Breathe, Stretch, Shake, Let It Go

It is funny how new volunteers tend to believe the first few months are the most difficult. Yes, you are living with HCNs, learning a new language and entirely out of your element, but the experience is exciting, new and different.

I am fast approaching the 17 month mark and while I can say I have never been as home sick I as was the first few weeks in Tanzania; I have never missed American culture more than I do now. I am beginning to believe the last few months of service will actually be the most difficult, not in terms of adjustment, but in terms of staying adjusted. As I texted my friend this morning, “When did I become bitter and cynical?”. I am not quite sure, but lately my patience has lapsed and my cultural appropriateness is at an all time low. Maybe this is just Monday speaking, but Tanzania and I may be at odds.

If I was extremely lazy I would just leave my situation as is, but I am not, so how am I going to rectify the situation? How am I going to make my last few months in country the best months? Like I said it is Monday, the left side of my brain is still asleep and I am preoccupied with how I intend on getting through the week to begin with, but here are a few things that I think may help my situation. (They may also help those of you out there who feel like their lives are a stagnant puddle as well... let's just hope yours are not breeding malaria-carrying mosquitoes )

1. Bust outta my routine
   Seriously people, I do the same thing everyday. Heck I even eat the same food every day (stewed veggies! And oatmeal!). I really need to shake things up. I am going to try to workout/ do yoga in the mornings. Normally I just sit around, drink coffee and eat breakfast. Maybe if I got my body rockin' and a rollin' early I might just feel better during the day! I am also thinking of bringing back music nights. This is when I choose an artist, say Van Morrison, Billy Joel, Elton John or Styx (just kidding), and play their music all night. I am sure there are many other things I could do differently, but that's all I got for now. Suggestions welcome!
2. Appreciate the here and now
   The one thing I promised myself I was going to do when I started this whole thing was that I was going to live within a reasonable time frame. While this is ideally day to day it some times stretches a few weeks in advance. At first I adopted this mind set because I was completely freaked out by the idea of spending two years of my life in a foreign country; now this mind set seems completely useless because the light at the end of the tunnel is shining in my face. I think by reminding myself to living in the here and now it will help time go faster and will keep me focused – two things I desperately need.
3. Look back
   I have kept a running journal of my time here. It includes daily ramblings and things I could not write here for various reasons. One of my favorite things to do is to pick up one of the old journals and read what happened to me last year during the current week. It is funny to see how much I have changed and how much I have forgotten. I like to think of things to tell my past self and I also like to remind myself of how much I have gone through. As they say, hindsight is 20/20. This also brings with it a feeling of accomplishment – ego boost!
   
   4. Work, work, work
   Keep oneself busy. Thankfully this will probably be the easiest of the three above because I am teaching 4-6 periods a day and am in the midst of the library project. I can also always find something to clean in my house!

So there's four things I can do to solve the situation detailed above. Are there more solutions? Yes, there are an infinite number, but four is all my brain can focus on at once and still be effective. In addition, I also constantly remind myself that I may not be happy with my current situation, I maybe bored and that I may long for home, but when I am back in the states I will miss most things about this place. The grass is always greener, right?

In other news, school is back to normal. I graded around 400+ exams and helped the paint the new school library over my “fall” break. The library is now set to have screens put in the windows, the shelves and tables moved in and some books added to the mix; now if the fundi would only finish his work! I will keep you all updated with its progress and upload before and after pictures when it is complete.

This week, almost a year to the day that I decided I wanted to pursue law school after service, I accepted an offer at the University of Maine School of Law and I could not be happier! It is a small school in Portland that is unique because it is the only law school in the state, which will hopefully help the job prospects after school.

My mom and I are also busy making plans for her visit in June! I am so excited that she will get to see where I live and experience what my life has been like for the past two years. It was also her birthday yesterday, so Happy Birthday, Mom! Love ya! And Happy Birthday, Jordo! Big 2-0 tomorrow... no more teenagers in our house.

As always, I hope everyone is well at home! Spring has sprung, it is baseball season and summer is around the corner!

