I really wasn't sure how that would work out- and heard several stories in the interim of other families experiencing the same dilemma. Their nannies were not asked back, simply let go. As a woman who suffered the same fate just a year ago, I felt the injustice all too close to home. If she was willing to come back, I guess I was willing to have her.
The small bump- she brought a nanny along with her- to take care of the little guy while she was busy taking care of my growing princess. Christine is the only nanny that Mbalia was sad to see go. She paid us visits throughout her wait for delivery and also just after. Mbalia cried every time she left. Because she has been with Mbalia since birth, there is a clear attachment.
Christine's nounou is a young girl. At first inquiry, I was told she was about 13. The second inquiry bumped her age up to 'around 15.' Either way, she is too young, newly arrived in the city from the "village." The ever elusive and always present "village," where people go to 'rest and heal,' to visit family and escape from to the city.
She doesn't speak much French and apparently came in search of work. A teenager. She stays with her older sister and now, she works for my nounou.
I struggled with mixed feelings for awhile. How can I have such a young girl here in my house, taking care of children and not going to school? What is my responsibility in this matter and how do I really feel about it?
The scary part is, it might be easy to just accept it - thinking, 'that is what they do.' Abidjan is really knocking the life out of me. But who are 'they' and why is this the only choice available?
Christine herself did not go to school. Her mother was a farmer and so she was rasied to cook and clean and keep things tidy while her mother worked in the fields. Yes, the 'fields' here in M'puto- home of lettuce farmers.
I still wondered what to do about this. After awhile, I wondered why I was even wondering. Of course there is only one solution. When I mentioned it to Christine she told me that she thought the girl was pregnant. My heart sank - literally. I felt it plummeting right out of my chest cavitiy and landing somewhere around my feet. "All the more reason for her to be educated," I said.
The plan is really for both of them to benefit. Christine said there is a night school in the neighborhood and she plans to go. "Yes," I agreed, "it is a great idea. A good intention. But is it possible? I know what it is like to get home from work. There is the baby and cooking and cleaning your own house. It is a good intention, but is it possible? Better to have someone come here during the day. I know you both have time." I am a little playful, but I suspect there is a lot more TV watching going on during the daytimes than actual down and out scrubbing.
So I have now been on the search for a tutor. Cours domicile is quite popular in Abidjan. Our neighbor children have a teacher come once or twice a week- honestly I am not sure how often he comes- but occasionally I see them sitting under the tree learning their lessons on a large black board propped up on a table.
I am in search of a tutor- but not just anyone, a real teacher who will help this girl, and this lady, to make progress in their language and literacy. What else can I do?
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| Schoolhouse tree |
