Student Protest

“Now, that’s a strange sound,” I thought, lying in my bed at 10 PM on a Thursday night.
“By now I’ve become accustomed to almost all of them, the footsteps, goats, chickens scratching. The loud whine of nails against iron as the roof expands and contracts under sunlight and shade. But this sounds almost like charcoal burning. Yes, that’s it, charcoal popping.”
Eyes open staring at the ceiling I focused all energy on listening. Failing to distinguish and audible signs of motion through my wall, I reasoned, “Well, if nobody has entered my compound, the hell with it, I’m sleeping.”
Was the darkness through my window a degree lighter? An optical illusion? The shrill pierce of our school guard’s whistle rocked me bolt upright and already moving. Previous reflection aside, I immediately what to expect. Out my front door and around the side of my house, our school goat herd ran past me, bleating as their ropes trailed, freed from their flaming enclosure. One guard was running full tilt up the hill to the village, the other impotently running back and forth between a hut the size of a small house, our goat shed, and a small toilet. Their grass roofs blazed with such audible fury that it was already clear their destruction would be near total. The flames leapt hungrily across the dry grass of these drafty enclosures. Flinging open the door to my courtyard, I cast the first two buckets of water before any students had arrived, and then stopped, merely watching as the inevitable outcome unfolded as predicted at first glance.
My attitude then, as now, 1 day later, is of resigned depression. I was confused. Who had done wrong? Was this directed at me (given the building’s proximity to my own) or the school? Regardless, had some injustice so deep been done that it could not have been rectified in another way? I had heard of “riots”, “vandalism”, and yes, even fires at other schools. But was it really necessary to burn 3 of my school’s buildings? Beyond passive reflection, I also regret not immediately jumping up and catching the offender in the act.
The following day, it was revealed in meeting that students had also entered the school’s coffee farm and cut the most promising trees, a full year’s investment of student time and energy.  Those responsible gave and left no reason for such destruction. Perhaps most disturbing, no concensus or even real idea came up at the staff meeting. Entering the Senior classrooms, each student was asked to write a letter summarizing their knowledge of the event- no leads.
“The reasons will come to light, no doubt, do not worry. This is how community works here.” I was reassured.
I only praise fate that my own roof is of metal (who knows what might have happened), and conclude:
“Build your roof of metal, not of grass, it burns too quickly.”


Student Protest 2

The second fire was much less dramatic. Five days after the first, the scrubland surrounding our school was set ablaze, dry grass quickly scorched as the flames were spread by a strong wind. Again, it was night. Again, I was the first on the scene.
Cooking dinner, my neighbors raised their voices high enough to intrude on my solitude. “Kuna ajali shuleni!” (There’s an accident at the school). I sprinted, seeing flickering light and smoke rising from the school. Gaining the parade ground, I saw that the fire was not among the buildings, but the ferocity of flames, proximity of buildings, and the absence of anyone doing anything prompted me to beat the school bell (a tire rim on a log) until the head of my homemade club fell off. Students came from surrounding quarters, quickly extinguishing the fire.
Clearly the problem was not resolved, despite my Headmaster’s emergency return (a single day) to discuss the matter with students.  The staff remain quiet. The students remain quiet.