Being in the gym a lot I can't help but compare us to rodents running circles on our human equivalent of hamster wheels. I think a lot about the people who develop their muscles as a result of physical labor and what this means for the collective human psyche that finds muscles attractive. It's easy to imagine muscles being a sign of someone who is hard working and able to provide for a family.
In our modern age, with intellect being the greater value, we are forced to simulate the notion of manual labor with all manor of motorized and iron contraptions. I often imagine the farmers and field workers and construction guys shaking their heads in a wonder at us, the over privileged gym members who not only have time but also spend money to replicate what for them is merely a day's work.
I can never forget the Congolese women, sitting under the shade of a tree, tapping out stones with small hammers. My inspiration for well defined arms. Those women were buff.
I know it comes at the price of long, tiring days with little pay. The proof of their arduous labor sculpted into their physique.
These are the kind of thoughts that roam through my mind when I notice young girls with well formed arms. The kind of thoughts I had when I looked up from my computer one afternoon and noticed the 12 year old girl sitting at the table had noticeable arm muscles. As much as muscles can be on a tall, skinny frame.
Earlier this summer, Christine's oldest daughter, Melissa, came back from the village. She hadn't received the school marks needed to pass on to the next grade and so Christine thought it would be better to keep her here. Or something like that. I have a perpetual sensation of feeling like I never truly understand the fine details. It could easily be that she wanted someone to help her around the house. My house and hers, which is where my problem comes in.
It has been a lot of fun having her around the house to play with the kids, who are honestly like a couple of twins by now. Mbalia loves "talking" to Melissa on the "phone" and Melissa has the patience to do this for hours. She totes her baby brother around on her back and helps her mom with chores. She appears, like so many African girls, quiet, calm and happy most of the time. Always (a little too) ready to clear away, clean up and pitch in with whatever task is at hand.
But she can't read. She's 12 years old and still in 3rd grade. Somewhere along the way, something in the school system broke down. The hint of her muscular arms suggests a more complicated story. I wonder how often she actually made it to class and what happened after school. Christine already mentioned there was no one to support her with homework, although at 12 this should be mostly an independent thing.
Melissa is not confident with all of the letter names and sounds either. With such a huge delay, the question is whether there is a learning disability or if it is just lack of attendance. You can't learn if you're not there. Sometimes you can't learn even if you are there.
We went to visit the public school where she'd been enrolled before going to stay in the village. We were hoping for a summer program. Instead we found a collection of run down, closed up buildings. Random over sized bowls of laundry were scattered about. There weren't any (awake) people, though a glimpse of a dangling arm could be seen through a slightly open door.
We headed over to another school in the neighborhood, Mimy's "International" School (the quotes are mine. It seems en vogue to put 'international' in the school title though it is not often clear what merits such a lofty claim.) Here we found colorful walls, open doors and a real live person sitting in the director's chair.
The summer program seemed incredibly affordable (to me, Christine remarked it was a little expensive.) I can't speak to quality, but the director was friendly and the office showed signs of student success. We signed Melissa up and arranged tutoring sessions with someone in the neighborhood. He will come three times a week to try and provide the basic support needed to help her get caught up. One girl child on the road to education and literacy (strong arms included.)
