Teacher's Children: Nothing More than Peasant's Children

Pretty old picture. Tr. Alex Twinamatsiko (Chakubiribiri) handing over a certificate to the outgoing sports prefect in 2011.

I swore a couple of times never to ever look back to my primary education teachers. I felt like they enjoyed watching us in pain. Punishment by caning was the order of the day. This greatly influenced my selection for a high school to join. There is no way I was looking at joining a school that canes. Nevertheless, we may negligibly look at those punishments as something that has significantly shaped who we have become.

Regardless, we all had a couple of teachers we loved. One of my personal best primary teachers was my Primary Three Math teacher, who used to bring fruits, bread, and sweets. We used to call him Tr. Muzeeyi (the old teacher, with all due respect). You would receive a present if you correctly responded to a mathematical problem. I had to read over and over the backside of my Musana 98 paged book to cram the multiplication table. His lessons would begin with class hymns of 1x1 is 1, 1x2 is 2, 1x3 is 3, and progressively we would get to 12. That moment you would be selected to do a whole number's multiplication table was scary. Deep within, we would be casting prayers to be chosen to do the multiplication for 10.

Down the road, two years later, I was in Primary Five and soon would proudly be called a Sub Candidate. It's funny how this was a big deal; we firmly believed this was one of the most challenging classes in primary education. It kept us drawing the fish on the blackboard in the classroom and creating memory-ingrained songs about Shaka Zulu. During this time, we received a new Director of Studies(DOS), Mr. Twinamatsiko Alex, following the unfortunate death of our previous DOS (the late Tumwebaze James). Lively man, always swinging his keys, walked like a true Mukiga with energy bouncing off his toes before the heels touching the ground, and of course, he was a math nerd. During mass at Rushoroza Cathedral, he would clap as if seemingly dancing simultaneously. He had this joyful smile. He would soon be teaching me how to find the area of a circle and the area of a pentagon. This came with more canes. He appointed a student in charge of his eucalyptus canes. But there is a way he made sure that regardless of punishing you, you understood why. His time as a DOS was interesting as he soon gained the nickname Chakubiriri. During our final year in primary, he wedded the love of his life, and prefects attended on behalf of the student body. Young lovely couple. My most memorable moment with him was when we had "three weeks." This term referred to the additional three weeks the candidate class students had to take during holidays. We had some form of freedom in those three weeks, and we would wear our casual clothes brought from home instead of the school uniform. We had a lot of "posho and khedive (school-baked bread)" to eat.

This is what "Three weeks" meant to us. The boys would dress to kill in their casual clothes. Will leave the girls to your imagination. (2012)

During this particular three weeks, he gave us a mathematical holiday package. There within lie a quadratic equation. To a primary school child, this is unheard of. So I told my father I had a mathematical problem I needed help with. Honestly, I didn't know it was a quadratic equation. Regardless, my father solved it, and I crammed its working out. Finally, at school, I couldn't wait to shine in front of my classmates. I solved the equation on the blackboard, and he was so impressed. Later, he called me to the staffroom to understand if I had solved that equation alone. After a few lies and tales, I eventually told him my father had done it. He laughed and told me it was just a question to keep us checking on the package but not necessarily to be solved. It is beyond your level!

"Chakubiribiri" was just one of those teachers that most of us loved. I recall the days when we would do those traditional mystical things on him so that he doesn't cane us for a test we did. We would tie a stone in a string of grass to form a knot and drop it at the dining hall entrance in anticipation of him walking over it. He would come to class happy and forgive everyone who failed his test. The mystical things may not have caused that, but somehow it happened. We had many expulsions through the previous DOS' time, but he came with a different approach. I wonder how many boys would have completed primary education without the tough love this man imposed on them at school. The days if you were caught maybe speaking vernacular, he would laugh at you and let you be.

Alas, roughly ten years later, I am shattered to learn that he has fallen prey to Uganda's normalcy of teachers falling into abject poverty. Even in the pictures, you can still see his smile battling against the pain surrounding him. His wife passed on. He probably spent his last pennies trying to get his wife to get breast cancer treatment. He has four children stranded in a mud and wattle house, begging for a day's meal. What could have befallen a man with great wisdom and knowledge to offer the nation? His little pot belly has sunken. His four kids have dreams that keep him awake, searching for what is next. What happens to men and women that offer service to make us great?

We are talking about teachers. One of the LEAST paying professions in the country, yet one of the MOST needed services in the country. With the variations in the payment scale, primary teachers lay at the bottom. The literal meaning of peasant's child seems misplaced. Peasant farmers are more likely to have a higher monthly income turnover than teachers. It's absurd that the majority of these people that spend their time in class with us end up retiring to abject poverty and watch us reap the benefits of their sweat. Soon we become lawmakers, and the best we can do is a motion to the government to raise our wages by 100% and make promises to increase teachers' pay by a maximum of 5% for the Arts teachers and 15% for the Science teachers every ten years. We pretend like the growth of the economy and cost of living entirely have nothing to do with the income earned. We spend time as a nation arguing over each other's bedroom affairs but show no interest in discussing fundamental issues. We live in a system where some people have been subjected to a medical bill away from poverty. These woes will continue, and we shall care less; after all, we are not teachers, and what does it have to do with us now?

A picture I would have rather not shared. Let's bring hope to this family!

"Always remember people who have helped you along the way, and don't forget to lift someone up." ― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart.

St. Maria Goretti Primary School Rushoroza, Class of 2012, is collecting donations to support the family of Tr. Alex. Hopefully, this will be a kick starter to regain momentum and dust himself. Your contributions to help him and his four children are welcome, whether in kind or cash.

“We Rise by Lifting Others.”