The pencil - a powerful tool

Today I taught 6 older ladies to write their names for the first time. It was a very special time, whilst also profoundly sad in some ways.

I didn’t ask the ages of the 6 Acholi ladies that I was working with, but most of them had fled from their tribal land in the 1980’s when the Lords Resistance Army was just starting its reign of terror and had been in the south ever since, trying to carve out a meager existence breaking stones at the quarry. They all have children, some have grandchildren, and I suspect they all look older than their real age due to the incredibly hard life they have each had.

One of the ladies, Beatrice, was younger, and had a small child with her, just 1yr 5 months. The baby’s father was arrested in Sudan before the baby was born, and Beatrice has no idea of his whereabouts. 

Nighty only moved to Acholi Quarters less than a year ago, having lived in Jinja since she fled the north. 6 years ago her husband was murdered, and no-one has ever been brought to justice about it.

None of the ladies had ever been to school, none of them have the ability to read or write, to sign a form, to read signposts so that they know if they have arrived where they need to go, to be able to tell if they are being charged the right amount at a shop. Instead they have spent their days raising children, earning a maximum of 25p / day at the stone quarry, and moving through life in their own way, a way that is so very limited by their inability to read.

The disempowerment of not being able to read is so great. It’s not just about the fact that you can’t interact fully with society around you, or the status implications that are linked with illiteracy in so many countries. It’s not just the massive bearing it has on what employment can be secured. It is also an issue of safety, especially for children and vulnerable adults. How much easier it would be to lure someone into a trap if they can’t read the signs about them; how much more exposed and vulnerable that person is.

And the converse of that is how empowered people are when they can read and write. The pencil is a powerful tool; oh that everyone should be able to use one.

My little literacy lesson had come about on Monday when one of the ladies saw the CRED team I’ve been with teaching the children, and she jokingly asked me, through a translator, whether she was too old. Despite the laughter, I sensed the desire within her to just be able to write her name, and so I promised to return the next day with some resources to teach her, and a few other ladies.

Unfortunately the rains thwarted my attempts yesterday – a torrential downpour that caused everyone to seek shelter indoors, and resulted in me not being able to find the ladies.  But today dawned bright and sunny and the ladies were ready and waiting when I arrived at the Acholi Quarters.

Part one of the lesson was teaching them to hold a pencil, and just getting used to using it – vertical lines, horizontal lines, circles, x’s. Not surprisingly it came more naturally to some than others, but they all mastered the art.

Then came copying out the alphabet – I was aware that they didn’t all know the names or sounds of the letters, but as I only had one hour, I figured that at least by writing the alphabet it gave them a start on forming all the different shapes.

Whilst they were doing that, I wrote down their names (with the help of a translator).  They each have a descriptive name and a Christian name, and so I learnt that one of them has a name that means ‘born on the way to the hospital’, another has a name that means ‘drunk father’, and another means ‘perseverance’.

They certainly all showed perseverance today as they copied their name out several times, and then had a go at writing it blind. The delight on their faces when they achieved that was very special.

By that time I was having to leave to catch my flight home to UK, but before I went we discussed their hopes and dreams, and what else they would like to learn  - to know the alphabet, to be able to read signs, and to be able to write a bit more than just names. And we also discussed their home-work between now and when I am back: to keep practicing their name every day until they can write it wherever they are, without having to have a crib sheet in their pocket.

I will be back in the Acholi Quarters for a week in February, and at that point I will come prepared to work on some simple reading with the ladies. It’s not much, and I wish I could do so much more for them, but as long as my time is split between different countries and projects, all I can do is keep my eyes open to all opportunities to serve, be open to doing the bits I can do, and maybe equip others to get involved to have a longer impact.

And that’s all any of us can do – keep hearts, minds and eyes open for opportunities to serve, and then have the courage to seize them.

May we see and grasp those opportunities, to bring hope and help to those most in need. And thank you Lord for Josephine, Christine, Margaret, Beatrice, Mary and Nighty – practicing writing their names, and for giving me such a very special, inspiring and humbling morning.