Three weeks
ago, we packed up our belongings and travelled to live and work in an African
village. We left the cold, dark, British winter, and widespread preparations
for what seems to have become an increasingly commercial festival of materialism,
excess and superficiality (Christmas!). We have replaced a fast pace of life
for one where small errands can take a whole morning, walking down dusty paths,
stepping by to let the donkey carts pass, exchanging increasing numbers of
greetings with the new friends we are making. Instead of Christmas excess, we
hear both tuneful and not so tuneful prayer calls five times a day from the
nearby mosques, and purchase only the essential items from the local market. In
many ways, it is a different world entirely. The change is refreshing, peaceful
and beautiful. The children seem so free. From morning to evening, they spend
hours running outside, playing intricate games with various kinds of stick or
leaf that they have found, and really using their imagination. They come home
grubby and hungrily eat some basic, unrefined food, then return to their adventures.
Ironically, I am a little more worried about their ‘culture shock’ on returning
to the UK than I was about bringing them here!
But perhaps
a bigger surprise has been how similar our life is here to that back ‘home’.
Since having children, we have consciously examined our lives and sought to
provide a solid foundation for them encompassing every aspect of their education.
We have stripped away unnecessary clutter, and sought to avoid excessive
exposure to unhelpful influences. We take care to live simply and within our
means, so that one parent can always be at home, and this too has influenced
many of our day to day lifestyle choices.
Freedom to
play. Do many children have that these days? Or have we replaced freedom and
imagination with structured activities aimed at developing certain skills in
our children? Do we stifle one of their most basic needs? And do we make a rod
for our own back by not allowing children to develop their imaginations and
resourcefulness?
Walking
many miles, keeping physically fit and therefore eating and sleeping well. Do we take time to walk, or does our hectic schedule force us to
use cars or public transport as we rush from one activity to the next? Do we
fret about rising rates of obesity and sedentary lifestyles, yet feel compelled
to follow the current trend?
Greeting
others in the neighbourhood. Do we get to know those who live near us? Do we
stop to spend time? Do we patronise local shops and services rather than
travelling further, and so build the sense of community? Does it really matter?
Do our children know any others than their own peer group? Could we make simple
changes to increase their security and confidence in relationships with a
diverse range of people?
Simple,
basic food. Do we buy seasonally? Are we resourceful in the recipes we choose?
Do we ensure the children receive excellent physical as well as academic
nutrition? Does our lifestyle allow time for this?
Time with
the children. Do we need to be as busy as we are? Are there any things which
are unnecessary clutter in our lives? What are the greatest priorities in our
lives? Is there anything which does not help in reaching these aims?
Living
within our means. What is most important? Is it a certain house, lifestyle,
holidays, other expensive things? Or is it really true that the ‘best things in
life are free’? We cannot have it all. Choices, at times sacrificial choices,
need to be made for what is most important.
A holistic
education. There is nothing my boys lack here. Every aspect of the sketchy ‘curriculum’
we follow is provided for here. (I use principles similar to those outlined by
Charlotte Mason’s philosophy of education as an atmosphere, a discipline and a
life, and basically try and make sure that we read every day, do Bible every day, and then keep a balance between other things throughout the week). Language comes from reading, and colourful descriptions of their
surroundings, the landscape, the birds, the smells, the sounds. Social
interaction is a part of daily life. Arithmetic and stewardship are achieved by
visits to the market. History and geography are met in response to the many
questions they ask. Cooking and craft, other creative arts, can be achieved
through the imaginative use of local resources. And so I could go on.
Here, in
the village, I feel content. The boys are thriving. Life seems whole and
balanced. I pray I can keep the same sense of purpose and priority in the face
of many conflicting clamorous voices back in the UK.