26 Feb: Throwing Down

I woke up early because Im the superimportant TOD. I was to give some announcements at morning assembly. Again, dont really have any. It seems like assembly s similar to the Festivus "Airing of Grievances," where people just lay into students telling them what they could or should do better. After teaching a Form III course (great, interactive) and a form II (bland, whispers, blank stares), I have realized theres not much else I can do when teaching Form II. Ive done everything I feel I can, from over pronouncing everything I say, to writing everything I say on the board, begging them to interrupt when they cant understand me, and spending time in the office with Brayn every night after dinner. Still nothing seems to get through. Maybe Kessler was right, I should have brought stickers.

At afternoon assembly, I decided to join in on the railing of students. Almost 15 minutes was wasted while students filed into the Form III course after morning assembly. Also, the head prefect Amani had ratted out some students, as he is often asked to do, who had broken other rules, so we had them all fetch water for the trees that were planted the previous day. Being TOD, I have to stick around the school after classes, which is a little frustrating since we still have some exploring to do. Brayn and I excused ourselves from a staff meeting which was being conducted pretty much entirely in Kiswahili. We went to watch (supervise) some students playing netball and soccer (football), and somehow ended up goofing around playing 2 on 2 basketball (just backboards, no nets) with a couple students. We quit when we lost the sunlight.

After dinner we had some great conversation about the Tanzanian economy, whats wrong and how can it be made better. As it turns out, its a lot easier to talk about whats wrong. Theres a lot to say, from the high cost of electricity which keeps industry down, to corruption in high ranking officials, to an entire generation which should be the bulk of the workforce not having any education. There is also a mass exodus of those individuals with any real skill that might be of value to an industrialized nation, who will allow only these skilled workers to immigrate.

Tonight is the world premiere of our photo montage, which will hopefully be on youtube very soon.

If this is your first time here, please be sure to read the first entry on this site. Thank you.

25 Feb: TOD!

Today I begin my time as TOD (Teacher On Duty). I pretty much have no idea what that means. In the morning I was to make some announcements. I had none. No big whoop. The head prefect (top student, Amani) took care of things. The students were dismissed from morning assembly and went to class, and I prepared for my Form II class. It went as Form II classes usually do. Blank stares and silence while I lectured about nutrition to students who arent getting enough. It made me feel awkward telling students that vitamins are important, and that they come from things you dont have.

During the afternoon, the students were to weed the bean field and plant new fruit trees. The school does a good job of reducing its tuition fees using agriculture. It was of course my job as TOD to ensure the work got done, so of course it did.

Since this was a pretty short post, here is a list of my favorite Tanzanian business names Ive seen so far:

4. High Classic Furniture
3. *$#@! Shoe Shine
2. Decent Hair Salon
1. Ruaha University College

If this is your first time here, please be sure to read the first entry on this site. Thank you.

24 Feb: The Bishop

Today was the day I was to double the number of times I had been to church in the past year in only two weeks. The bishop was coming, and of course we had to meet him. We arrived at 930, same as last week, only to learn that the bishop does another mass elsewhere before this one. In order to escape the awkwardness, we bailed, knowing we'd hear the bishops car coming down the road, signaling the proper time to leave. Having been told he would arrive around 1030-11, the mass naturally began around 12, 1230.

Following the two-hour fifteen-minute mass, we were asked by the bishop to introduce ourselves in front of the church. Again. We did so, briefly, and were asked to speak about our plan to find money for a pre-primary school to be built by the church. Making promises I had no idea whether or not I would be able to keep, the bishop decided to announce that maybe our church back home could go 50/50 with the village on this project (murmurs from the crowd). Ok, maybe 75/25 (murmurs). Ok, well see.

After the mass ended we were treated to a great meal with the bishop, Mr Kisava, and the others from the church we had met with the week before, cooked, thankfully, by Eliza. During the meal, we spoke with the bishop about things ranging from poverty to ecotourism, and he of course was charging us with the task of being great ambassadors for the program they wanted to implement. Oh by the way, they want to build two now. Oh and a lot of the students will need scholarships. Right on. Well see.

