LIBRARY UPDATE! January 2010

This update will be brief…on the 28th of January the library received its 10% donation (from the school academic fees) towards the purchasing of badly needed books and mathematical tables, and the project was approved over all by the headmaster and the school board. We are now in the process of purchasing the books according to the new syllabi, and we will then take a weekend to catalogue, organize, and update all of the records in the library. Classes for the students on proper library use will follow as well…stay tuned for pictures and more updates!

The New Peer Educators on the Block... January 2010

The Peer Education “tour” of the Mnaviera ward was so successful last year we decided to have a repeat performance this year, and after 12 new students were selected for the group we started to get the training started this week, teaching about HIV/AIDS. The goal this year was to make the project more sustainable, with the occasional help from me in the way of answering questions and helping procure food, but with most of the teaching stemming from student and community leaders who trained with me last year.
Our two student leaders were peer educators last year, and this year they returned to teach about what they learned and what the students need to learn. These students are extremely dedicated, especially Habiba, who is still on crutches from “Camp Nyangao”, they make the lessons far more amusing than I am able to, and having the students hear from another student why they should care about these issues is so much more powerful. Mustapha is our community leader, and as a graduated student he does an excellent job working with the kids and making up the most ridiculous games that are relevant (if only slightly) and get the kids energized and excited to learn how to teach others.
Our first meeting to discuss the biology and ways of acquiring HIV/AIDS was a success, and we are planning on a lot of fun meetings in the future, before we start our theatre work and touring in the spring!

THE END OF VACATION January 2010

When I went back to high school each year, I did so with slight trepidation, after all, who doesn’t enjoy their summer break? I never really thought about how the teachers, who would now be fighting for space within the limited capacity of my brain, felt about coming back from summer vacation. Now as a teacher (sort-of) I can honestly say, I have WAY MORE appreciation for summer vacation.. This appreciation probably stems from the realization that when I was in school, homework assignments were optional (PERCIEVED AS OPTIONAL, pardon me) and if I didn’t do them the worst I would get was a look of death and a detention. Here, I have to correct my students papers (all 212 of them) because its my job, and because their young minds rely on my critiques so that they can expand and learn, but really what it boils down to is I have to do (or re-do) the home work assignment 212 times. Sigh. I miss summer break already.
This year I’m tackling 24 periods a week, that means teaching biology to Forms 2,3,4 and English to Form 4. Its not that heavy a load, considering I get to use all of the notes that I wrote last year, and I don’t have to teach on Fridays (because its peer education day), but the homework often is a downer when I want/crave free time. The students this year arrived a little late in order to avoid the inevitable use of their arms as lawn mowers: all students are required to bring machetes to school the first two weeks to cut the grass, which stands over most of their heads! Its amusing to watch most of the punishments for being late, most of which involve some type of physical labor that we would NEVER stand for in the states, like cutting the grass or digging a 6 foot hole to put garbage in. It never ceases to amuse me how African teachers (most of whom are a little lax about attending their own classes) will yell at the students, call them names, threaten to beat them, and then thrust extremely sharp knives into their hands and march them off to do physical labor in the sun – the trust they put in the students not to rebel and take over the school, and the never ending respect the students give them (though at times they don’t deserve that respect) is unbelievable.
Once the grass is cut, the school fees are paid (or negotiated), and the library open (LOOK FOR UPDATE) I’m sure its going to be a busy and fun school year.

Mustapha's Trip to the USA January 2010

This blog is being written by a guest speaker: Mustapha Rashidi. Mustapha was given the opportunity from the US Embassy to participate in the Bold Leaders program, a program that took him to Denver, Colorado as well as Washington DC. Mustapha was one of 5 selected students (from many applicants) to participate in this trip. Below are his thoughts on what he learned in America and what he plans to do with what he learned.

On beginning of October I received application form from African leadership program (BOLD LEADER SHIP),through U.S Embassy in Tanzania, this program was funded by U.S state department. The reason for my trip was to participate in Bold leaders program, which was aimed in increasing leadership skills. Also to have good utilization of basic human resources such as voice, creativity, tears, as well as listening skills as how life depending on. The first plane was from Tanzania to Ambstardam, it was very express and interesting plane, they provided us a delicious food whenever we wanted, their announcements were very clear.

We arrived in U.S on 30th of October, despite of studying but we went to ski, swimming, walking and climbing Colorado rock mountain. When I was there I noticed so many different between Africa and America, some of them are Environment difference, when America is cool and Africa is hot, also Education system ,American gives high priority to Education more than Africa; also social difference where by American youth get more support than support we get African youth in Africa, also Economic difference this can seen by looking infrastructures in America, the living condition of American and availability of social services, Also we have political difference where by America is more Democratic than Africa.

Voice from American and American environment inspired me a lot, the lessons I get there are to know that every one is a leader and every one is responsible on making positive changes in the community, also no age factor in making positive changes, either Elders or Young people all together are responsible in impacting the community, also I get to know who I am right now is I am going to be on the future,(my future is determined by my present),also I get to know humanity, as well as to stand for the people who cannot stand by them selves, to give voice to the people who are voice less, also to stand for the victims of my Nation .

