Teacher Kersi Rustomji made moon landing a grand memory

From Mombasa to the Moon with Pluck

By Kul Bhushan

Indian Air Force Test Pilot, Shubanshu Shukla, was poised to become the first Indian astronaut in over forty years to travel with three other astronauts to International Space Station on Tuesday this week but postponed due to bad weather. Later, the launch in a Falcon 9 rocket from Kennedy Space Station in Florida, USA, was again postponed to yesterday 19 June due to a technical problem and the new launch date is awaited.

If test pilot Shubanshu Shukla rockets into space, he would be the second Indian after pilot Rakesh Sharma whose Soyuz spacecrafts lifted off from Kazakhstan on 3 April 1984, over four decades ago. This news about Shubanshu Shukla is keenly followed by most Indians but does it trickle down to the millions of Indian school children or college students as well? Are they interested in this news? Or are their teachers doing anything to draw their attention to this news which can make them proud again? With all the media coverage in visuals and print, it should be quite easy to follow this news even in a remote Indian village if the teachers take this initiative.

Going back to 1969 one teacher in a government primary school in the suburb of Kenyan coastal town of Mombasa captivated the interest of his African pupils to follow the landing of the first human being on the moon. This innovative teacher, Kersi Rustomji, now 90 years old, recalled his ‘Man On Moon’ project about astronaut Neil Armstrong landing on the moon on 20 July 1969 when his pupils actually heard Armstrong say the famous words, “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” upon setting foot on lunar surface.

Kersi Rustomji, now living in Australia, visited Mombasa some years ago and went back to Likoni suburb where he taught at the local school.

Kersi recalls, “I went to Likoni (Kenya) once after a long time. I met a couple of teenage boys and asked them to take me to a boy from my class.  They took me to a small duka or shop. Behind the counter there was a young man. I said Jambo (Hello) calling his name. He rose from his seat, looked at me for a few seconds, then with a loud, “Malimu” (teacher) he came out and hugged me. We talked for a while, then giving me a Coke he told me to sit on the bench in front of the shop. He then went into the back of the shop and returned after a few minutes. Some minutes later a young lady came to me and said, ‘Jambo, Malimu.’ For a moment I was unable to respond but greeted her. Within minutes after that, my old pupils, now adults, began to arrive at the shop to greet me. That afternoon my Standard Seven pupils, now parents arrived to meet and greet me at the shop. They sat by me, asked how I was, and I had a baby put on my lap. One matter they continually referred to be their experience of the moon landing by Armstrong.

Earlier I had sent an air letter to NASA requesting for a teaching package with posters about the various stages of Armstrong’s moon landing. It arrived a week before the moon take-off. The class walls were covered with all the photos, posters, and booklets about the Moon Launch. Papier-mâché moons swung from metal roof frames. One pupil, who was a good wood carver, carved an astronaut and placed it on the display. All the teaching subjects — maths, language, history, geography, and the social significance of the Moon among various African tribes and us Indians — were discussed and tied in with the lunar launch. Two days before the launch, the headmaster came to tell the class that the Provincial Education Officer was coming to view the display. As he left the class, he shook my hand, nodded with a smile, and added, “Very good.”

On one side of the blackboard, I had written the numbers 10 to 1 to mark off the launch take-off. Then, one day before the launch, a boy climbed a coconut tree just outside the classroom window and tied an insulated wire—about three inches of it stripped at the front—to the end of a palm leaf. Coming down, he passed the rest through a window. It was wrapped around the leg of the class table, with a length dangling.

Every class in the school came to view the display. The teachers requested the Headmaster to invite the parents as well. Earlier in the week, the Provincial Education Officer had arrived to view the display, and he agreed that the parents could be invited. Two days later, our classroom was opened to all the parents.

The next morning, the day of the launch, I brought in my battery-operated radio, connected it to the antenna wire from the tree, and set it on my table, with spare batteries for the long broadcast. The lesson that day was to listen to the Voice of America shortwave broadcast of the Lunar Launch. I had also told the pupils to call out loud as I pointed to the numbers from 10 to 1 on the blackboard.

As the children couldn’t quite follow the live broadcast commentary of the VOA, I translated all the reports coming in on the small radio into Swahili. On the day of the launch, as agreed by the headmaster, all pupils were allowed to come in their own clothes, which made for a cheerful classroom.

At the take-off countdown, they called out the numbers I pointed to on the blackboard and listened to the loud sound of the take-off motors. When it faded, I looked at them.

Every child sat in a different posture of utter surprise. Some clasped their heads, others held up half-raised arms. A few sat leaning on the desks with folded arms; several just stood looking at me. I told them they could have a small recess, and they rushed out shouting, “Kwa mwezi, kwa mwezi…” — “To the moon, to the moon,” past all the classrooms.

As I stood watching them, the headmaster, Mr Zablon Zero, joined me, watched them, and said, “These children will remember this till the day they die. Thank you.” Silently I thought, Nor will I.

And now, at 90 years old, I still remember the tremendous impact it had on those 30 pupils at Likoni Primary School in Kenya. Later, talking to some primary and high school teacher friends, and one from the Mombasa Institute of Technology, they said that none of them had held a special teaching project in their classes about the lunar launch. I wondered if ours was the only one in Kenyan schools. I like to think it was.

Mauritius Times ePaper Friday 20 June 2025