A Boy Like An Old Soul

porridge keeps him going…

Mazuba Mwiinga

He wakes up in the morning around 5:30 a.m. Takes a bath in one of the latrines outside. Dresses up in a red and white checked shirt, tucks it in, in a navy-red trousers, and steps out of his room into the next one; finds himself space on a desk, sits and pays attention to the teachers’ lessons for the day. His dream is to become a pilot. Such a life somewhere in the city, is known as ‘soft life’. That’s exactly what it sounds like; but is it?

Picture it this way. You are born in a family of four. You, your sister, mother and father. Happy, isn’t it? Probably any kind of struggle wouldn’t matter much, for your collective responsibilities maybe the centre of your motivation. Suddenly, your father passes on. There is only you, your sister and your mother. Voidness kicks in. In the turn of events, your mother finds someone to replace your father. You are all happy. Right? At least the emptiness is covered. Sounds like a Hollywood film script. Ngosa, 15, a Grade 6 pupil at Sefu Primary School in Eastern Province of Zambia has the right to say it as it is.

“I stay in that office. My father died in 2015. Later my mother remarried, and we moved in with our step father. Life was okay at first, but later my father didn’t want me around. That’s how my mother asked me to come here at school and ask for a place to stay. The madam, (teacher at the school) allowed me to stay in that office, until I find somewhere else to go.”

Ngosa’s eloquence is amazing for his age. No doubt he knows exactly what he is talking about, and what is happening to him. The office he stays in has not been used by the school for a very long time. Its walls need repainting, inside, out. The roof isn’t in its best condition either. He has no mattress, so he spreads a white sheet on the floor and spends his nights there. He has a bucket of water, two pots and three plates and three cups, with a few pieces of clothes. What makes one fail to understand, is his lively demeanour. If you met him on the road, you surely wouldn’t know his current situation. He almost spring walks like one up a podium for an electric oratory. He never stops keeping his eyes on the books too.

“I want to become a pilot when I complete my education.” His eyes are beaming with a convincing tenacity right in the camera in front of him. He is definitely driving home a point. Suddenly he changes into a reflex of emphatic gestures.

“I want to help my family. My family is suffering. Imagine it can’t help me even to buy notebooks. I have to go out to do piece-works to raise just a K20 to buy exercise books.” He instantly drops his hands, and his eyes stare at me, just above the video camera I am operating. He runs his tongue on his lips before responding to my next question.

“The Mary’s Meals porridge has tremendously helped me. I don’t know how I can thank you for bringing this food at this school. I depend on it every day. When I eat a cup at lunch time, I don’t know where the next meal will come from. It has helped many other children around this school. Almost everyone comes here hungry, but they go home full. My plea is that they should continue bringing this food here or else many children will stop coming to school. I am very grateful to them.”

Ngosa is among the more than 400,000 learners under the Mary’s Meals School Feeding Programme in 742 schools in 11 districts of Eastern Province. The programme provides a daily meal to the learners at their places of education every school day since 2014 in Zambia, and 2002 globally.

I walk him behind a classroom block for a photo shoot. His poses are invigorating. Jovial and upbeat. Then my heart sinks in cold blood. As we walk back to join the rest of the pupils, I pat him at the back with soft words: ‘you will make it young man.’ It is a mistake. He bursts into tears. I quickly stand in front of him, blocking him from public view and let him breathe. Seconds later, he looks at me, with a smile. And it is my turn for shimmering eyes. I have to quickly turn away from him like a gecko that has lost grip of a wall it is climbing on.

The following day would be a Friday. The day after a Saturday. I am scared to ask him, where he will find the food over the weekend. I am not ready to hear his response. He is stronger than I am. A truly great man in the appearance of a boy. Just like an old soul.

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