Isongole Secondary

Some pictures of my school!

Exam Week (entertainment Provided By MJ)

This past week a fellow volunteer and I decided that we should find the path through the woods between our two sites. We Google earthed the 18-mile path and decided that we would depart at 8 am from our respective sites and meet halfway to exchange a dog that I inherited from another volunteer who COSed. [Long long story, but a dog exchange was the motive behind the hike]. So, I set out on Friday morning with the dog, 2 liters of water, one banana, a multi-tool and my cell phone.  I walked through a few villages before I began to hike through some farms, then up a hill into a rainforest and finally into a forest of pine trees. The path actually turned out to be a dirt road, but when you are walking alone does it really matter? At one point a man was following me with a panga or machete and I got a little freaked out. As it turned out the man was only walking to his farm, but it did not stop me from taking out my multi-tool and picking up a rock. Not sure what I would have done if he had tried to jump me, but I figured those two objects were pretty painful projectiles and they were at my disposal.  After three hours of walking and a lot of talking to myself, I met up with Eric, exchanged the dog and started my walk home. On the way back, I was walking down hill through the rainforest when the fog rolled in and then the rain. Again, I got freaked out, so I decided to run downhill in the rain in Keen sandals. This turned out to be a pretty bad idea because I do not think Keens intended their shoes for running -- without orthotics. I was completely soaked by the time I reached the next village even though I had a rain jacket and banana leaf-- as if I were not strange enough, being white and all, lets just add some mud and water to the mix. The whole trip took about 6 hours and I am pretty sure to attempt it again I will have to be sedated.

*Disclaimer: the above is a classic Carly story, but it did happen, so hopefully you can bear with the fact that it maybe completely irrelevant….’Cool story, Hanzel’.

Exam week being the first week back at school after IST and spring break I can thankfully equate to swimming in the kiddie pool. The students do not have classes here during this week, but instead two exams a day. The exams are given in the normal classrooms and are ‘invigilated’ (proctored) by teachers. Invigilating sounds like a lot of fun, but it is really more like glorified babysitting. To explain what an invigilator does I have come up with the following tasks (in order):

1. Hunt down academic master for the hand-written exam
2. Attempt to decipher the teacher’s hand writing and write the entire exam on the black board

3.      3. Check the room for stashed notebooks and notes

4.      4. Call the students to the classroom and frisk them at the door.

a.     Frisking involves checking their hands and arms for notes and confiscating notebooks and small slips of paper

5.      5. Stand around for an hour or two and hand out paper to students who knock on their desks or snap their fingers at you.

6.      6. Simultaneously you must watch for students who are cheating. (More on this topic later).

7.      7.  Stare down, walk towards and stand next to students who you think are cheating.

8.    8. Tell the students time is up, collect exams, while concurrently checking to make sure students are not doing any last minute cheating.

Something I was warned about during PST, but did not realize until I gave my first test in a Tanzanian school is cheating. The students here, especially Form 1, cheat. Now, I do not want to generalize too much because there are students who never cheat, but there are
definitely more students here who cheat than do in the US.

I think cheating occurs for many reasons here, but mainly because there are no repercussions except for corporal punishment. The Tanzanian education system puts most of its weight on the NECTA exam (I would equate this to the SAT or a huge exam given to seniors in high school to graduate) and very little on other class grades. For example, a student can fail a class; pass the NECTA exam and still move on to the next level. In addition, Tanzanian schools do not keep very detailed student permanent records. The record includes exam and NECTA scores and a small section filled out by a teacher, who may not even know the student, on the student’s character. There is no real attendance or discipline record for the students-- something that is certainly taken into account by colleges and universities in America when deciding whether or not to accept an applicant. I believe this lack of record, or rather lack of importance placed on a permanent record by a-level schools and universities, is one of the main reasons corporal punishment still exists in schools here. If American students err, they have their whole future hanging over their heads, but Tanzanian students are given three strokes and they continue on their marry ways to potentially repeat the same act, they were hit for, down the road.

The first week back was also my week to be TOD (teacher on duty). Before I explain the duties of the TOD I have to explain that although things are (as I feel) done ass backwards here and not taken seriously, the two things that Tanzanian teachers take seriously are paperwork and formalities. The duties of the TOD fall under both of these categories. The first duty of the TOD is to collect all of the attendance books from each form, create the attendance grid and record the number in the daily logbook. The TOD must also include comments on the ‘daily routine and punctuality’, ‘General Cleanliness’, ‘Special Events’, ‘Special Visitors’ and any other comments they wish to add.  The next duty to TOD is to address the student body at the morning assembly and closing assembly with any announcements (this duty is actually kind of fun).  The third duty of the TOD is to grant permission to students who want to leave school early. This is kind of sad because they students have to speak English and most of them just get frustrated, give up and walk away. I usually end up walking them through it even though I know they hate me for it and they would rather just not leave early. The final duty of the TOD, which does not apply to me and never will, is to discipline the students. Overall being TOD is not awful, but it is funny how teachers will be thirty minutes late to class because they are trying to fill in the attendance book. Seriously guys… what is more important: the students’ educations or recording some numbers that no one is going to look at?

