To The Silent Heroes (a poem)

I haven`t updated this blog in a while, mainly because of work that has been keeping me busy, but also because a lot of the things I recently wrote and wanted to post up here were mainly concerning education (obviously, because I`m currently in the teaching field). I didn`t want to bore anyone with my opinions of the faults of certain educational institutions.

So a few weeks ago, I was moved emotionally enough to write a poem (Which I will post at a later stage as soon as it`s fully edited) and remembered some poetry that I wrote in my third year at campus. I then had a friend mail me these poems, so I could post them up on this blog over the next few weeks (or months) and coincidently, one of them describes perfectly the calibre of people that I find myself associated with since joining TeachSA in December 2010.

The following poem I initially wrote to honour the Peer Facilitators of The University of the Western Cape after I was selected as a member in 2008 and then to supervise them in 2009. What inspired me to write it was the dedication that my teammates put into their work to make new students feel welcome at our University, even though they knew that they were only getting a stipend, which was already too much because doing it was voluntary anyway.

However, when I write anything, I like a wide range of readers to be able to relate to it. So although the following poem was originally written to honour the Peer Facilitators of 2008 and 2009, it`s also dedicated to the Teach South Africa ambassadors, to my Dad who works for SANZAF (a welfare organisation) and to everyone who works for the betterment of humanity. It speaks for itself...

To The Silent Heroes

Here`s to those awake in the early morn

Before the world stirs for another day

To those dressed before dawn

Before time slowly withers away

Here`s to those who do not care

That the hours are many but the wages are not

To those who do it for the love – and are there

Despite the days so long and hot

Here`s to those who suffer in silence

And who save the rest from falling apart

To those who end the Rage and the Menace

They are those who give it their heart

Here`s to the those who show the way

Leading others by the hand

To those who help without delay

Who listen and understand

Here`s to those who do not wait

Who go the extra mile

To those who know their work is great

But are modest all the while

Here`s to those who guide the lost

And defend the faint at heart

To those who fight it out at all cost

Till the end and from the start

Here`s to those with the biggest smiles

Even with feet so sore

To those who walk the longest miles

Who are not afraid of asking for more

Here`s to those who stay behind

And watch while everyone leaves

To those whom you will always find

Are ready with rolled up sleeves

Here`s to those unsung Heroes

The shepherds who hide their fears

To those with watered brows

Here’s to the Volunteers

-          M. Abdul-Mugheeth Petersen

It Takes a Village

A few days ago I was going through some work in the staffroom when a commotion broke out between a teacher and a parent that had just walked in. Because I don`t understand Sepedi, I had to wait for the parent to leave in order to enquire about what had just happened. Apparently the uproar was about the fact that the parent had been called to the school in order for the teacher to discuss with her the problem of her child`s behaviour and poor performance in class. The parent`s prime concern against the teacher, however, was ‘Why have you called me to school? Why must I deal with this? I am not a teacher’. I wish I had been able to tell her ‘Well then that must be why your child is failing’.

Isn’t it fascinating how everyone in South Africa believes that they know exactly what is wrong with the education system in the country and how they have the solution to it. People always believe that they know what teachers are doing wrong and what teachers should do better in being the prime educator of their children. But no one ever thinks that the problem of education may be linked to them as parents. No one ever says ‘the teacher must be doing all he or she can to educate my child, maybe we as parents aren`t playing our part to the best of our ability’. Post-modern living seems to have blinded us to those very traditional beliefs that ground education first and foremost in the home, that a child`s first teacher is the mother, that it takes a village to raise a child.

I joined an NGO a few months ago that stationed me at a school in a village in the middle of Limpopo, a school that need a lot of help, a school that achieved a 21% Matric pass rate in 2010. Thus far, I haven`t attended a single parent-teacher meeting or a ‘Parent Evening’.

I remember when I was a kid, after my first day at primary school, my parents threatened that if I wasn`t going to get at least one certificate at the end of that year, I was sure to get a good hiding. Thinking back, I remember the fear that those words aroused in me. I didn`t have a choice, I had to pass, and not only pass but pass really well. My mom used to sit with a belt next to me when I had to read my set work books out loud to her and then I would get a whack over my legs for every word I miss read. I got certificates for the next three years.

