Last month I wrote about my visit to Sthe's house, a place of safety for the children of Imbali J. The project is actually called Izimabli Zisizwe (Nation of Flowers). Imbali J is the name of the neighborhood it serves.
I went back to speak with Sthe about restarting an arts program. Mary and Gugu were there to help improve the Izimbali Zisizwe business plan, with the goal of attracting a new funder. I only had a few logistical questions to ask Sthe – how many kids, what ages, and what day and time should I come – but she insisted I speak with the children directly.
A few minutes later she instructed me to go outside where her daughter had gathered everyone together. When I walked out of the front door I was greeted by about 30 smiling faces, all sitting quietly, eagerly awaiting my questions. "Sanibonani," I said to them, to which they replied with a resounding, "YEBO!" I asked, "Would you like for me to come and teach you art?" They replied with cheering and applause. (Affirmative.) More cheering and applause followed after Sthe's daughter translated. Well, now I've really done it; there's no way I can back out now. But really, why would I?
After I confirmed their interest, I had to come up with some other questions – they were all sitting so nicely, paying very careful attention. So I asked their ages – how many of you are 5 years old...6...7... I asked if the older children would be willing to assist the younger ones. I asked if they had pencils, scissors and glue. With each question, they grew increasingly excited. Then, came my turn to answer questions. What if we don't have scissors or glue? When will we start? Do we have to pay? What should we do if we can't come because we have funeral to attend? Wait. What? Did an 8 year old really just say that?
In the flurry of excitement around art projects and supplies, I had almost forgotten where these children come from. An 8 year old from Imbali J has likely attended more funerals than I have.
After I thanked them, "Ngiyabonga!" I rejoined Mary and Gugu back inside and set to work on editing the business plan. I haven't the slightest idea of how a good business plan should be composed (that's why I'm the art teacher), but I couldn't just sit there; the importance of Sthe's project was staring me in the face. Paper mache' piggie banks might make the children happy for a short time, but they won't change their lives. The real work is in coming up with a plan (and a specific individual) to sustain Izimbali Zisizwe.
To anyone who reads this, if you have any clever ideas for simple art projects that require minimal supplies, please leave them in the comments. And even better, if you know anyone who might be interested in supporting Izimbali Zisizwe, please contact me. Ngiyabonga!
I went back to speak with Sthe about restarting an arts program. Mary and Gugu were there to help improve the Izimbali Zisizwe business plan, with the goal of attracting a new funder. I only had a few logistical questions to ask Sthe – how many kids, what ages, and what day and time should I come – but she insisted I speak with the children directly.
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| In Sthe's dining room – Gugu (Lion), Me (Elephant) and Mary (Leopard) |
A few minutes later she instructed me to go outside where her daughter had gathered everyone together. When I walked out of the front door I was greeted by about 30 smiling faces, all sitting quietly, eagerly awaiting my questions. "Sanibonani," I said to them, to which they replied with a resounding, "YEBO!" I asked, "Would you like for me to come and teach you art?" They replied with cheering and applause. (Affirmative.) More cheering and applause followed after Sthe's daughter translated. Well, now I've really done it; there's no way I can back out now. But really, why would I?
After I confirmed their interest, I had to come up with some other questions – they were all sitting so nicely, paying very careful attention. So I asked their ages – how many of you are 5 years old...6...7... I asked if the older children would be willing to assist the younger ones. I asked if they had pencils, scissors and glue. With each question, they grew increasingly excited. Then, came my turn to answer questions. What if we don't have scissors or glue? When will we start? Do we have to pay? What should we do if we can't come because we have funeral to attend? Wait. What? Did an 8 year old really just say that?
In the flurry of excitement around art projects and supplies, I had almost forgotten where these children come from. An 8 year old from Imbali J has likely attended more funerals than I have.
After I thanked them, "Ngiyabonga!" I rejoined Mary and Gugu back inside and set to work on editing the business plan. I haven't the slightest idea of how a good business plan should be composed (that's why I'm the art teacher), but I couldn't just sit there; the importance of Sthe's project was staring me in the face. Paper mache' piggie banks might make the children happy for a short time, but they won't change their lives. The real work is in coming up with a plan (and a specific individual) to sustain Izimbali Zisizwe.
To anyone who reads this, if you have any clever ideas for simple art projects that require minimal supplies, please leave them in the comments. And even better, if you know anyone who might be interested in supporting Izimbali Zisizwe, please contact me. Ngiyabonga!
How about vegetable stamping? http://goo.gl/BCpIk
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