All my love from TZ

Stuck in the Middle

The events of this week had me thinking back to the first few days after I arrived in Tanzania. Why, you ask? The first few days in country the medical office gave every volunteer a host of shots, including rabies, and I am now so glad they did. Despite being vaccinated I still found myself, once again, making the long trip to Dar. This time for post exposure shots to rabies.

How did it all begin? Well on Monday night around 8pm I was in my house and I heard a cat crying outside my back door. Thinking it was my cat, I opened the door and in came a mangy kitten. After spending about 20 minutes trying to get it out of my house, I stupidly picked up the kitten out of frustration and exhaustion and it bit me as I went to throw it out the back door. Immediately after I realized I was bleeding from my pointer finger I called the the PC medical duty phone, my father and another volunteer. The office told me I had to come to Dar for a post exposure shot as fast as I could. I was not too traumatized by the situation, actually my dad and I had a great laugh after the incident.

The next day I found myself on a bus to Iringa and then the day after on a bus to Dar. The whole trip took about 30 hours, but I am glad I came-- better safe than sorry. During the 30 hours of travel I realized that I would not be in Dar for one night like I thought, but rather four nights for a series of two shots. Really glad I was prepared with enough clothing-- not, but thankfully the expats who let me stay at their house are also nice enough to let me do some laundry. I landed at the office around 3pm received my shot and went on my way. Since then I have really just been bumming around. I ventured to the only mall in Dar which has a supermarket and a big store, ala Walmart. At the grocery store I mainly just cruised through the aisles looking at all they had to offer and buying a kilo of cheap oatmeal. In one of the aisles I ran into four Tanzanian teenage girls. It was funny to hear them speak in English and to see them acting like teenagers in America, “Can we get tuna?? Do we really need canned corn? Ah! I love pickles.. I'm getting a jar”. I couldn't help but listen to their conversation and laugh to myself. A far cry from the village, but not from America. I have also been catching up on Downton Abbey. I now see what all of the fuss is about!

As some of you may know this is not my first trip to Dar, so I should express to you all how much I hate traveling to and staying here. Most volunteers would think that I am crazy because Dar has nice American food, air conditioning, iced coffee, grocery stores and lots of other Americans, but those are are the things that cause me to feel like I am in limbo. In the village, at my site, I am comfortable knowing that I will be eating rice and beans for dinner, the electricity may go out, I have to get a bucket full of water to wash clothes and take a bath and when I am craving food I cannot have it. In Dar all of those things have been “westernized”. I can turn on a tap and water comes out. I can walk down the street and pick up gum, a diet coke or a box of cereal. In these ways being in Dar is just like being home, but in many ways it is also torture. There are things that are not American about Dar, such as the price and availability of goods, transportation, security and the lack of familiar faces. My use of Swahili also usually goes unnoticed here and I end up looking like a stupid white person trying to impress Tanzanians. I either want to be in America or at my site. I hate the limbo of Dar- half village life, half America.

On the upside I do get to do some nice things in Dar, like watch TV, go to the beach, visit the PC staff, eat great food and have a proper hot shower. However, when I am here I think about home and how much I miss it or the things/ work I am missing at site. Thankfully this past week my school had exams and this coming week is Easter vacation. After that there is about two months until my mom comes to visit for two weeks!! Super excited!!

Well I best be off. Need to get my last rabies shot this afternoon, then I am on a bus home tomorrow. I hope everyone is doing well. Best of luck to my brother Jordan and the Holy Cross Men's Crew Team who open their season today and to the Brown Women in their home race against Radcliffe.

All my love from TZ

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!  

Jacque, the engine...start the engine!

Remember that scene from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark when Indie has just escaped the temple in South America, he is running over the hill yelling at his friend to start the plane. All of a sudden the camera pans out a little and we see that he is hauling ass because he is being chased by the locals with spears and blow darts? That was me this morning.

Of course I was not running for my life, but I was chased – by village children. On this particular Sunday I was feeling pretty active so I decided to go for a run. I spiced up my regular routine by running in the opposite direction to a neighboring village, but I forgot one key thing.