Neither of my parents finished school. As was very common among non-whites before 1994, they left school after Standard 7: my dad, to work for his family, and my mom, to nurse her mother who suffered from Rheumatic Fever and Angina. For this, I am even more greatly indebted to them for the effort that they put into getting me through school and understanding the importance that they played in it.

Later, when my mom couldn’t understand the complex maths we did in high school, my parents still attended the parent meetings that were held four times a year and they still made sure that my work was being done and that I was putting in study time. They didn’t reduce my chores, I still had to wash dishes, run errands and do whatever else was required in order to teach me responsibility, but my grades were always up to scratch.

To date, my parents have never beaten me for failing a year at school (I guess because I never did), or any of my six siblings for that matter. But every time I fail to do my best, I wish they had. My parents' willingness to take extreme measures to make sure that I excelled in school instilled in me the importance of hard work. It made me see that despite our circumstances, despite my less than perfect schooling, despite everything that stood against me, my own success in life depends on me. If parents do not take an active interest in their children's lives, soon enough, there will be other's who will.

A Bit on the Wild Side

So Ramadhaan has come and gone and as we attempt to go on with our regular lives, we can all guess what the topics during Fridays at mosque are going to be about, oh yeah; Imaams will be speaking about the importance of carrying the lessons of self-restraint and piety that we accomplished during month throughout the year as well. So because you have the big guys to entertain you with those thoughts, I decided do this post-Labarang entry about something a bit more personally enlightening that I pondered about this Ramadhaan.

It started at about the end of the first week when I was on my way to the fateful Letaba Air Show with some friends, when Laaika played some music by this Swedish artist called Maher Zain, a contemporary nasheed (Islamic Devotional Music) artist. I had never really heard anything of the sort before – it was devotional and at the same time had an easy R`nB sound to it. I immediately loved it. When I got home that night, I went Googling and YouTubing Zain and found a whole lot of really great contemporary nasheed artists – R`nB, Pop and even Hip Hop and Rap – from all over the world.

For the next few weeks, I had a great time listening to this type of music because I was really very accustomed to the traditional Qasiedahs, Naats and Qawallis that our elders were so privy to, so a bit of a variety was greatly welcomed. That was, however, until I had read a Facebook comment on a photo of Native Deen, a hip hop nasheed group from the States.

This random guy commented ‘What is this? Islamic hip hop? Since when has Islam become so blah-blah?’...and a whole long comment about disrespecting Islam in this way. The comment, however narrow-minded, got me thinking about it for a while and, had I been more closed to other peoples’ opinions, I would either have dismissed the writer of the comment by calling him an idiot, or I would not have listened to Native Deen in the first place. This may just have been one person’s comment, but it echoed a feeling that many other people feel, and I respect this commenter for saying how he felt, even though I do not fully agree with him.

I don`t feel as though people who express their devotion to God in a way that is different from mainstream are disrespecting Him in any way. We all worship God however we feel we can and in whichever way conveys our emotions to the Divine in the best possible way. I agree that it is very new and contemporary to our ears, but t doesn’t make it any less relevant.

We grew up listening to Arabic and Malay Qasiedahs and Urdu Qawallis. Our grandparents had absolutely no problem with them, even though they are based on the same principles – They are devotional music that are sang with rhythmical inflections of the voice while using drums and percussion (and often other musical instruments). Hip hop is made in the same way. Do people now suddenly have a problem with it because it is not in Urdu or Arabic? As if God doesn’t understand English.  

Or would we rather have kids listen only to music about sex, drugs and whatever else mainstream hip hop conveys these days. Contemporary nasheeds are a great, although possibly a bit too idealistic, alternative to having them listen only to the kinds of music that we all listen to anyway.

The Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) said that he has brought Islam as a religion for all time. It was not just for the Arabs, but for all of mankind. It should therefore be a religion that moves with the times, and is not stagnant in 6^th Century Arabia.

