Breaking and Entering

As with anything there is a point when things seem to lose their novelty and get, well... – old. Much like in the 3^rd grade when my father, through no fault of his own, made my brothers and I baloney sandwiches for our schools lunches for over a month straight. Honestly, I could not complain because there was probably no way in hell I was going to pack my own lunch, but that was a rough month.

Similarly my experience here is beginning to feel like the baloney sandwich incident all over again. I feel like I am just going through the motions here and not necessarily at school, but with life in general. I think the problem lies mainly in the fact that I am still a novelty to people here who do not see me regularly, i.e. people in town. Going to town has become a burden. I no longer feel like a novelty because my fresh view on my situation has faded; however people who are seeing me for the first time are, as one expects, excited. Unfortunately, my excitement is hardly ever returned and patience, for people who want to make conversation with me just because I am white, is short. I find myself thinking, this must be how celebrities feel when people approach them and say things like, “I love your work” and “Can I take a picture”. All in all, Groundhogs day? You betcha.

Then there is the other side to this whole baloney sandwich situation. Just like I was lucky I didn't have to make my sandwiches, I am lucky enough to have this whole experience. Many people don't get an opportunity like this in life. I honestly try to remember this when I am being grabbed, corralled and yelled at in the bus stand, but it is not easy. Lately, I have been craving American culture. I am grateful for the other volunteers and the fact that I can be “American” around them, but I wish that just once I was invisible when I am just out and about minding my own business. I wish I could walk around and no one would stare at me, ask me for money, try to rip me off or speak to me in horrendous English because they assume I do not speak Swahili. I should probably clarify that all of the things listed above are not only because I am white, but also because of the Tanzanian culture. It is customary to greet the person next to you on a bus and ask them a bunch of questions. In America if you sat next to someone on public transport and they started asking you a bunch of questions you would either stand up and move seats or look at them as if they were crazy, put your ear buds in and turn up the volume on your iPod.

And so here I am, stuck in a kind of limbo between frustration and appreciation. I know I can bear a few more months of it, but I am concerned it is slowly chipping away at my appreciation for this country and other HCNs.

On a similar note last week I was waiting for another teacher to finish her lesson. She ran about ten minutes into my period and I knocked on the door to ask her to wrap it up. She asked for five more minutes, I agreed then I heard her say it as she resumed her teaching – Mzungu. I could not believe it. The teacher referred to me to the students as “the white person”. I admit I was pretty hurt and realized I had two options: I could ignore it or I could confront her about it. I decided to confront her because whether she meant it or not I find the word “Mzungu” derogatory and racist. I think I was more upset with the fact that called me the name behind my back, although I heard her, and that she used it in front of the students. Since coming to Isongole, I have tried to show my colleagues that all white people are not the same. One way in which I do this is by refusing to answer to “mzungu” and explaining I am not a “person who walks in circles”. I also reprimand the students if I hear them using that word. I know it is an uphill battle because these people do not even know they are being racist and it is culturally acceptable.

So again I find myself fighting the good fight. If I have learned one thing here breaking habits and stereotypes is not easy. I fear I will always be “mzungu” to some of the teachers at my school. At least I know that the teachers who I am very close with would never call me that or even refer to me as that to others who know me. Blind faith maybe, but it makes me feel better.

If it is not a water or a rat problem here it is an electricity problem. Somehow a few of the teachers' houses are wired to a very fickle breaker, which decides to switch off whenever it sees fit. Regrettably this seems to happen at the worst times, i.e 10 pm or during a down pour. This weekend it was raining and the breaker switched. Per usual I walked to the headmaster's house to get the key to the room that houses the box. He and the keys, however, were not at home. My next door neighbor, Erasto, was also on a hunt for the keys when we both realized no one had the keys. We could either wait until morning or take matters into our own hands. We chose the latter. I came up with the idea to break the lock on the door and replace it with one I had in the house. Erasto found the metal crowbar and under the cover of rain and dusk we "MacGyver-ed that shit". Afterward we both promised not to rat each other out, high-fived and went on our merry was to our lit houses.

Lastly I have some great news to share with you all! My cat caught a mouse and spread its blood on my back porch after eating its innards and...... The grant for our new school library was recently approved! What does this mean? It means we will be renovating two existing classrooms by joining them and painting them. The grant specifically will cover the cost of new NECTA books, tables, chairs and book shelves. Our currently library is about the size of Harry Potter's cabinet under the stairs, so we are all very excited to expand! (When I told my headmaster he went for the handshake and I went for the high-five, awkward, but it turned out well...yeah teamwork!)

I hope every one is doing well at home and that you all have filled out a March Madness bracket. No excuses. If I can fill one out in Africa, you can fill one out at home. With two No.2 seeds bumped already this is making for an exciting tournament. Shout out to my family who send an early Easter package. I made Peep Smore's. They were great! It also sounds like spring is on its way back home. This means two things. Summer is also coming closer and the spring racing season has started. Best of luck to the Brown Women and the Holy Cross Men this season! Kill it, Face!

All my love from TZ!