A moment in history

A group of small hands are flung into the air; in answer as Ms Ralo points to the black board. Next door books are read in twos and in due-time the playground will burst into life for a mid-morning break.

On route to Bathurst, 30 kilometres from Grahamstown, there are two buildings facing one another. Situated on the Klipkop Farm in the Eastern Cape, is the Wilson’s Party Farm School. This school, named after a British settler’s party, is a primary institution with 51 pupils and three teachers.

Small it may be, but not for long. From next year the Department of Education will set in motion a rationalisation of farm schools in the surrounding area. The schools in Fairview and Martindale will move to Wilson’s Party’s school grounds merging as one.

Is this the end of farm schools? Wilson’s Party’s headmistress Ms Sijadu seems to think so, because next year’s numbers will still not reach the minimum amount of a ‘normal’ government classified primary school – 135 pupils. She says that if people have to move due to this change, they would rather move to the township; then the school numbers will drop completely.

Ms Sijadu believes that the main reason why people choose to stay in rural areas is due to their culture, tradition and family. “It is when you are born here and your forefathers stayed here,” she explains. Economically it makes more sense to live on a farm than in town, as people can rely directly on their surroundings for subsistence. “Even though people do pay for electricity, at least some things are free,” she adds. They have more space for vegetable gardens and can live off sustainable farming for instance.

However, recently more people have been moving to towns in the area. “They are moving to the townships, so times are changing,” Sijadu explains. “They want the township life, so they go there, but then they struggle to find jobs. So they end up commuting back to the farms for work.”

The rationalisation of the schools may affect this in a positive way. The merging means more money for the school and better teaching methods, which could encourage people to stay for their children’s sake. Ms Sijadu and Ms Ndabambi are currently teaching three grades, all mixed into one class. However, if they combine with the other schools, there will be more teachers and each grade can be taught on its own in separate classrooms.

For the rest of the year, Wilson’s Party will still be a typical farm school; where huge classrooms are filled scantily by small groups of children, where boys play soccer with bricks stacked as goals, and where pupils walk to school through neighbouring farmlands. Here is a look at a moment in history.

Hlumelo Thembani stands in front of the blackboard in his classroom, at the Wilson’s Party Farm School in the Eastern Cape. Lhumelo is in Grade 4 and is one of 51 learners at the school. The institution was started in 1964 and is situated on the Klipkop farm, 17 kilometres outside of Bathurst.

The grade R and the Grade 1 learners at the Wilson’s Party Farm School practice maths with their teacher Ms Ralo. Because they only have three teachers at the school, they each have to teach two or three grades combined in the same classroom. “Three grades in one class is incredibly time consuming, you don’t even use a timetable,” Headmistress Ms Sijadu says. Sometimes they even use the same material for different grades.

Grade R pupil gets one-on-one time with her teacher Ms Ralo during a maths lesson. Even though there is a big difference between the size, location and the appearance of farm schools and urban schools, the same curriculum is used to teach the children. However, the advantage of a farm school is this individual attention the pupils receive.

The Grade R and 1 learners are excused from class for their lunch break, which is around 10 am every morning. Because of the combination of grades in the same classes and the lack of a time table, the school rarely runs on a tight schedule when it comes to lunchtime, playtime and home time.

The view of the school buildings from afar. The teachers used to live in the school years ago, but due to regular break-ins, they have been commuting since 2005, the same year Ms Sijadu became Headmistress. “I used to stay maybe 2 to 3 days and then go home, but I found that it is not safe for two ladies to stay here alone. I decided I’m going to live at home and drive through every day,” she explains.

Nosakhe Thembani, Hlumelo’s mother, is about to serve the children their daily meal, while they quickly say a prayer for what they are about to receive. Every child receives a plate of food, from Grade R to Grade 7. The money for this school nutrition plan is provided by the Department of Education, which is for buying food, paying for the gas and paying Ms Thembani. The school receives R31 000 a year, which is given to them in instalments every three months.

Lhumelo plays netball with younger pupils while an older boy plays soccer with his friends. The soccer boys make their own goal posts by stacking bricks around old chair frames. Although the school does offer the children netball, soccer and cricket, it is difficult to build teams and maintain regular practices with the small number of pupils. However, when the school merges with Fairview and Martindale in 2014, the sport teams may improve.

A pupil rings the home time bell outside of the teachers’ office. The bell informs the children that they should assemble in front of the office, where they sing a couple of songs and pray before they say their goodbyes.

Lhumelo and Lusi Hoyi, his cousin, walk home after school. They live on a farm close to the school and therefore do not need to take the bus. Hlumelo’s mother also walks to the school and back every morning and afternoon, but the pathway is safe enough for Hlumelo and other children to walk without adult supervision.

On the way home Hlumelo picks Isipingo berries (Scutia myrtina), which have a slightly sour taste with a bitter pip. He warns me not to eat too many, because it may upset my stomach; similar to the summer season’s prickly pears. “You will end up in hospital,” Ms Ndabambi confirms with a giggle.

Hlumelo approaches his home after walking from school. The Thembani family have been living in the area for 19 years and have been living in their current house for the last seven years. Their house has a rain water tank and electricity, which makes life in a rural area easier.

The Thembani family’s clothes blow in the wind while hanging on the washing line outside their house. Their house as well as the school is located in an area which is badly sheltered from the wind, giving the place a gusty atmosphere.

Nosakhe and Hlumelo hang their washed clothes on a fence one kilometre away from the house, as it provides more space for their washing. They also use a nearby dam to collect water for their laundry.

Tukutuku Macota, a family friend, polishes the house’s floor with Ukisinda, a traditional type of floor polish made from cow dung and water. It is a great hygienic way of cleaning the floor and insolating the mud surface, which in the long run keeps critters out of the house.

Hlumelo stands next to a three-legged iron pot being used to cook Imphepho roots (Helichrysum petiolare), which their family uses for high blood pressure. Imphepho, which means ‘air for the spirits’, has various uses and is believed to have magical powers. It is also burnt like incense to call on ancestors for protection.

After coming home from school, Hlumelo eats his lunch while watching television in the bedroom - an afternoon ritual. In the kitchen next door, Kayona Macota plays on the floor. Next to the switched-off television, cooked mielie meal and water ferments; turning into Umdoko.

Hlumelo stands in front of the house where he has spent most of his life. Even though he realises their life is not easy, he prefers the simplicity of living in a rural area. He prefers the tranquillity, the fairly safer lifestyle and being able to climb trees for fun.