The Long Journey of a Teacher Of French and English
My journey as a teacher of French started when I got to secondary school and I had to choose between French and the local language of my country.
Picking the local language was not an option. You see, during my primary school days, the local language was not compulsory as a subject because we did not even write it as a primary leaving examination subject.
There were only two subjects written at Grade 7 level: Mathematics and English. My country had inherited the pre-colonial ways where the local languages were disregarded. It was a few years later that the local languages became compulsory and examinable at the primary level.
I remember my first French teacher was a Mauritian gentleman, Mr. Bapoo. Sadly, he had to return to Mauritius, and we were left without a teacher for a long time until we were rescued by a gentleman from Zambia.
He also left and we got another gentleman from France, Mr. McGhee, who took us through to our final examinations. I do not know how I passed French because when I look at my secondary school years, I spent more time without a French teacher than with one.
My passion for the subject was high from the beginning because I continued to work on my own using the textbooks. We had no internet those days which made self-learning a challenge. Nonetheless, I persevered.
When I completed my secondary education, I went to a Teacher’s college and specialized in French and English, after which I went to Reunion Island for more French teaching training at the University of Tampon.
I returned to Zimbabwe and taught for many years then decided to further my education by enrolling at the University of Zimbabwe to study French and Portuguese on a full-time basis for three years.
The years at university were not without their own drama. In Zimbabwe, you cannot say you have gone through university if you have not breathed in tear gas! I remember at one time some students mobilized themselves to march to the State House for what was termed the “Final Push!”
The march was in a bid to show the then-president R. G. Mugabe that people wanted him out of office. They did not get far with their march as they were stopped in their tracks by a Police Roadblock along Sam Nujoma Way. The only results they got from that march were hundreds of Riot police officers on campus over a week!
I remember soldiers and police officers came in tear gas spitting tanks and terrorized students on campus regardless of whether one took part in the foiled march or not. Every morning the riot police officers would come to the university and sit in trees around the college.
I could tell they were enjoying themselves as they would chant anti-student songs while students inside the college would also be chanting anti-police songs. It was really comical when the police officers were not using their baton sticks and tear gas on students.
These numerous unrests forced the college to shut down on a few occasions.
When I finally and thankfully completed my studies, I returned to my teaching post, but I only taught for two years and resigned to pursue a career in another country.
The economic situation in Zimbabwe had become sour: as a teacher, it had become increasingly difficult to make ends meet on the meager salary we received. We had to find ways to survive. It had become a sink or swim situation.
Therefore, I decided to swim. The school where I was teaching was a government boarding school regarded as an “elite” school. The who’s who of the province and country sent their children there. It was not surprising to find that students had more pocket money than what their teachers earned at the end of each month.
An idea came to me. What if I sold sweets? And I started. The response was astounding! I couldn’t meet the demand at first as I had ordered small amounts, unsure of how the “customers” would respond to my “business.”
After seeing the positive response, I had to increase the supply. With time I ventured into different items like lollipops, chocolate bars, chips, cakes, and doughnuts! I made a lot of cash on a weekly basis and I would buy foreign currency and save my money in that form.
Every week I counted profits, real profits! I was never cash-strained, and I always had foreign currency on me throughout the month. I remember those days we used to be in money groups where we put people into teams of 5 or 6 people who would decide how much they wanted to contribute monthly, in Rand currency, between ZAR300 and ZAR500.
The members would all bring their monthly contributions and all the money would be given to one member on a rotational basis. The member receiving would host a party where food and drinks would be served. Members would be compelled to buy a plate of food at a uniform cost in Rand and at least three beverages of their choice. Extra plates of food and drinks would be available to buy for those who would want more or to take away.
This system worked perfectly well as one could receive the money and use it for business or whatever one wanted to do. Ladies had become hustlers who did whatever it took to survive. So, in a year one would receive the lump sum twice and do something big with it.
My sweet selling hustles on the side made it extremely easy for me to be in these money groups. During those days the Rand was a powerful currency in Zimbabwe, and one could do a lot with just ZAR1000!
When I decided to leave the country, it was not really because I was in need of money, but I had gotten so annoyed with the water cuts and load shedding. It had reached a point where we would only get electricity around 2300hrs and lose it around 0500am. It was so unbearable that I was slowly but surely losing my mind!
So, I decided to put my shoulder to the wheel and leave for “greener pastures.” My first stop was Botswana and it was quite an experience in the beginning!
When I left, I thought that I was now going to live my life! Boy, was I wrong!!!
The first school where I worked was a true career challenge. When I arrived there, I realized that the grass wasn’t always greener on the other side! I learned that the teachers were unhappy and not paid well or at the end of every month!
Coming from a place where every day was payday for me to where every month end one was not necessarily paid day was a tall order. It was not surprising that I missed my workplace back home. Fortunately, I had not resigned as it was school holiday time in Zimbabwe.
Basically, I was keeping two jobs. My new school in Botswana was almost getting to the end of term when I joined them so when it was holiday time I could return to Zimbabwe. On the last day of school, the teachers were paid a fraction of their salaries and I expected to receive my own portion. But, alas! I was only given a freaking BWP100!
I was like Whaaat!! So, I should go back to Zimbabwe and return next term on this? It got me thinking that back home I earned that much over two days with my side hustle! I felt very insulted and thought of not bothering to return the following term.
I traveled back to Zimbabwe and survived on my own money which had nothing to do with the job from where I was returning. Funnily, I found myself planning my return journey. I had to devise a plan to enable me to return without jeopardizing my job in Zimbabwe. I decided to seek indefinite sick leave.
This was just to protect me in case teachers returned to work while I was away. Teachers in Zimbabwe were, generally, on strike at that time, so nothing was happening in schools. My absence did not really make any difference as no students suffered because of it. Frankly speaking, I would not have been at work anyway had I been in Zimbabwe.
The “Indefinite sick leave” meant that I became cleared and could return to Botswana. This arrangement worked perfectly for me and enabled me to explore other avenues.
That was when the real foreign country experience began!!!