"Each of us has a fire in our heart for something. It's our goal in life to find it and to keep it lit."

I've often struggled to put into words the emotional rollercoaster one experiences in one day at Amasango. Spending a day at this school of hard knocks, you're all but guaranteed to experience the greatness of humanity--as well unspeakable depravity. You'll be faced with obstacles of a near colossal proportion, and you'll see kids who you'll never forget, kids who inspire you by their ability to journey on, and kids who've seemingly given up the fight. I thought yesterday, Monday, February 11, 2008 was a perfect example of what I'm always talking about.

8:30 a.m.: I'm helping Gloria, Amasango's cook, to bring around porridge to the kids for breakfast. Ivinde, a 5th grade student, has lost his cool and is fighting with the guards. So far, he's ripped of his shirt, thrown down his books and is screaming at two Hi-Tech guards who are attempting to subdue him. It's nothing new, Gloria and I just make our way around the fight and enter grade one.


8:32 a.m.: Gloria and I leave grade one and head down to the other end of the school yard. Ivinde is still struggling to calm down. We walk around the guards again and I say "Good Morning Isaiah," one of the guards. He smiles, laughs and I turn and keep walking. Gloria and I talk about how it's warm outside, but we can't hear one another that well above Ivinde's screaming. We walk into grade seven. Janine, a new mom at 15, is finding a seat at one of the front tables. A smile unconsciously forms on my face. I am so happy to see her; so inspired by her courage. She brought her baby to school two weeks ago and said she'd be returning to school soon. I wanted to believe her--but I didn't. Janine has been in class for the past two days. While she's still got a long way to go, and will undoubtedly fall along the way, she's still walking. She's fallen before, and she's gotten back up. She is an inspiration.

9:30 a.m. I'm in grade six when Ms. Kate, a teacher at Amasango, approaches me and tells me I must go to Settler's Hospital. I get into the Amasango SUV and the driver takes me up the hill, dropping me at casualty. Mziantabo, a 7th grade student blacked out for nearly a half hour while doing drugs last Thursday. He's been using mandrax, almost daily, for the past three years. The doctor has told him he's either got to get help, or at best, he'll suffer irreparable brain damage. At worst, he'll be dead.

He's taken the first step and agreed to come to the hospital to be detoxed, and then to be transferred out of Grahamstown to a reform school. In the past, he' s refused any help. Jane, the principal, is busy organizing the transfer, so I'm left to watch Mziantabo--a drug addict, who's having second thoughts about this treatment program--at the hospital.

We wait and we wait and we wait some more. Mziantabo tells me he needs to smoke. I tell him "no" believing he'll just run away. When he gets up, a guard and I follow him out. When he struggles, a second guard comes and helps. We return to the waiting room, a seemingly defeated Mziantabo sits there surrounded by three people. We are called to the doctor.

11:30 a.m.: The doctor tells us he's not supposed to admit Mziantabo as Settler's is not a drug rehab facility; but that he'll do it as long as Mziantabo says he wants to do it. The boy agrees. The doctor admits him. Thirty seconds after we leave the room, Mziabanto turns and says "I don't want this" and returns to the doctor.

I grab him, try to stop him, but he won't be stopped. The guards rush over. The thirty or so people waiting in the waiting room lock their eyes on the struggle unfolding.

I tell him again; he's been admitted, we just have to go to his room. He refuses again, pulling his hand out of my grip and knocks on the doctor's door.

He hands him the folder and says "I refuse."

The doctor looks puzzled. "I just admitted you."

"I know," Mziantabo says. "And I don't want it."

11:37 a.m.: The doctor grabs the folder, points at Mziantabo and says "Fine, just know that you are being given a chance. In two years, when you're in jail, or when you're dead, I won't feel bad at all for you. Get out."

The waiting room has become dead silent. Mziantabo begins to walk to the door. I grab him, pull him down the hall and ask him to talk.

He refuses.

I say I'm going to call school.

He says "I'm leaving. It's my choice."

I ask the guards to hold him down. I get on my phone. It's ringing. It keeps ringing. I think to myself, "Please Amasango, please please please pick up the phone."

It continues to ring when Mr. Diego, the school's Afrikaans teacher picks up the phone.

"Hi, it's Jason. I'm at the hospital and Mziantabo is getting out of control. He was admitted, and now he's refusing. Please send Isaiah. Please send him right now."

Isaiah is the Amasango security guard/father/negotiator of note. He can talk the kids into, or out of, nearly anything. I think to myself, if only we can keep Mziantabo here for five minutes, Isaiah can handle him.

Mziantabo refuses to listen. The guards continue to hold him down. I put my phone back in my pocket, approach Mziantabo, and just as I'm about to talk to I hear "Jason!"

I look and see Thulani, a friend of mine from town. Thulani always watches my car and he's sitting two chairs away watching everything unfold. I say "Wait Thulani!" a bit angry that he's interrupting all of this.

Mziantabo won't look at me so I grab his face telling him if he doesn't do this, he'll die. The doctor said that. He says he doesn't care and tries to stand up. I push him back down.

He sits down for a couple moments and then begins to go nuts. The guards attempt to hold him down again. He rips his hands away and begins walking down the hall, he's about five meters from the exit. I think it's all over.

Then, Isaiah walks in.

I've had it with Mziantabo and walk back down the hall. It's about 1 o'clock.

1:02 p.m.: I sit down with Thulani and notice he's shackled and a prison warden is nearby. "What happened," I say to Thulani.

"I was guarding cars in town Jason," he said, looking upset. "And a house got broken into and Hi-Tech thinks it's me and they take me to prison."

"Okay," I said. "Was it you?"

"Was it me?" Thulani says with a puzzled look on his face.

"Yeah," I said. "Did you break into the house?"

"Hay hay (no, no) Jason," he says. "It wasn't me."

"Okay," I say, not really believing him. "Why are you here?"

Thulani was taken to jail after Hi-Tech accused him of breaking in. Thulani was sodomized in jail. Thulani is now HIV-positive. That's why Thulani is in the hospital .

1:40 p.m.: Amasango phones. Isaiah, in his rush to the hospital, took the keys to the office and nobody can get in. The driver comes to fetch me and we return to school.

1:45 p.m.: I hand over the keys, say good bye to the kids, and leave for the day.

8:00 p.m.: Jane comes into the house and tells me Mziantabo was readmitted to the hospital. He needs pyjamas. I drive up to Settler's, drop them off, give him a talk about not running away and leave.

10:05 p.m.: I crawl into bed and think about the day. A pregnant girl returns to school, a boy, on the brink, decides he truly does need to go to detox and re-admits himself to the hospital, an out of control student gets sent home early in the morning for fighting with Amasango guards, and a friend--even if he is a thief--is sodomized and infected with HIV. All in a day's work.