Becoming humble: Lessons teaching yoga in a township hall

We are in a big dusty hall. African drums are beating outside and I am trying to get a group of 12 year olds to zip their mouths and eyes and be quiet. I put the music louder in an attempt to drown out the outside noise. Someone shouts through the slit in the door and they all jump up as I try to see what is going on. There is no way to do this quietly - I have to wriggle the chair out of the door handle and then push the door open. There is a little boy standing there pointing to the culprit, who has run away. 

Back to the class. The little boy they call Beyonce has completely lost focus. It has been difficult to begin with - I am not sure why he wants to do yoga - he bounces around all over the mat, and off the mat and I despair of getting him to focus. He talks to the girls on either side of him. They complain and I remind him that if he doesn't want to be there, he should leave.

They lie down again and expectantly wait for me to come around and adjust them. I have a little pot of lavender and peppermint cream which I rub onto their foreheads. I hope the effect is going to be worth the distraction of them wondering what it is I am doing.

For five whole minutes, they manage to sink into a quiet space. Even Beyonce has pulled it together and is still. Two of them have fallen fast asleep and I gently wake them before the others shake them less gently. As I pack up, the manager asks me how it went. "I am sure I have a few more grey hairs," I tell him. He leans closer as if to check this. "Hmm," he says. "I can see they are making you humble."

Once a week I have the privilege of introducing yoga to a group of children at Project Playground in the township of Langa. I feel that I am learning as much as they are. At every turn I am challenged to re-think my idea of a yoga class. Some sessions have had more than 18 children,with some crying outside to be given a chance to participate. During one session food was being served from the kitchen at the back of the hall - the staff in the kitchen was carrying on a conversation as loudly as they could. We have a bit of a language barrier, but it generally works well with me demonstrating, although they all jump up when I get up to come round and check their postures. So I have to make sure that they know that I am getting up but expect them to carry on.

But if yoga is about finding your focus and accessing that inner peace, then my challenge here is to help them to do just that in the spaces that they find themselves in. For many of them that space is even more chaotic than the solid structure that is the hall we are able to  use. For a short while they are able to access that quiet place and I hope that they have realised that each one of them possesses the ability to make themselves feel good.

My reward is seeing them relax so deeply at the end of the session that they fall asleep in spite of the drums, the shouting, the distractions.  I am humbled.