Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I had the opportunity to give a talk at a school. I had been asked to tell the sixty pupils of the Collège d’Excellence about my journey. This is the best school in Grand Popo, a picturesque village right on the coast of the Bight of Benin.
Compared with the other schools in the village, it did indeed look impressive. It had been built a few years earlier with Chinese funding. You could hardly miss that: a large painted Chinese flag on the first school building, clearly visible from the road. There were four identical buildings on the school grounds, arranged in a square. The Beninese flag fluttered on a pole in the middle of the courtyard. The first building contains the teachers’ rooms, the second the classrooms, the third the canteen, and the fourth… Well, that is where the interesting story lies. Inside are thirty computers, donated to the school by the Chinese state amid considerable publicity. There was a celebration. Politicians and representatives of the sponsors came and posed for photographs. The children clapped enthusiastically, and the parents were proud that their children could attend this particular school.
There is just one tiny problem with the computers. The school is not connected to the local electricity grid. Yes, you read that correctly: the school has no electricity, and the computers have spent two years sitting in their original boxes, slowly going to waste. At some point their operating systems will certainly be out of date. The headteacher swears that getting electricity to the school is his first priority. But I heard that he has been saying this for two years. With no result. The Collège d’Excellence shines in the quality of its teaching. Unfortunately, not in IT.
But back to my ‘Hour of Glory’. I was supposed to arrive at the school on my motorcycle, the ‘Great Traveller’ telling the children about his adventures first-hand. So I put on all my riding gear and rode over.
I parked outside the school grounds because lessons had not finished yet. I intended to make a suitably impressive entrance. I pictured it: the children waiting in the courtyard, me riding into the middle, giving the engine a quick rev, putting down the side stand, getting off slowly and confidently, removing my adventure helmet. The children would applaud enthusiastically.
But things turned out quite differently. The headteacher had another plan. He wanted the glory for himself. He came over, hopped onto my motorcycle without asking permission and made to start it. I hesitated for a moment. To be honest, I could not have cared less about the ‘glory’. I was worried about my bike. It weighs a fair bit, and the headteacher did not look as though he spent his spare time at the gym. Above all, his legs did not seem long enough for my bike. In the end, though, I did not want to spoil his fun and allowed Mr Headteacher to ride it.
Unfortunately, the situation unfolded just as I had feared. He set off and only just managed to make it into the courtyard. The children began clapping and jumping up and down with excitement. Mr Headteacher then rode up onto a kerb and toppled over with an almighty crash. His hoped-for moment of glory had gone spectacularly wrong. The children stopped clapping. I rushed to help, but too late. The bike was on the ground, and the headteacher was looking on in dismay. We picked up the motorcycle and, without comment, asked the children to go into the classroom.
Now it was my turn to tell the children about my journey. The English teacher translated into French. Normally the headteacher would have interpreted, but he no longer seemed to feel like it.
I told them about the long preparations, the countless books I had read and the countless films about Africa I had watched. I talked about the countries I had already visited and my plans for the rest of the journey. I wanted to show the children that dreams always come true if you believe in yourself and work hard to make them happen. I also showed them my protective clothing and talked about how important safety is on the road. I wanted to set a good example. Of course, I do not know whether my story changed anything in their minds. But I very much hope that one or two of them will start to think that wild ideas and dreams can become reality.
After my talk it was Barbara’s turn. She teaches art. She used me and my story as a theme and an excuse to encourage the children to think about their own dreams and wishes and put them on paper.
Of course, I owe my school appearance to Barbara’s initiative. She uses every opportunity to inspire the children and show them something out of the ordinary. She is the kind soul of Grand Popo. She teaches art, a subject in which the children can let themselves go with their painting. She says that ‘normal’ lessons restrict their creativity, whereas when they paint they can do anything. ‘The more unusual their pictures, the better,’ she always says. I was allowed to watch and photograph the children as they painted.
I want to write a separate article about Barbara. She more than deserves it! For now I will just add that the children of Grand Popo love her endlessly. And she has dedicated her life to the children here.