This week Mama Jennifer also came lurking around school. Who is Mama Jennifer you may ask? MJ is this bibi (older woman) who lives in the neighborhood behind our school and one with whom alcohol does not agree with. [To preface the story I should tell you all that many of people in my village are farmers, actually almost all are, and they ferment a lot of their corn to make pombe [pom-bay] (local beer), which they drink—often.] Most of the time MJ is a normal Bibi, but when she drinks…well lets just say she could have inspired the song “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off”. This past Wednesday all of the teachers evacuated the staff room, between exams, when we heard the students laughing and cheering. It turned out that MJ was putting on a show. She took off two of the five kangas she was wearing, was chasing/ throwing rocks at students and falling down. The Head Prefect took it upon himself to whip MJ with a piece of bark. I honestly could not believe what I was seeing. It looked like a three-ring circus and the worst part was either that that I found it sort of funny or that the other teachers did not think twice about it. 

Last, but not least, a little cultural issue. This past weekend I went into town to purchase a plastic table for my house because I am sick of living, working and eating at my coffee table. After purchasing the table, I lifted it on top of my head (a very efficient way to carry large things, I must say) and headed for the bus stand, something I was dreading. The bus stand is usually swarming with men who stand around all day and try to coax you on to a bus going probably in the opposite direction of you intended destination. These men are pretty annoying, especially when they try to grab your arm and drag you with them because you are white and they assume you do not know where the hell you are going. Now, throw a woman with a table on her head into the mix. In short, four to six conductors swarmed me, all trying to take the table off of my head and carry it off to their bus. At this point I was so hot and pissed off, that I made enough of a stink in Swahili to draw the attention of a police officer, which brought the ruckus to a lull and I was able to board the bus.  I often find myself in high-pressure situations here and this weekend was no exception. At one point a conductor was pointing his finger in my face, screaming at me, while trying to take my table from me. If my PC experience has taught me one thing, it is to not fly off the handle when I want to scream or run away. I do not think that these men know that, from a cultural perspective, Americans would find their actions very rude and violating. I honesty wonder how they view their own actions? I am currently on a cultural mission to find out, but I can imagine that most Tanzanians are annoyed by rude conductors, but used to them.

I hope everyone is enjoying the warmer weather, Easter eggs and chocolate bunnies! (Thanks again Aunt Leanne for the card! …but now I just want to eat chocolate).

Happy Birthday, Mom and Jordan!!!!  Love you and miss you!

All my love from TZ!

A mwafaka and overdue update

The past two weeks = whirlwind adventure. 

After wrapping up at school, preparing two exams (which were not even given to my students because midterms will be after our week long break) and packing I started my journey to IST (in-service training). 

Rule #1: When traveling in Tanzania always carry a roll of TP

Rule #2: Just because transportation is usually available and reliable it will inevitably fail you when you need it the most.

After lugging my huge backpack out to the road by my site to wait for a coaster, my counterpart, Yolanda, told me that all of the coasters running from Tukuyu to Mbeya went on strike and that I may not be able to get to town. I was shocked, of course, but then I remembered rule #2 (also refereed to as Murphy’s law). Thankfully after attempting to flag down five private vehicles and four very full dala dalas (the smaller slower bastard child to the coaster) I was stuffed into an almost full dala and forced to sit on the 200 degree motor with only a mama’s purse to block my taco (butt) from being scorched. About two minutes into this particular dala ride I became the in-flight entertainment-- being white, perched on a hot motor in a crowded dala and able to speak some Swahili has its perks (refer to rule #6).

Rule #3: If the bus ticket says 1 pm trust your own math and be at the bus station at 10 am.

The first leg the journey to IST took us to Iringa, which is about 5ish hours on a bus or 6 on a coaster from Mbeya. The town of Iringa is on located on a hill and is climatically about the same as Mbeya – cool. Iringa has some really nice places to eat American food—seriously almost died the morning I had veggie omelet with toast and a cup of coffee at Hasty Tasty. Iringa is also home to Neema’s Crafts. All of the crafts at Neema’s are made by people who are blind, deaf or have a physical disability. The upstairs at Neema’s is also a café, where you can get every thing from lasagna and Panini to carrot cake and a cappuccino. I will definitely be hitting up this place for zawadi (gifts) before I come home.

After Iringa we headed to Morogoro and CCT where all of our IST sessions took place. Our bus tickets from Iringa to Moro said that the bus was going to leave at 1 pm, but between the volunteers we did the math and realized that the bus would arrive at around 10 am, which it did, three hours early. Clearly the men at the Sumry bus office cannot do math.

Going back to Moro was interesting after four months of being at site. I was definitely less frustrated with the language and appreciated the city much more, especially because I feel more culturally adjusted.  IST sessions started on Monday and included everything from PST (pre-service training) feedback to project management and grant writing. After a few days, all of our counterparts arrived and we began to have group sessions encompassing teaching life skills, HIV/AIDS awareness, alternatives to corporal punishment and hands on teaching. Overall IST was really informative and I feel like I have a renewed sense of purpose and the tools to see a secondary project through from start to finish at my site!

