Physical Education - Rwandan Style

Over the last year of visiting schools, I have witnessed a few sports activities.  It is certainly a little different here...there are no fancy gymnasiums or changing facilities.  The outside areas of schools are not carefully organised with running tracks and netball courts and football fields and cricket greens which are lovingly tended throughout the hot dry months.  No, you will nearly always find a field.  But it will be bumpy and uneven. It will most likely have a volleyball net across it and sometimes you even see football goal posts fashioned out of local materials.  Many children bring their own ball to school.  These are made by inflating a condom and then wrapping banana leaves and twine around the outside to make it sturdy.

PE is not a subject on the curriculum. There is a lesson called COCA (which is basically cultural and physical education).  And during this, it is sometimes possible to see children doing sport.  They may also do crafts or singing.  When it comes to preparing for a PE lesson, there is no traipsing to the changing rooms to change into suitable attire for physical activity.  Children just do it in whatever they have worn to school (for girls – usually a blue dress and for boys – usually yellow/beige shorts and shirt).  Most children wear very simple plastic shoes.  These are often shed for the duration of this lesson with children preferring to run barefoot (I tried it – I was a baby about it and it hurt my feet too much).  Or – more bizarrely – children who run in their welly boots (well...it was raining in the morning, so that is what they have worn to school).  I have also seen children running whilst clutching their precious school bag to their chest – there is are certainly no changing room pegs to hang it up on.

Most recently, I have seen children in many schools preparing for a relay race (maybe there is going to be Sports Day soon?).  This has been great fun to watch.  The class are divided into two lines and stand at either end of the field.  The child at the top of the line is given a stick.  They must run up to the opposite end of the field, around the opposing team and back to the starting point where they hand over the stick/baton to the next student who repeats.  The teams run against each other and the excitement is immense – especially when a runner over-takes someone from the opposing team.  There is little difference at this time to any school around the world.  Children are jumping and cheering and screaming for their team to win.

In contrast to this I have seen some competitive sport between schools.  This seems to be rather more serious.  Teams arrive to the school in kit.  The example I was present at was on a day when I was meant to be observing lessons.  I had begun to do this in partnership with the Head Teacher.  During the second lesson he was very distracted by his mobile and had to leave to take some calls.  At the end of the lesson I discovered that this was because the opposition were on their way.  Once they arrived, lessons were cancelled and the entire school came out to cheer.  This did seem a little unfair for the opposition who had no cheering crowd, but it was very entertaining for me.  A group of students were on the volleyball pitch.  Everyone is crowded around the edge as the lines are drawn in the dust with a stick.  One crowd of girls is staring at me, rather than the game.  I am glad to know I still hold interest.  The team are wearing smart trainers and official gear.  They look quite the business.  The game is lively and at one point, our team begin making gestures on the ground to indicate that they are wiping the floor with the opposition.  The teachers whip up the crowd and there is singing and clapping and stomping.  We stand in clouds of dust.  The game is over and our win is celebrated with much whooping, stomping, cheering and dancing and we all head to the soccer field.  Want a good view?  Climb a tree.  Once again, a section of the crowd are content just to watch me, but I am not really doing anything of interest other than cheering on our team.  I am flanked on all sides by small, inquisitive people.  They dare each other to reach out and touch my skin.  My arm hair fascinates them.  They all ask the same questions; “What is your name?” (this most often comes out as “What is my name”), “How old are you?”, “Where are you from?”.  I answer these questions a hundred times and try asking a few of my own.  I get giggles in response.

We get back to the game.  The girls are playing football.  Our team are good, but the grass is so long I cannot see where the ball is half the time.  The crowd are still enjoying the sport and the opposition are doing their best amidst the screaming and cheering from our supporters.  Out of the dust clouds, my moto appears and it is home time.  I enjoyed watching the sport.  It is not so different to at home.  The technical gear may be less shiny and grand, but the atmosphere is great and everyone is enjoying it – and surely that should be what it is all about.