In the eyes of most people here I am something they do not see everyday, thus I am stared at where ever I go. I sometimes forget I am a novelty, so I fooled myself into thinking I will just have a nice relaxing run. Unfortunately that will never happen here. The kids were waiting for me to come back and I tired to outsmart them by taking a back path, but they got the jump on me. As I picked up my pace all I could hear, giggles, screaming, yelling and laughter over my techno running mix blaring through my headphones.

Unwanted attention is strange. At first you feel like a celebrity. You think to yourself, wow...so this is what fame feels like. After a while the novelty wears off for you and you begin to realize why we constantly see celebrities flipping off the paparazzi (I do no envy them). Admittedly, now, I have no patience for it. I will deliberately avoid situations if I am not feeling up to dealing with the extra attention. Foolishly I believed that after a little while the people around the area I live would get used to my presence and see me as one of them. In someways, this has happened. I have friends in the village, most of the people in the immediate neighborhood know my name and what I do and I am rarely asked for money. On the other hand I feel far from integrated outside my village. I go to town and am still treated like a tourist. I run to a neighboring village, am mistaken for a deity, placed on a thrown, fed apples and Diet Coke and fanned with palm leaves. I walk on the street and am still called things like, Baby, Sister, White Girl, Dada, Hey You, Whitie, Mzungu, etc. I try to buy something at the market or a store and the price is immediately marked up 5,000 shillings. If I do not pay exact change on the public bus I have to remember to ask for my change back. It is the small things like this that make me still feel and remind me that I am an outsider. Anyway... this is something I have been struggling with lately and something I cannot change. It is part of this whole experience.

Yesterday another interesting thing happen on my way to Tukuyu. I jumped on a coaster around 11am. I was pretty hungry and so I bought a piece of grilled corn out of the window at one of the bus stands. Venders set up little grilles, shuck corn, grill it and sell it on sticks to people passing on buses and in cars. It is 200/= and it is a really good snack. Occasionally you get a piece of what I would consider “cow corn” and you sit on the bus chewing very methodically, like a ruminant, and after a while you cannot feel your jaw. As with any food item here, it is customary and culturally appropriate to offer it to others. So, you split the piece of corn in half and offer it to the person sitting next to you or behind you. Sometimes I am really hungry, pull the “I'm white card” and keep it all to myself. Yesterday I was feeling particularly generous and offered it to the older woman, “bibi”, next to me. She unexpectedly declined and when I asked her if she was sure, she opened her mouth, pointed to her infant like gums and said, “Sina Meno” or “I don't have teeth”. Hmm. That would pose a problem/ how do you repond to that? Pole (sorry) is what I said, as I tried not to laugh or look too surprised. I guess I would label that experience as “something that would never happen in America”. Never a dull moment here...

Well that's all I have for today. Just thought I would share those two interesting/ funny experiences. Hope you are all having a great Sunday and enjoying the first days of March!

All my love from TZ.

Power to the People

I was so kindly reminded by my aunt that I have not written in a while. Voila, my overdue blog post!

Things have been going around here. I can tell time is passing by because I find myself stuck inside most afternoons due to the heavy rains that grace Tanzania every “spring”. School is going well. I do not have as many students as I thought I was going to have. Come to think of it I don't know the actual number of students I currently teach, but it equates to roughly three sections of 80 kids.

One morning last week a parade of villagers with jembes (hoes) walked through the school grounds. According to my headmaster they were on their way to dig a trench for the new water supply. The water is going to be rerouted from another source, although as this plan was being hatched the water magically started flowing from the pipes around school again! As the villagers were digging the trench they cut through a PVC pipe that housed the electricity to the teachers' houses. How they cut through PCV with a jembe and did not think twice about it, I will never know. The electricity was eventually fixed by myself and a few of the male teachers. The whole experience actually produced two good things. One, I got to spend some QT/ Cross Cultural time with the fellow teachers. I attempted to explain to them that this sort of thing would never happen in the States. In fact, we rarely lose power unless there is a huge storm or everyone in NYC decides to turn on their air conditioners and blows the grid the middle of a heat wave. The second positive thing to come out of patching up the electricity was showing the other teachers that a woman can use a knife and knows something about wiring.