Outside of the sessions IST was a lot of fun. I got to meet up with the other 35 volunteers from my training class. We shared our experiences and a ton of laughs over our first four months at site. Some of the PCVs in the group also organized an IST prom, which was a huge hit with the group. During our down time we also got to go swimming at a local hotel, watch some March Madness on a flat screen and enjoy pizza, burgers and Indian food! We also threw a sick dance party, watched Harry Potter 7 on a projector, swapped movies and enjoyed not having to cook for ourselves. The mamas at CCT took good care of us; making us uji (like grits) with toast and eggs for breakfast, mandazi and chapatti for chai, rice, potatoes, greens, beans, meat, fish, chicken and pasta for dinner and lunch. Which reminds me to inform you all that contrary to popular belief women volunteers in Tanzania gain weight. To combat this issue I bought a scale before leaving site and am now reducing the amount of carbs that meet my mouth. I must say this is not an easy task because flour, pasta, potatoes and rice are the staples here.

Throughout Tanzania it is currently the rainy season; even as I write this blog entry it is raining outside. As many of you know at home I am from the Northeast, which is no stranger to rain, but I do not think I have ever seen flash flooding and massive amounts of mud like I saw this past week in Moro. The side walks and gazebos around CCT, where we were staying, would flood with 2 to 3 feet of water within minutes and after the rain ended there was so much mud that you had to walk barefoot to go anywhere. The water also flooded the dirt roads around Moro, making transportation almost impossible. Thankfully I never had to experience the rains during homestay and the dry season. Speaking of homestay I went back to visit my host family, but only my mama’s little sister was home. It was great to go back and actually be able to have a conversation with her. It turned out that my mama was in Tanga on business, my baba and two sisters were at church and my brother, Gabe, is now actually going to secondary school in Dar. Glady, her mom and dad also moved out of the house and now live in a neighboring village.

All in all IST was really fun and I was really glad to see everyone and hear that their first four months were much like my own, full of ups and downs, but none the less enjoyable. I think IST also broke a lot of stereotypes I had held about Tanzanian teachers. I used to think they were pretty lazy, unenthusiastic and unable to come up with creative ideas on their own. After our first group session, however, where we were split up into small groups (3 volunteers and 3 counterparts) and needed to brainstorm teaching ideas together I was really impressed by many of the Tanzanian counterparts. They were really enthusiastic and came up with some really great, creative, original ideas. I am not sure if they felt the pressure because they were in a group or if they just do not feel like they can suggest things at school, but I was really happy to know that Tanzania is not lacking people, especially teachers with good unique ideas. 

Rule #4: Never travel without sunglasses, a raincoat, a copy of your passport and a book

Rule#5: If you board a bus with 20+ empty seats something should seem fishy.

After IST I stopped again in Iringa for one night on the way home and then continued my journey the next morning. My bus left from Iringa at 8:30 in the morning and I was ecstatic to see that there about 30 empty seats on the bus. Figuring people did not want to go to Mbeya on this particular morning I thought nothing of it, until about 30 minutes into the trip when the bus stopped outside a primary school and 25 8 year old boys all wearing red sweatsedos rushed towards the bus. Seriously the first thoughts into my head after laughing out loud on the bus were, ‘oh holy hell’, ‘I hope they peed before they got on’ and ‘I hope their chaperones sedated them’. The boys were all actually well behaved (apart from staring at me most of the trip, even though one of their chaperones was white) and nodded off after they were given juice boxes and cookies.

Rule #6: Speak the language, even if you are hot, tired, frustrated and carrying 50+ lbs on your back

After a 5-hour ride in a sea of red, I jumped off the bus in Uyole to avoid an extra hour of travel to my site. Realizing that I did not have any food at home and not wanting to assume my village had food, I walked into the market carrying two bags and my huge backpack with yoga mat attached to it. Try explaining that you are not a tourist while carrying three bags through a market... that is where the Swahili comes in very handy. Finally I made my way out of the market with tomatoes, peppers and carrots and on to a bus. Upon returning home I realized that my house and bedroom, especially, had been taken over by rat/ mouse poop. Honestly when you are dead tired from traveling, hungry and depressed because you had to leave your friends Tanzania surprises you with rat poop, 2 hours of cleaning and the task of pulling 30+ ticks off of the dog [The dog spent the two weeks outside because he is afraid the fellow teacher who was taking care of him. The dog is also actually going to be going to a new home soon because I am too busy to give him the attention he needs and the villagers are not very fond of him]. In the long run I appreciate these defining moments and know they are doing wonders for my patience level, but in the moment I want to collapse to the floor and cry or scream.

Now, I am thankfully back into the swing of things at site, happy to be home, not force fed by the mamas at CCT and glad that I have a week break to refocus my life before school starts again.

I hope everyone at home is doing well. I was sorry to hear about the freak snowstorm the other day. Guess I should not mention that Moro was about 75 to 80 degrees every day with 1,000% humidity. Best of luck to Kyle, Jordie and Brown Women’s Crew in your upcoming races this spring! I’ll be rooting for you and UCONN Men’s Bball!

All my love from TZ!