Seen But Not Heard

The day started with rain and a white sun. The field on which the refugees have been settled turned to sludge and in no time the 4X4 tracks had turned the central path and entrance to the camp into a quagmire. The rain pelted down and the camp residents huddled inside their plastic tents.

There were camera crews and photographers everywhere. One photographer was balancing on his scapula – yes, his shoulder-blade – ignoring the discomfort so that he could get the money shot. He’d been there an hour. A cameraman barrelled up the stairs of the school bus. “Where are you from?” I asked. “DSTV,” he replied. I stood my ground. “What Channel?” I insisted. “Channel O.” “That’s not a news channel, that’s a music channel; I think you’re in the wrong place.”

When Partson and I have a chance to chat, I suggest that the exposure of the children to the media should be limited, maybe a quarter of an hour in the morning and a quarter of an hour in the afternoon. There are definitely legitimate press who have been dedicated in their coverage of the displacement, but then there are crews who arrive without offering any credentials, not that there’s really a person designated to check the creds of anyone who arrives. One group I spoke to were from Wits Forced Migration Studies and another group that visited, without a camera crew, were from the Refugee Children’s Project.

The GDE have visited and so has UNICEF, the latter have ordered lap-desks for all the learners, very useful equipment since the school is no longer being hosted at the Methodist Church but in the top half of an orange and yellow double-decker bus. Penny M from GDE is a voice of reason and says unequivocally that we cannot really refer to the school as a ‘school’ because all sorts of official connotations come into play, but she encourages us to continue with the informal lessons. The National Toy Library delivers toys and instructs the teachers how to play with the children.

Because of the six-week time-frame before the children are either integrated into local schools or the government relocates the displaced, it has been decided that the focus of the formal education will be on English and Mathematics. Only five teachers will continue working at the school. Remuneration has been raised and it is agreed that we will utilise a third of the income in cash sponsorship for salaries for the teachers. They deserve it, they have been dedicated and enthusiastic from the time I made the call for teachers at City Hall.

The remaining Malawian refugees feel abandoned, their high commissioner no longer answers his cellphone when we call. It’s best to make the calls in front of them so that they can see that we don’t walk away and forget about them. In frustration I lead them to the side of the bus where the E-News reporters are huddled under an umbrella, I brief the relunctant news crew about the Malawian dilemma and say the Malawians won’t leave until someone listens. That’s the thing, nobody wants to listen to the displaced, their images are blazed over all the media but their voices are not unheard.