Last week, I went to Tukuyu to check the PO Box. To my delight, I received a Peace Corps newsletter and my VOA calendar! ( If you are thinking this is pathetic, you are right). On my way home, I jumped on the coaster as usual and was stuffed into a seat. The coaster is set up with two seats on one side and one seat on the other side of the aisle. In an effort not to waste space there is also a jump seat that drops down to seat a total of four full grown adults across. These four seats quickly become five due to conductors who want to make more money out of their trip. Most of the time there is no room to “sogea” or squeeze over and my experience last week was no exception. Normally I do not complain when they make me move to squeeze one more person in. On this particular trip, however, there was a hefty gentleman to my right and no room to move. The conductor tried to add another person, but thankfully the people in my row explained that they would not pay or would get off the bus if he tried to shove another body in our row. After hearing this loud exchange and realizing we got our way I got a little too excited (or was really delirious, not sure), fist pumped and yelled, “power to the people!!”. As everyone was staring at me the conductor turned around, parted two people in my row and stuck another body in between me and the stay-puff. Lesson of the day, don't celebrate too early and the conductor will always get his way.

Lately there has been much discussion in East Africa about aid from Great Britain. According to many countries over here Britain will not/ is threatening to with hold aid from countries who do not want to change their views or laws concerning human rights, namely gay rights. Somehow this topic came up in the teacher's lounge one day. A teacher was saying how he was listening to the news and he could not understand why someone would protect gay rights unless he himself was gay. I was not going to involve myself in the conversation (theme of this blog), but I felt the need to set the record straight, that someone who stands up for gay rights is not necessarily gay. Some of the teachers at my school think that Great Britain is attempting to, “make [Tanzanians] gay”. They are scared that the only thing keeping them safe from being overtaken is their culture in which it is illegal to be homosexual. I feel this issue is important because it has two sides. Tanzanians are very protective of their culture. In some ways I can see how their culture has been stripped down in the past few decades because of a need to keep up with other developing countries and new technology. As some teachers explained to me, Tanzanians feel the government's job is to protect and promote culture and if that means turning down aid from developed countries, then so be it. I think it is brave of them to tell Britain that they do not need financial aid. I think it is naive to think that homosexuals do not deserve the same rights as everyone else. I also think it is naive to think that establishing equal rights to homosexuals will allow them to “take over” and “cause an end to the human race”. Eventually I explained that I think it is a human right to love whom ever you want. After this confession I received a whole bunch of Bible quotes and that is where I decided to leave the conversation. Often I find myself realizing that no matter how much sense I think I make when arguing my point of view, people here will not understand where I am coming from. They are either deeply rooted in their culture, they feel they are being attacked or they rely on a really old book . I wish I could show them that forward thinking and culture can go hand in hand. Maybe culture could even be preserved by forward thinking...

Speaking of forward thinking, last week I was roped into judging an inter-school debate. Mporoto Secondary came to our school to debate the topic of corporal punishment in schools. It was actually really interesting because the debate was in English and because it was on a topic I feel very strongly about. The students mentioned all of the big pros and cons I have been struggling with since I became a teacher here. Apparently the students are more aware of the situation than I thought they were. One question that was asked during the debate, but unfortunately did not receive and answer was, “What method of discipline should replace corporal punishment in schools?”. For some reason the students could not come up with an alternative. I was again surprised because they are the ones on the wrong end of the stick (literally), but I really cannot blame them. I still have yet to come up with an alternative that would work in all situations. I truly believe the whole education system might need to be changed if the schools wish to eliminate corporal punishment.

While I am on the topic of corporal punishment, today was a rough day at school. I was busy in the staff room grading exams when one of the new teachers came into the room leading a form one student with a stick in his hand. He proceeded to make the student get down into plank position and hit him with a stick on his rear end until he cried. The entire time the student was crying and begging the teacher to stop. After about the fifth smack I looked up and felt the need to intervene. Besides the fact that the student was in physical pain, the whole scene was really disrupting. The teacher let the student go and then turned his attention to me because I had asked him to stop. He was claimed the student had cheated and I asked him if I had not said anything when he would have stopped. Unfortunately the conversation escalated amongst background laughter from the internship teachers. I should mention here that the internship teachers are not used to me being “American”, so what they were witnessing, someone going against the grain, was probably hysterical. The argument, by this point, ended with me explaining that the Tanzanian Ministry of Education says that the only person who is allowed to punish the students using corporal punishment is the headmaster. The teacher just laughed in my face. Now, I am know full well that I should not get into with other teachers, especially over the matter of punishments. I have been putting up with the same scene for over a year now and frankly my patience is wearing very thin. Just the other day at the school of another volunteer a student had to go to the hospital because a teacher beat her so hard. I honestly feel the need to step in when I see a teacher is clearly just picking on a student and taking out their aggression on the student. That is when things go from bad to worse very quickly. I do not think I would ever forgive myself if a student was hurt that badly and I did not step in if I could have.

