My brother's keeper

"The kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till it was all leavened." [Matthew 13:33]

It has become somewhat of a ritual to tell the Aesop Fable, “The Rabbit and the Tortoise” when I anticipate a sharp drop in class attendance, like after the year-end festive season. Back in December 2007, half the class stopped coming after the Christmas and New Year break. Many young people travel to their hometowns to visit their families, and a handful may never come back to Dili. Some have valid reasons. They may be required at home, to look after ageing parents, care for young siblings or work in the fields. Others simply find it hard to come back to class after two weeks of glorious holidays.

So during the last class before the long holidays, I told the story of the rabbit and the tortoise to my module 1 students, to encourage them to remain committed to the process of learning.

After the class ended, a young man, Julio, came to talk to me privately. He explained that he would not be attending the course anymore, because he had to go back to his district to look after his sick mother. He was the oldest child, and that job fell unto him. Throughout, Julio’s head was bowed, and he spoke very softly. I thought he was going to cry.

I did my best to encourage him, and assured him that I would continue to teach here for a long time. Perhaps he might come back one day and repeat the course. He nodded and said he hoped to return sometime this year. On that sad note, we parted. Julio was one of the more outstanding students in the class. I had grown accustomed to his presence, and was encouraged by the steady progress he was making. I went home, feeling sad and somewhat defeated. Once again, I had lost a promising student to difficult family circumstances.

True enough, after the New Year holidays, I never saw Julio again. But when I updated my attendance sheet, I did not delete his name. Part of me hoped he would come back soon.

Often, in the war against poverty, I feel like a drowning man trying to keep my head above a tsunami wave. I feel as though all my efforts to lift this generation out of poverty are completely negated by the combination of social, cultural and economic circumstances that trap so many in a vicious cycle of deprivation.

Young people are held back from progress by just about everything. Someone dies in a far-flung district. A student has no choice but to miss classes for at least three weeks to participate in mandatory rituals. Another one falls sick from malaria and stops coming for weeks on end. Or if it’s not the student, it’s someone in his family who needs medical attention. Just a few weeks ago, a young woman called me at 7:45am to tell me that she was stuck in her hometown to look after her sick father, and couldn’t take her exams. Whatever the case may be, a myriad of circumstances make it extremely difficult for the young to live fruitful and productive lives.

Yet, amidst the gloom, God sends His encouragement.

Just a few days ago, I found out that Julio was the cousin of another very bright student in my module 2 class, Silverio (in photo). It turned out that the two of them lived together when Julio was in Dili, and that Silverio was the one who told Julio about our course.

I was pleasantly surprised to know that the two young men were related. I wonder what they shared with each other about the course, about me as a teacher, and whether Julio expressed sadness at dropping out with Silverio.

The fact that Silverio had told his cousin to signup for the course encouraged me. In fact, Silverio himself learnt about the course from his neighbour. I suppose in every industry, referrals are a sign of customer satisfaction! I also pondered the sphere of influence that God was giving us, in this land where just about everyone is related in some way. Minister to one, and someone else in his family may also be touched. Conversely, lose one through negligence, and there’s no telling what else is at stake.

So the war continues, and the odds remain stacked against us in every way. But it is comforting to know that along the way, one young man in my class overlooked the teacher’s many mistakes and flaws, and considered our time together meaningful enough to tell a cousin about. One young Timorese who’s hungry to learn, giving another a push in the right direction, while God keeps the struggling foreigner teacher sane with an overdose of grace. This, is how we overcome.