The evening was consumed by a soccer (football) game, students vs. villagers on the village field (pitch). Last time the villagers had won 2-0. This time however, they were using one of the balls brought by Brayn and me. X-Factor! Among celebrations of epic proportions following each goal (which I of course joined in to the delight of all), the students destroyed the villagers 4-1, controlling every aspect of the game. Or so it seemed to me, I dont really know much about soccer (football). Thousands of generations spent evolving these hands and thumbs, and yet the most popular game in the world doesnt allow you to use them. Oh well.

The celebration paraded from the field (pitch) back to the school with the boys and girls (who are the most passionate fans) singing their respective victory songs. We had our usual crowd of village children following us, and on the way back Brayn snapped maybe my favorite picture of the whole trip, seen above. The boys would encircle a player chanting "[players name] katiki!" and that player would do a spastic dance/movement. Katiki relates to something about snakes, which is supposed to be reflected in your movement I guess. They saw me and Brayn, so naturally they came at us with "Wazungu katiki!" and katiki we did.

The celebration lasted until dinner was served and the stars were coming out. It was the clearest night we had seen in a while, so we nerds immediately found a nerdy way to spend it. We again broke ou the astronomy book and spent an hour or so mapping constellations (of course using Orions belt as a mapping point). The stars here are incredible, but often the moon shines so brightly that many stars are lost in its light. Staring at the bright, full moon I coulnt help but think of the scene in Home Alone 2 where Kevin McCallister is Lost in New York and he is looking at the same moon as his mom in Miami, and they both say goodnight to each other, and I wondered if maybe Liz was looking at the same moon. Then I remembered that we are on opposite hemispheres in both directions, so, no, of course she isnt.

Insets: The children who will benefit from the pre-primary school dressed in their Sunday best, Brayn, me, Sebastian, and the Bishop with some of the children, and me with some of the village children (my fav).

If this is your first time here, please be sure to read the first entry on this site. Thank you.

23 Feb: The Daladala

The minibus (daladala) which takes you to Iringatown usually arrives between 6 and 630. Seeing as how nothing here seems to be on time (when you ask someone when something starts, a common reply is "4 oclock, Africa time" which means it will start anytime between 430 and 6), you can imagine our surprise hearing the bus roll by at about 545. We ran to catch it and did, securing a halfway decent seat. The ride into town was no sweat, as smooth a ride in the daladala one can get (really unsmooth).

We arrived in Iringatown and immediately headed in the wrong direction, wisely having decided to part ways with the one person on the bus we knew, Pius. Upon having doubled back finally, we had an incredible chance encounter with one of only two Iringans we know, Ayobu, who said he would meet us later at the internet cafe. After two infuriating hours of browser freezing and slow loading, it was on to the post office and a hotel restaurant for lunch. The steak tasted ok, but was tough enough such that my gums are now swollen.

To reach the pick-up spot for the daladala we had to take a different minibus. It seated 18, but we somehow got 25-30 people inside. We arrived at the pick-up point too late for a good seat, and I ended up in the back row (seats four) with four other people. Along with the supplies that were placed on my feet, I pretty much couldnt move. The daladala seats 23, and this time we had 45 people packed in. I began having serious doubts over my ability to survive this trip. The bus seemed to be leaning heavily to the left for the entire ride (a notion later confirmed by Brayn) and my inability to readjust myself made for one of the more sore left cheeks Ive ever had. Im proud to say I only really came close to a mental breakdown once, but my hatching an escape plan out the window eased the tension. The panic can only be compared to the feeling of relief when three hours after the ride began, the school came into view. We unloaded our things as it began to rain, but it was good to just be in the open space.

The rest of the night went something like this: read, eat, read, sleep.

Inset: the smooth road for the daladala

If this is your first time here, please be sure to read the first entry on this site. Thank you.