Alright well I guess that is it for now. Going to enjoy a nice cup of warm, homemade, soy milk. Ah the joys of being a volunteer! I hope everyone is doing well at home! Miss you all! Happy Leap Day!

All my love from TZ!

Technologic

Do you realize if it weren't for Edison we'd be watching TV by candlelight? -Al Boliska

This morning I decided that the laundry basket in my bedroom needed to be emptied as it was starting to over flow onto the floor. The last couple months I have been slow to do laundry because of the on going water issues in my village. I am not sure how many of you realize this, but it takes me about 40L of water to do a whole load of laundry. This may not seem like much, but it can take me upwards of an hour just to get the water, then I have to hand wash all the clothes. Let's just say I would give up many precious things for a washing machine at this point in my service.

Alright, so on to the real point of this post. I arrived at the local water spout at 8:30 this morning. As usual there were about five or six dirt encrusted children sitting around waiting their turn to use the spout and a few adults as well. Two teenage girls were sitting around the spout dressed in the traditional mix of goodwill donated clothing and kitenge. They were talking about something and then one pulled out a cell phone and started taking pictures of her friend or sister. I thought this was pretty interesting. I was not intrigued by the cell phone, they are everywhere here, but by how familiar the act of whipping out a cell phone and snapping a picture is to teenagers the world over. Just goes to show how alike we all are.

The cell phone also reminded me that many people in America have this notion that many countries in Africa are still stuck in the “stone age”. While I have found this to be somewhat true, in the sense of the“if it isn't broken don't fix it” mentality of many Africans; I have also found it to be remarkably untrue. I will admit that there are times when I find technology here laughable because it seems so out of place. For instance, when a mama, layered in vitenge, shoeless, is out on her plot of land using a hoe that looks like it could have been used more than 100 years ago and she answers her cell phone. However, I really cannot laugh at the fact that I am surfing the internet right now thanks to my usb modem or “dongle” as it more affectionately known by PCVs. I also cannot laugh at the fact that I own a blender and a hot plate, two things that I really love having here. Many people here also have computers, granted most of those people do not live in my village. In fact, the other day I was on the coaster home from the post office and the woman sitting in front of me had her netbook out and was watching movies. Given this is the first Tanzanian I have seen open a computer on a bus and I was wondering if I would ever see it, but it just goes to show that technology is becoming more available here. I do wonder, however, if the availability of electricity, or rather lack there of, will eventually hinder the progress of technology in some African countries like Tanzania. Many people here do not have reliable electricity let alone any electricity. Which begs the question why would you spend money on a TV or a computer if you do not have reliable electricity? You wouldn't. This is probably why many people here who could potentially afford to own such items do not have them. I think that if the power supply in Tanzania becomes more reliable we will begin to see an increase in the number of computers, especially in schools. I think the price of such technology would eventually drop if there was greater access to electricity due to supply and demand. It will be interesting to as availability of power increases if there is an increased use of computers and other modern technology. I guess time will tell.

Well I guess that is enough rambling for the moment. Today is Sunday, which means I have yet another week of school ahead. Sometimes it seems like time never moves here and then again, looking back, it has moved surprisingly fast. At least this week I do not have to do a lab three times over with 50 kids each time... that will test your patience.

Hope things are going well at home! Just a reminder that Monday begins Random Act of Kindness week! Try to do a RAK every day next week. It can be as small as holding the door for someone, saying “Good Morning” with a smile or giving some a compliment!