Due to these lessons I was released that my Tanzania now is in good hand of me and to have desire of working to my dream about future Tanzania ,Tanzania had problems before, but hopefully we have no problems any more I am looking for the solution. That is what want to do starting projects which help people to have aces in Education, because I believe on Education to be only the solution to our problems. Also I am studying hard in order to become a good president on the future who will care about the people and fight against Diseases, poverty, and Ignorance hardly, also to be a father of humanity and fare to my people.

This blog was not edited by me in any way, all of the spelling and words are his. When I read it I was amazed by how much better his English is…he would have done so much better on my final English exam if he had gone to America first…sigh.

Mustapha continues to live in Makong’onda as my counterpart/best friend/son until he is able to go to high school in the Spring. He is the counterpart for many of our projects, and he is trying to train and find others who can teach in the future, when he leaves for school and I leave for places unknown. We are all incredibly proud of Mustapha (his home village of Mapili had a town meeting so that Mustapha could tell them about life in America, the entire village showed up) and I know that if he is lucky enough to get into high school, he will do great things.

Parents Trip to Tanzania Pics

My Parents came for a short visit January, and as I type are getting ready to head back home on an early morning flight (while I use their fast Holiday Inn internet to upload our pictures). We had a great trip, and I think they will soon have a guest speaker blog on the page...until then, enjoy these pictures!

Bustani Update Late December

All of these pictures are from the gardens of the mothers we did the nutrition project with...10 mothers were taught the nutrition class, 8 actually built gardens and started eating out of them...these pictures are before and after 2 months.

The greatest thing about this project was the potential for sustainability. All of the mothers can now continue the garden by saving their seeds, and some of them already started planting new plants so that they can continue to eat from their garden. It was a very successful project!

A Very Mako Christmas

Though Habiba is making remarkable strides with her crutches, we decided that the trip to the beach may be a few strides too much, and thus we decided that Christmas would have to be celebrated in our home in Makong’onda. My Peace Corps family that did not have previous engagements with their significant others (in other words, the awesome single people in my PC family) decided to also give up their dreams of Christmas on the beach and instead hike out to Makong’onda, to create a Christmas like no other in the vill. This was Habiba’s first “celebrated/American” Christmas, and we wanted to make sure that we were able to teach her as many traditions as possible!
The party started when Laura, hailing from Nanganga, arrived in the rain after a ride on our lori Christmas Eve. She brought Christmas cheer in the form of construction paper and a huge block of cheese. Habiba and I had baked her a cake as a belated birthday present so we ate cheese and chocolate cake (after cooking Habiba a “real dinner”) while we cut out snowflakes and strung them on the indoor clothes lines. After Habiba was asleep, we kept decorating, adding to the Christmas tree JB (volunteer, Nakarara) had hung the day before, and wrapping Christmas presents, including items that went into a stocking for Habiba (our favorite present being “hair relaxing gel” which Habiba loves, though she shaves her head…). The night was magical, with us consuming copious amounts of Coke and cheese, and my kitten Bonge (Kiswahili for fattie) catching her first rat (after being thrown in its general direction by me) and then bringing it straight into the house, where she could show it off to Laura and better enjoy playing with it (but not eating it) in the electricity, until she and her playmate were thrown out of the house.
Christmas day came with more rain clouds (more revered here that snow on Christmas in America) and more volunteers, with JB and Kristy (volunteer Namiyonga) arriving after their Christmas church service in Nakarara. Following JB and Kristy from church was a huge rainstorm, which sent us scrambling to put all of the charcoal stoves into the house. Our festively decorated house was added to by the Christmas music from Kristy’s iPod, which we sang along to as we cooked stuffing, mashed potatoes, eggplant parmesan, biscuits, and a ton of desserts (more than the normal food). We finished cooking, ate, and once we were able to move again (food coma) we planted beans in my garden when the rain stopped (never miss a rain opportunity).
Habiba had her first experience with a Christmas tree (though a paper one taped to the wall), Christmas food (though we had to cook her some food of her own so that she would eat), and Christmas presents/stockings (her favorite part of Christmas), all of which she enjoyed and good-naturedly went along with. When we were getting ready for bed that night, I asked her what her favorite part of Christmas was, and she replied that it was the fun and laughter that we shared with the other volunteers all day…in other words, the Christmas spirit, which everyone, even Muslims who don’t necessarily celebrate the holiday, can share. It was one of my most memorable Christmases, and I look forward even more to the new opportunities and possibilities that the new year will bring.

