On the group’s last night at the farm, during dinner, Kora seemed to be bursting with some hidden secret.
“Father, are you going to ask him?” she begged in a loud voice.
“I suppose now is as good a time as any. Kora has gotten it into her head that she wants to read and write and do numbers and such. I told her you probably charge a lot of money to take on students, pay for their food and all, money we don’t have. But I told her I’d ask, just so she could see for herself.”
“Ilika doesn’t charge us anything!” Buna blurted out. “We don’t have any money, except what he gives us.”
“Kora would be a really good student, I can tell,” Neti pleaded. “Could we take her, to replace Kodi?”
Miko nodded. “We’d all help her catch up.”
“Yeah, we all really like her,” Mati said, glancing at Sata.
The other students nodded their agreement and willingness to take on one more student.
“Please, Father, can I learn to read and write and stuff? I really want to!”
“Now hold on a minute!” Keni said. “Just because he doesn’t charge anything — and I can’t say I understand that — it doesn’t mean there aren’t other good reasons to keep your head down here on the ground were it should be. You’re part of a family, and you have chores and lots of things to learn right here. There’s a boy at a farm nearby who likes you, and your mother and me are going to need you around, especially when we get older.”
Ilika was enjoying his stew, trying to remain completely invisible.
“Besides,” Keni went on, “all that reading and numbers and other sorts of book-learning doesn’t go very far toward putting food on the table. That’s what’s important. You’ve hardly ever been hungry because me and your mother have worked hard to make our farm give us everything we needed.”
“Please talk to him, Ilika,” Buna pleaded.
There was a long silence as Ilika looked at each of his students. He could see the excitement in their eyes. Only Rini seemed neutral about the idea.
Ilika took a slow breath. “Actually, I agree with Keni, and I don’t think it would be good for her, or us, to take on Kora as a student.”
A chilling silence fell over the group. Kora retreated into herself and stared at the ground. Most of Ilika’s students did the same.
Keni’s wife brought out a large plum pie and began to serve. She asked her daughter to get a cup of fresh cream, and Kora did so silently, without eye contact or joy. A few of the students refused the pie, claiming they were full.
Ilika, however, was determined to enjoy every bite. Keni struck up conversations on light topics, from farm animals to the weather, and Ilika responded pleasantly. When the students finished eating, they all wandered silently back to the woodshed. Ilika and Keni went over to the fire pit and the farmer soon had a blaze going.
“Thanks for respecting my wishes,” Keni said. “Do you think they’ll get over it?”
“I hope so. Will Kora be okay?”
“Yeah, next time the lad up the road comes by for cheese.”
Ilika
chuckled.
Keni left to do his evening chores, and the other family members were busy here and there. Ilika warmed his hands and gazed into the dancing flames.
Kibi was the first to join him, snuggling close on the log and putting her arms around him. “I trust your reasons for doing what you did.”
“Thank you,” he said, joining her in the embrace.
A few minutes later, Sata and Boro sat down at the fire. “We wanted to hear your reasons for not taking Kora,” Boro said.
“I’d be happy to share them,” Ilika said, “but I only want to do it once.”
Mati and Rini appeared in the light of the fire and found seats. Sata whispered the situation to Mati.
Neti and Miko squeezed in, both looking glum and remaining silent.
Toli showed up. “Buna’s in one of her moods. Says she isn’t coming.”
“It isn’t optional,” Ilika said in a firm but quiet tone.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kibi said.
“Thanks.”
Ilika gazed into the fire, trying to collect his thoughts. About ten minutes later, Kibi returned with Buna.
“Thank you all for coming,” Ilika said.
“I thought we were free,” Buna mumbled with an angry pout. “Kibi said this isn’t optional.”
“You
are free, all of you. But there are, and will continue to be, things that are required as long as you are my students, and as long as you want to be considered for my crew.”
“Makes sense to me,” Boro said.
Buna flashed him a dirty look.
“I have been asked my reasons for not wanting to take Kora as a student.
The most obvious is that she does not have the leave of her parents. But there are others.
“There is only so much of me. I am teaching nine when I only need five. It takes time and energy for me to figure out what to teach, how to approach it, in what order, with what materials, using what words and symbols. Most nights I lie awake for hours making my plans for the next few lessons.
“Getting a new student caught up would be a huge task, even if you all helped. And I have not tested Kora. I know, from the tests, that all of you are able to learn very quickly. I don’t know that about Kora. My impression is that she is curious, and that would probably motivate her for a week or two.
Then she would start slowing us down. I can already see there are some lessons she likes to avoid. As it is, it will be a miracle if we find the time for everything I want to teach you this summer. There were many slow learners in that room full of people I tested. I did not pick them. I picked you.
“But there are even more important reasons. The world is a big place with lots of uneducated . . . poor . . . sick . . . even dying people . . . everywhere.
Sometimes we can help them a little bit in passing, as I have done several times since arriving in your kingdom. But as candidates for the crew of my ship, you must get it clear in your minds that our work will be to run the ship.
“Sometimes the mission of my little ship will be to help people, even rescue them. Sometimes it will be different, something even more important, and we will have to let people stay uneducated, poor, maybe even die, so that we can do what is important at that moment. Yes, it will be hard. Sometimes we will cry about it. But it is a hard, cold fact that even if we gave every copper we have, and every minute of our time for the rest of our lives, there would still be needy people in the world.”
He took some deep breaths, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. His students all gazed thoughtfully at the fire.
“I have a headache, and I’m going to bed. You are welcome to stay up and talk. In fact, I hope you do. If anyone is still interested in being considered for my crew, I will depart with them after breakfast tomorrow. You are all free to make your own choice.”
Deep Learning Notes
In this chapter, Ilika must tackle the thorny question of his (and his future crew’s) relationship to people in unfortunate circumstances. Since most of his students were slaves, they have first-hand experience at being some of those.
From Book One we know that Ilika is basically a moral person, but this chapter explores exactly that that means. Does morality imply efforts to remove suffering from others’ lives? How many others? What if doing so would violate their will, or the wishes of their parents? What part of one’s time, energy, and wealth should the moral person give to that effort?
Ilika’s answer seemed to be a middle-road. At times he helps others in passing. Sometimes the mission of his ship is to help others, and sometimes it is not.
Notice that Ilika did not advocate hardening their hearts, feeling nothing, and
treating others as objects, as does the slave master. He admitted that sometimes they will cry about what they see around them. But he strongly implied that being touched emotionally by what they see does NOT always mean they should jump in and do something about the situation.