22 Feb: Happy Hour Part II

I did my bones lesson with the other Form III class today and they definitely enjoyed it. Other than that one class, most of the day was spent in the office preparing lessons, reading, and inventing games with the deflated soccer ball. Since Simon and Godfried have joined us in our office, we havent had the opportunity to continue with these games as much, which is a shame.

By the time late afternoon rolled around, we figured it was time we paid another visit to the local tavern/store/mudhut. Accompanied by Mr. Kilinga, we brought six 50 mL bottles of rum with us, courtesy of Brayn's family liquor store (airplane safe!). I sat in the corner seat, which I have now decided is in fact my seat akin to Norm's stool, and we ordered some Cokes to go with the run. While Mr. Kilinga was raving about the booze, the usual buzz that follows us around the village had begun to gather strength outside the store. The store owner, and biggest man Ive met here, came in and had a seat. It was quite apparently this was seen as a bold move. Upon learning who he was through Mr. Kilinga, we offered him one of the bottles of rum. He took a sip, practically leapt out of his seat, went out the door and shouted something involving the word "wazungu." He soon returned with his father (another rum gone) who is one of these older people in the village who are clearly excited about being around the foreigners, but hold back the excitement (this of course in stark contrast to the mobs of children who come running at the site of us). In any case, these older folk are definitely my favorite people to meet. Within a few minutes we were also joined by a teacher from the nearby primary school (wearing glasses akin to those worn by the witness in My Cousin Vinnie), a village elder, and the shopkeepers brother Charles, who spoke English fairly well. He explained he had learned to do so in the army, but he also clearly had some neurotic tendencies, quite possibly coming from the same source. Needless to say, he got the last rum. They were aking the usual questions about our home (weather, farming, what we think the biggest differences are, etc.), and somewhere along the way Charles started going on about how it sounds different when we speak English compared to theirs. He was saying how instead of "water" with a well-pronounced "t," we say "wada," sounding very much like an Upper East-Sider. My explanation of how it was the same with Kiswahili, where Ill say "hujambo" or "sijambo" overpronouncing each letter, theyll just lazily say "jam..." drew forth giggles and giddy, spastic hand clapping from the shopkeeper. This was my first joke that was genuinely well-received by Tanzanians since Ive been here, and it felt good. It somehow made me feel all the more assimilated, a little less like a visitor. Every seat was filled (all eight of the plastic lawn chairs), children were peeking through the window as usual, and by now even the adults are sneaking galnces in the doorway. An idea struck the storekeepers father and he hurriedly left the room, quickly returning with roasted maize (corn) for Brayn and me. This was probably a big deal. "We are all people" he said through Mr. Kilinga.

Poetry.

On our way out, Mr. Kilinga had to go to the bathroom, which he referred to as a "short call." Brayn and I agreed we need to take that terminology home with us.

When we returned to the school, the skies were clear enough to break out the astronomy textbook we found in the library, and we spent the next thirty minutes or so picking out constellations with some students, aided by our flux-powered flashlight (that can or cannot help us travel through time, we are still investigating this). Today was a good day.

Insets: Us with the storekeeper and a friend kneeling in front of us, us with Charles between us, us ruining a fantastic picture of a village elder and the storekeepers father, and us with our maize (corn).

If this is your first time here, please be sure to read the first entry on this site. Thank you.

Bonus!

[Verse 1:]
I hear the drums echoing tonight
But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation
She's coming in twelve-thirty flight
Moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation
I stopped an old man along the way
Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies
He turned to me as if to say
Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you

[Chorus:]
Gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

Wild dogs cry out in the night
As they grow restless longing for some solitary company
I know that I must do what's right
Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside
Frightened of this thing that I've become

[Repeat chorus]

[Instrumental break]

Hurry boy, she's waiting there for you

[Repeat chorus]

I bless the rains down in Africa [x6]


Yep. Listened to that about twenty times by now. Its our theme song. Obviously. Did you know that Toto was the back-up band for "We are the World?"