I cried because I saw what it is allows for some people, some persons, some cultures to flourish and others to languish. I must tell you my family and children (nieces) are ostensibly African, but we are mixed with a lot and our DNA, the women, anyway, would identify us as Spanish, Venezuelan, what we in Trinidad call cocopayol. Some may know that the mitochondria and the dna of women do not change through time nor mix; that whom ever your mother was, she is her mother and so on. So we are phenotypically African, with Chinese eyes, with Native Indian heritage, and Spanish Venezuelan blood attending an East Indian Hindu school. Yes.
In Trinidad and Tobago that means something. It is kind of unusual, in a class of twenty-five children, only about five were African. There is a separation of sorts, of a kind between ethnic groups, and so sown for political purposes and reinforced along racial* (created) and religious lines, so rarely is there a mix between Africans and Hindus, but do not by that assume that there are not children of such mixed unions, there are, so much so they have their own designation: Dougla.
But the children at that school are held, coddled, acknowledged, clapped, encouraged, supported, for every little thing. and I could not help but notice the effect of such showering, such love. And i have to recognize and see it is in the context of the Hindu culture, context and family that is so; the collective is of a bond strong, and we are able to partake of it because of this school. Being in the presence of such support emphasized what is lacking in the African family context; no parents, no father, and surely not that level of investment and care given to children. Let me tell you for those little tikes, under five years old most, the cost for graduation is a cool $1500. Just graduation, not tuition.
I was also struck at the operations of the school. It is not a school where you drop your child off and run. No. It is a school where parents participate: cook a pot, hang decorations, wipe noses, sweep floors, and the Principal acknowledged them, indicating that it is easy to give money, sign a check, but to make the time to invest in your children and other people's children and to give of your time, given all your other pressures, challenges, and demands. The emphasis on community and collective made me cry and tear a bit more.
The other significant aspect of the school is that it is Family Run: the mother is the Principal, her husband seems to be the all present extra hand, usually taking photos, present at every function. Children I believe are involved, but not sure. But today, I saw Nani, the Principal's mother. And how did i notice her>? She called my oldest niece and talked to her, not sure what she told her but felt it had something to do with how she was dressed, in a traditional madras cotton dress that I bought for them. ( i like ole time ting)..and then again, at the end of the ceremony, Nani talked to the graduand, MariElle, and gave her one big hug. I had to take a photograph, this old lovely lady dressed complete with her orni, hugging this dark black African child, and she the Nani looking like MariElle's greatgrandmother or her great aunts still living. These kinds of complexities and commonalities for a place like Trinidad, I like to capture as it is so often taken for granted or ignored in modern day.
The other thing that struck me is that of those twentyfive children, all the fathers were present for their child's early childhood graduation. All except one. .................................................. that one would be of an African child. That one would be my in law. I cant tell some truth and not all. I cant bear some of my soul and not all. I cant tell a story and leave parts out. sad but true, but not that much, you get used to uselessness.
Anyway, that struck me as well, the presence of fathers, and one of the speakers too from the Ministry of Education asked the fathers to stand and I counted them, there were about twenty-eight so I realized men stood who may not even have had children in the program
One collective effort, to ensure, cultivate, grow and succor children into lovely beings. and I understood there clearly why "the Indian children running away with academic achievement"
Now this flowery story telling is not to say there are not prickly situations. Like the fact that my niece was the only child dark and lovely as bronzed oil not to have her flag of herself pictured to hold as all the other children. And in previous programs we recognized that the darker lovelier children are not given prominent roles in plays and programs, and we do get a slight tinge of feeling that maybe they may not be as longingly held...but again, that was challenged today...the principal in her address talked of one child in particular who said to her, "MissIanthe, I have you imagined in my mind"...and the principal could not even get it out without pausing to clear her throat to let the tear that welled up pass before she said, "I knew what she meant, that she had me in her heart (tear tear, deep breath and pause)" before Principal indicated which child said that...it was mine; my MariElle, who is everybody's saltfish and darling.
I teared again, to see the bond of love and admiration between two differing pairs and it mean enough to Principal to choke her up and to mention it to a crowd of us gathered, spoken of the one standing out on stage. my dark loving African child, to her Hindu Indian Principal, and I cried again. There is Love Abounding in unexpected places.
Well, don't talk about love. This same MariElle was sitting sandwiched between two Indian little boys, one holding and pulling her hands, both of them, as if he wanted to pull her into him. And this is not the little boy who she has already told her mother she would marry. No her intended is Jude Lalla, another cutie a few seats away.
ahhh...a day of tears and fullness, hope and dreams of lives better lived through our children, to make ours worth living...that was graduation at Bright Eyes Early Education today. I cried.
PS> Daddy did show up at the end, just as individual family pics were being taken *
...yes, this was a lovely recollection! love in all its many forms knows no bounds.
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