RIOHACHA, COLOMBIA: TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5
Guilt for gluttony drives me back to Escuela Britanica. An indigenous gatekeeper, eight years old, directs me to park in the shade of a mango tree. He shows me to the Principal's office. The principal is the owner, a Mrs Cohen. She is Colombian from Cartagena. Her mother is Catholic and she was raised a Catholic.
English is an essential of executive employment. English is a low priority of State schools. Private lessons are way beyond the financial reach of indigenous students. The Escuela Britanica is Mrs Cohen's attempt to fill the gap. It is a one-woman charity. It is admirable. Mrs Cohen is a warm intelligent woman. Her funds are limited. She needs a volunteer teacher. She can house and feed a teacher. A volunteer can obtain paying work at the two Universities where Mrs Cohen has good relationships.
The job offers an opportunity to interact with the indigenous population.
Riohacha is a safe town.
Beaches are good.
It is a great base from which to explore the Secret City to the west and the Guajira peninsular.
Readers, please pass the word...
Showing posts with label Escuela Britanica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Escuela Britanica. Show all posts
Monday, January 14, 2008
WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH, MEN GO TO LUNCH
RIOHACHA: TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5
A State University and a private University are side by side on the left hand side of the highway a few kilometres prior to the coastal town of Riohacha. The Universities compete for students from Colombia's indigenous population. The ESCUELA BRITANICA is across from the Universities on the right hand side of the road. Bougainvillea and hibiscus spill over a once-white wall. The wall encloses a tree-shaded garden, untidy buildings.
The school nags as I ride on into Riohacha. A proper writer of fact would have investigated.
The offices of the Insurance company are closed for a two hour lunch. I sit a while on the steps beside a fruit cart, drink juice, eat a melon and chat with the cart's owner. He is a young man, married with two children. He scraped a living in Cartagena for a couple of years as a freelance tourist guide before returning to Riohacha. The drop in violence brought him back. Guerrillas and paramilitaries are in retreat. Most of the country is safe. The economy has picked up. He can support his family.
And he gives me information: Colombia, the clocks an hour behind Venezuela.
I must wait a further hour for offices to open.
I recall a friend's motto: When the going gets tough, men go for lunch.
A State University and a private University are side by side on the left hand side of the highway a few kilometres prior to the coastal town of Riohacha. The Universities compete for students from Colombia's indigenous population. The ESCUELA BRITANICA is across from the Universities on the right hand side of the road. Bougainvillea and hibiscus spill over a once-white wall. The wall encloses a tree-shaded garden, untidy buildings.
The school nags as I ride on into Riohacha. A proper writer of fact would have investigated.
The offices of the Insurance company are closed for a two hour lunch. I sit a while on the steps beside a fruit cart, drink juice, eat a melon and chat with the cart's owner. He is a young man, married with two children. He scraped a living in Cartagena for a couple of years as a freelance tourist guide before returning to Riohacha. The drop in violence brought him back. Guerrillas and paramilitaries are in retreat. Most of the country is safe. The economy has picked up. He can support his family.
And he gives me information: Colombia, the clocks an hour behind Venezuela.
I must wait a further hour for offices to open.
I recall a friend's motto: When the going gets tough, men go for lunch.
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