I love Native Deen, Maher Zain, Seven8Six (nasheed pop) and all other nasheed group who express their devotion to God in the way that they feel fit. They give Islam more of a modern feel, something to take with you wherever you go and whatever you do and an identity that you can proudly convey to an ever changing world. Will someone please let me know if they find an Islamic Rock Band (~^,).

Check out some of these nasheed artists on YouTube

Maher Zain

Native Deen

Seven8six

Mesut Kurtis

Outlandish (My favourite at the moment - belong more to the world music genre than nasheed)

Kareem Salama (World Music)

Raihan

What’s the difference between a B.A. Student and a Pizza?

What’s the difference between a B.A. Student and a pizza? I remember the joke as clearly as if it was told to me just now. It was in my third year at campus that I heard it. Apparently it was those Law students that went spreading this little jest about us Humanities students, and I must admit that I did have a good laugh when they said ‘a pizza can feed a family!’. At the heart of it, it was one of those mean, innocent little jokes that define the immaturity that is being a student. For me, however, this joke gave me a huge leap of maturity that took me back to something I should have learned many years before, when I was in high school.

The story has two main characters: First, there was me. A teenager. Obnoxious and self-centred. Right through my schooling career, I was always somewhere on top of my class. In fact, I was always the almost perfect student; did most of my Science stream subjects on higher grade, ended fifth out of 120 candidates in Matric, Head Boy. I was prodigy, and believed that if I could do it, who couldn`t? Right?

And then there was my friend, Megan, who did very few of her General stream subjects on higher grade. In fact, according to me at the time, her subject choices were a joke in itself. I mean, for one, she did Dance. Is that even worthy of being called a subject? Why would you want to waste brain cells on that?

One day she asked me to help her study for her Dance paper. I felt really irritated, and more so because she was struggling to memorise simple things like the positions of the bones in the foot...seriously? For me, that was it. That was the day I told her that she was stressing about things that are too easy to bat an eye about. That I did all my subjects on higher grade. That I didn’t complain half as much as her about my work. That If I can do it, why couldn’t she?

Years later, I`ve come to realise that ‘a pizza can feed a family’ was just the Universe`s way of saying to me ‘Karma`s a bitch’. When we are up there on our hill houses, looking down at the lives of people ‘down below’, we usually think that they have it way too easy and that they are not working hard enough to get to ‘the top, where we are’. Our shoes become way too comfortable for us and we never think of trying on something different and seeing whether we could fit into someone else`s pair.

Initially I didn`t want to attend UWC. I didn`t even apply there at first. The only two places for me would either be Stellenbosch or UCT. Indeed I only made a full application to Stellenbosch, and was prepared to become an ‘All Powerful’ Matie up until 2 weeks before the start of Orientation, which was when my parents first laid eyes on the quotation of fees.

That piece of paper was all it took to place me at the bottom of the pile; No Stellenbosch, No Science career. I was right in the position that I most loathed. But it wasn’t all that bad, hey, at least I was at a University and I was studying towards a degree. I was content until I heard that joke. Those Law students. I have a lot to thank them for.

Muslims have a prayer that we say when we look in the mirror. It goes ‘Oh Lord, you have beautified my body, so beautify my character as well’. For me the idea that God works in mysterious ways didn`t ring truer than it does to me right now.

With all the late nights I spent perfecting essays, I wonder at how many Law students could try and do three years of B.A. I know now that being at the bottom of the pack isn`t the walk in the park that the upper crust make it to be. I`m sure most attorneys earn truckloads more than humanities graduates, but that does not make us less relevant. Whether you are a Writer, Lawyer, Housewife or Street Sweeper, everyone`s contribution to the human race is a worthwhile one. We only realize this when things fall out of place. It was the Counting Crows who sang ‘You don`t know what you got till it’s gone’.

I guess the scariest part of it is that the higher up we are, the less we think it is likely for us to fall. But it is always the tallest trees that fall the hardest.