke, a final-year Journalism student. At the same time, I gather the boxes of SD cards that we have become intimate with over the last couple of weeks.
Until now, we are yet to see the students but know their names and subjects. Each card is personalised. It has been a long haul, but the tedious hours have culminated into this moment. The time has come to match the names to faces, the names to people, the people to the future.
Our trio was greeted by a heavyset man, very neatly presented and carefully spoken. He introduced himself as Mr Soloman Johnson and ushered us through to the large staff room to tackle last-minute admin.
Once we completed the formalities, we headed towards the block of classrooms. I was unsure what to think or expect; after all, I am Zimbabwean swimming in waters I do not know yet.
Striding down the corridor, I noticed that Mr Johnson’s presence became clear as day; boisterous students quickly turned serious when spoken to. There was a great intensity about it, but one built from respect rather than fear.
The atmosphere in the first class was tangible. I’m not sure the students had a complete understanding of what was about to happen; nevertheless, everyone took their seats in anticipation.
“Molweni”, Thandie commanded as she powerfully took charge of the classroom. The students responded immediately as the explanation began. Intrigue invaded the classroom.
Each student was called up one by one to collect their very own SD card, personalised individually with as much learner support material that could fit in the 32Gb storage. The classroom began to buzz once everyone had their card. I felt the energy. Before, it had been a class list with subject choices, and now it was a person; each name was a person. Tedious hours quickly transformed into smiles and joy.
I was overwhelmed. I had not known what to expect, but seeing and even feeling other people’s joy in this way was gratifying. Gratifying for the students, gratifying for the teachers and gratifying for us as the team who put in the hours to make this possible.
A class representative walked to the front of the class and thanked us for our time and effort. This blindsided me and played a catalyst for my emotions that threatened to boil over. I never expected this. I never did this to be thanked; it was always to give people a chance they deserve. Trying my best to hold myself together, I recall thinking that we were on the right track with the project.
One class became six as we bounced around the school grounds handing SD cards to every matric student. The walk back to the staff room was married with reflection; 146 of 520 Makhanda matrics were done. The job suddenly became a lot more real, but the job was not finished.
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