Schaffer's Glasses

One other interesting thing that’s happened recently was 2 nights ago, I went to see my host sister, Schaffer, at her boarding school. She’s 9 years old and before she went back to school she was the female that spoke the best English in our household (we can usually communicate simple things to her aunt and mother, but it’s not the same). She’s had a lot of problems at school because she has terrible eyesight. She had some glasses that enabled her to see the blackboard, but the other children thought she was being too showy, too ostentatious with her posh eyewear and so they smashed them. This is why she had to come home and how we came to meet her. She couldn’t stay forever though, blind or otherwise and so eventually she was sent back on the basis that she could still listen to the teacher even if she couldn’t see. There is a New Zealander who came to visit here in 2007. He still has very good relations with the household and funds Schaffer’s glasses. He doesn’t mind how many times she needs new ones and magnanimously replaces them as long as she gets to continue her education. As we were missing Schaffer at home, we went along to join her father as he delivered the glasses. It was a very nice task. Of course there was much excitement that 3 white ladies had shown up at the school and Schaffer was extremely shy. I felt that maybe I shouldn’t have come because the eyes of the school are more attention than any 9 year old should have to bear (particularly given that being a show off is the reason her glasses were smashed in the first place). Anyway, my moral worries aside, it was nice to be shown the classroom. It was dimly lit and there was a big blackboard. The desks, benches and floor were all made of wood; it was typical of the schools I’ve seen in Kenya and Fiji. Schaffer sat down in her usual place: the centre of the front row. She put her glasses on and we all watched as she started to read the board aloud, very slowly. The audience was big, it was composed of her father, teacher, us volunteers and then most of the children of the school, amassed in a semicircular crowd. Watching her able to read again was a very touching moment (in hindsight I’m surprised that I didn’t find it more emotional). Then I crouched down next to her, so my eyeline was the same as hers; I took my glasses off and tried to read the board. I couldn’t do it. As is often the way for people with eyes like mine, one or two words jumped out at me while others remained totally illegible. It was therefore rather unfortunate that the only thing I could read aloud to everyone was “Vomiting. Severe vomiting”. Although this was quite funny I also found it quite moving. I wondered how many children there are in this country who can’t see the board in their classroom. I’m lucky enough to be quite accomplished academically speaking, but had I been born in Uganda I certainly would have been a disaster. Probably an illiterate disaster. I’d quite like to support a charity that helps children to be able to see well enough to learn. I’ll have to look into it and see what my options are. But then at the same time, perhaps there are bigger fish to fry, like getting more children into schools at all. I’ll have to think about this… I know what my problem is – I can’t commit to any idea!