Middle of Everywhere - Mary Bray Pipher [108]
School
Joseph, Abraham, and Paul had been allowed to go to school in Kakuma. Martha had been kept back, working in the home of an elder in their clan. Her brothers had argued with this elder when he refused to let Martha go to school. They had been beaten for defending their sister's right to school. But they had lost the arguments and Martha at eighteen had not learned how to read.
At twenty-two, Joseph was too old for high school. He had to find a job and support the family. But we would help him study for his GED. The others were enrolled in our public schools.
Joseph and I planned to escort Paul and Martha to their first day of school. I went by the apartment early and they were dressed and ready. I gave them notebooks, pencils, book bags, and money for lunch tickets. They'd eaten only bread and milk for breakfast.
Martha wore a sweatshirt and stone-washed jeans with a red plastic coat. Paul wore a used marathon T-shirt and green plaid suit pants. The brothers wore stocking caps all the time, mainly to keep warm, but also because they liked them. Martha's clothing combinations were unique, but she always looked beautiful.
Joseph and I walked first to the middle school with Paul and Martha. I showed them how to cross busy streets. At first Paul and Martha chatted, but as we approached the three-story brick building, they grew quiet.
Inside, people were friendly, but it was bright, noisy, crowded, and very non-Kakuma. The American kids streaming past us seemed much shorter, whiter, louder, and more confident. As leader of his family, Joseph bravely trudged in, shaking hands and greeting school administrators. Martha was wide-eyed with fear but held herself with dignity. Paul followed behind, looking like he would bolt if we gave him a chance.
Our first task was to work the combination lockers. That had been a grueling experience in my school days, and it about did them in. Teaching Paul to work the lock was stressful for all of us. Joseph and I finally got the darned thing open, then Paul did. However, we struggled anxiously with Martha's lock for ten minutes before we finally gave up and went into orientation.
We sat at desks, not built for tall Africans, and listened as a teacher showed us a map of the school and went over procedures. Joseph was sweating in the cool room. Paul and Martha showed by their eyes that they had checked out completely. Then, the teacher handed Paul and Martha their schedules and read out Martha's classes, which included reading and piano lessons.
I looked at Joseph. He was smiling a small slow smile. He was thinking that the crossing, the cold of Nebraska, the difficulties of dealing with us beefy Midwesterners—all his efforts were for this. His sister was no longer a servant. She could go to school. She would learn to read books and play piano. She would be a respected person.
On the way home, Joseph said to me, "In five years I would like to take you to Africa."
I said, "I would like that very much, too. You could show us around."
"Sometimes we must walk for three days to see our friends," Joseph said.
I replied, "I am ready."
Outings
Over the next few months I had many field trips with the family. Once I took them to the supermarket, an amazing place to people who have lived for years on one meal a day of porridge. They got one cart and I got a cart for myself. Joseph ordered Paul to push my cart. Paul was so eager to be useful that he lifted items out of my hands to put them into my cart. I selected a few items and tried to explain to him why I bought spinach, brown rice, yogurt, and oranges. I taught him the names of some American products—peanut butter, cantaloupe, cornflakes, and dish soap.
Meanwhile, Joseph led the other shopping expedition. He selected several gallons of milk, lots of juice, and four cartons of eggs. Martha picked up three eggplants, which I suspected she liked for the bright purple