All my love from TZ

Guerrilla Warfare

Where to start? It's only been a week or two since my last blog post, but as we have already established – events here come in waves.

I guess it is best to start with the sad news first. About a week ago my neighbor passed away. She left five children (one was three weeks old), a husband (a teacher at my school), a sister and many friends. No one is really sure what the cause of death was, but I guess it does not matter. I think what does matter however is how when tragedy strikes a community pulls together. I was actually amazed how similarly affairs are taken care of here and in America. The only thing I found a little different was the separation of the sexes. The day Mama Anna passed away all of the women who were close to her flocked to her house and the men sat outside. I should admit here that I become a very awkward person when I heard someone has died and go to visit the family. I never know what to say or do. Come to think of it... who really does? So, I dreaded going to the family's house, but I reminded myself I signed up for the entire experience – good or bad. As is custom, I wrapped myself up in my most colorful fabric, took my shoes off, greeted all of the women sitting on the floor in the house, sat against the wall and cried. To make matters worse one of the older woman directed me to sit next to Mama Anna's children who, as one can imagine, were inconsolable. I did my best to comfort them by rubbing backs, but like I said not really my specialty. I will miss Mama Anna. She was such a friendly woman. She  always smiled and waved whenever she saw me. She was also the only Tanzania woman I saw play physical games with her kids and for that she gets huge props in my book.

The last thing I would like to say about the funeral was the procession to the church. After people gathered at the family's house we all piled into lorries, students, teachers, friends, family. Lorries are big trucks that they transport potatoes and other produce in. It has a metal bar roll cage covering, but it is more or less a glorified pick up truck. Once we started rolling one of the older female students next to me started to sing. It quickly turned into a call and response song to which I wished I knew the words. It was absolutely beautiful to hear them all singing. As we climbed up the green mountain side and I stared out from the lorrie I realized how truly special my experience here has been so far. I have been accepted into a community with open arms, no questions asked. I am expected to celebrate with the community as member and mourn as a member. At school I am treated no differently than the rest of the teachers. My issues matter just as much as theirs. At this point I feel I could not ask for more – I have blended into the background.

Now for some happier news. This week our from VI A-level students graduated! Yesterday was the sherehe (party) for which I assumed my normal role in the kitchen. I know I have complained about being a woman in Tanzania before, but graduations are the one exception. Why? Well instead of having to sit at the head table with the Mkuu, Guest of Honor and other male teachers I get to hide in the kitchen and no one cares. In the kitchen I am usually placed on some sort of “baby task” (i.e. peeling carrots, cleaning peppers, cutting cabbage), but I do not mind. The rest of the time is spend gossiping, involuntarily inhaling smoke from the wood fires and being the unofficial food tester. Not too shabby.

Graduation went off without a hitch... four hours later than planned. Apparently the guest of honor decided that showing up at 2pm was much better than showing up at 10 am. About halfway through the ceremony I decided I had had enough smoke and loud music, so I went home for awhile and reappeared just in time to greet the guest of honor and be offered a beer, which I politely declined.

Not too much else to report from here. Today we had a staff meeting. We discussed the fact that the villagers think the teachers will be leaving the school because of what happened to Mama Anna and all of us being, supposedly, superstitious. We also discussed an issue that has plagued our school for a few weeks now. According to my head master there is a rouge ex-form IV student who hides in the bushes and ambushes form I students on their way to and from school. He attacks without warning and steals their notebooks. We were told to keep a lookout for him. If we see him, we are to capture him and bring him to the school office. I have two things to say about this:
1. I am amazed that I understood this whole scenario as it was explained in Swahili.

2. This story made me laugh so hard I almost had to leave the staff room. Apparently no one else thought a kid using guerrilla warfare to target only high school freshman and steal their notebooks was funny.

Oh! Almost forgot. I survived my 25^th birthday with the help of some awesome friends. They planned a BBQ, made me wear birthday glasses and even baked me a cake with Nutella frosting and candles! Thanks again Anna, Anne, Kat, TJ, Eric, Brandon, Andrew, Hannah and Jess!

Hope February is treating everyone well back at home. It has started to rain more here, but is still unseasonably cold for summer time. I just hope May, June and July are not too cold.

All my love from TZ.