In which the reliably unreliable nature of this culture helps me out again

Last week, I decided I wanted to start my girls club for this year. I followed all the appropriate channels: found a time every class was free, asked the director if it was ok and wrote a formal letter declaring my intentions to start the club today at 3 p.m.

Then, last Monday at the flag ceremony the vice principal had something to say. The school grounds were not proper, yet. Every student was expected to be at school that Wednesday at 3 p.m. with a hoe and a machete to weed, chop and sweep the grounds into shape.

This was not the first time I’d been in a situation such as this. The hardest part of starting a club is actually starting the club, establishing a specific time on a specific day as your club. I had already pushed back starting the girls club this year two weeks because a class was having a make-up class during the time. I did not want to push the start date back once more.

So, I showed up at school anyway this afternoon. And at 3 p.m., I rounded up the girls that I saw, and I had my club. And we talked about what we wanted to do this year, when we would elect a president and we colored until 4:15 p.m.

The vice principal never showed.