FREEDOM December 20th 2009

On day 18 of our hospital vacation, the doctor and his entourage strutted into our ward and said the magic words we had been desperately waiting to hear: (the desperation increasing as the third gangrene patient was placed in Habiba’s room, making the smell and atmosphere unbearable) “plaster today”. Jumping for joy, I bounced in and out of the different hospital offices, getting police reports signed, getting medications filled, and saying goodbye to the various staff members and patients who we had befriended during our stay. Habiba’s cast was put just above her knee, supporting her broken tibia, and we were told that she would have it on for 1 week. After a quick lesson from the physical therapist, which included how to walk AND break-dance while using crutches, we rolled Habiba into the crowded waiting room and out into the fresh air she hadn’t seen in 19 days. The journey home was long and awful, the public transportation portion ended quickly in Masasi when Habiba’s pain was so intense we realized that getting into the lori (the open backed pick-up that makes up the only transportation to our village) was not going to be possible. Andrew, the student who stayed because of his broken clavicle, and I hustled a taxi into going to our village at half the speed for half the price. The man was amazing, lifting Habiba into his taxi and then adjusting his rear-view mirror onto her so that he could see if she was in pain throughout the ride. The taxi ride was better, and in 2 and a half hours we reached home sweet home.
22 days after the accident, we had a “hospital groupies reunion”, all of those who had already returned from the hospital coming to my house to see Habiba. All of the stiches were out, the cuts healed, and the bones healing. The kids were all happy and excited to continue on with the rest of their “summer” vacation. 2 of the kids braved the busses once again to head on to Dar es Salaam, where they were originally supposed to stay with relatives on the way home from Killy, and two continued on to a school in a near-by town, where it had been previously arranged for them to study during the holiday in order to be ahead in the upcoming school year. This left only me and Miss Habiba to wait out the long month for her cast to come off.
In Tanzania, when you have a relative or a friend who is ill, you have to go to visit them, sitting and staring for hours on end. Habiba and her family decided that it would be best for her to stay in my home, where there would always been a person available to help her, a good amount of room for her to manipulate her crutches, electricity, and of course, a large enough sitting room to accommodate the hoardes of fans and well-wishers. Though the house many days is like grand central station, Habiba is enjoying all of the friends, family, and mangos that come by the dozen.
Though we are still working out the little kinks in our living arrangement, (no matter how hard she tries, Habiba cannot convince me to eat minnows and corn porridge and I cannot convince her to like spaghetti, or consider eating just chocolate cake a meal) we are having a lot of fun together, and we are learning even more about one another each day. Habiba is a celebrity among other peace corps volunteers, being spoiled by gifts, visits, and huge “get well soon” messages all over her cast, (one volunteer, Luke Glaude, (who looks remarkably like a Calvin Klien model) wrote his name in huge letters, and another of my females students saw the name and sighed “I would break my leg if Brother Luka would sign my cast”…ha).
As we get well we are starting the plans for our up-coming projects, Habiba is the student leader of the Peer Educators, as well as the head librarian, so we are working our time-lines and plans for projects as we heal her leg, multi-tasking, one of the American concepts she has learned during her stay here. Soon Habiba and all of the kids will be healed and then nothing will stand in our way of HIV/AIDS education domination…the Mnaviera ward has no idea what its in for!

Bad Luck November 2009

I didn’t have a lot of time to think about the huge pit of fear in my stomach as the day for our Kilimanjaro trip approached, we were busy closing the school, grading final exams and writing report cards, trying to fit in that last run (despite the protests of the kids), getting everything packed and solar taken down, and buying socks (big woolen socks, INCREDIBLY hard to find here where it is a million degrees every day).When they each showed up to Newala, late, with hair freshly braided and in their best clothes, we ate and then headed towards our first destination: the bus stand floor.

It had been decided the week before that rather than stay with family (which makes the most sense) we would rather stay at the bus stand in Newala, sleeping on the floor of the bus office. When Andrew, the young man in charge of Newala sleeping arrangements, stood at our final Killy meeting, he clasped his hands, grinned broadly, and with a solemn face stated that he “gave thanks to the god that the Akida (bus) people are letting us sleep at their office”. His announcement was received by the cheers of the other kids, so I swallowed back my protests and allowed them to figure out for themselves that a night sleeping on the cold ground may not be as great as they thought. It WAS a great as THEY thought.

Our bus didn’t leave until 4 am the next day, so the ladies and I got an early start to the night, around 10pm. The boys were quick to join us, dancing into the room and pushing the girls off of the mats. Upon realizing that the girls were not about to move, they switched tactics and decided to turn the office into a disco, using one phone and its only song (a backstreet boys song) to dance around the nearly hysterical girls and the protesting school head boy and secretary, both of whom vowed to kill the dancing boys in between sleepily aiming kicks at their shins.

Around 1 in the morning I awoke to all 5 of the girls trying to hassle the bathroom key out of a sleepy office worker. When asked where they were going and why they were being so loud they replied that they had to finish putting on their makeup and “looking smart” for the bus ride. At this point the dancing boys rolled over and told the girls that they were going to lock them out of the office if they kept waking them up. In response the girls decided to steal the boys underwear as insurance to get back into the office. Caous, but not sleep, ensued.

We finally got onto the bus at 430 in the morning, the kids excited and literally leaping with joy when they realized that they had the very first seats in the bus, one of them all the way up front with the driver. The bus ride was uneventful until we arrived at Tandahiemba. There I got into a loud argument with three of the bus conductors on how I didn’t pay for the three ladies seats in the front for them to stick huge televisions and generators on their feet (or on their laps, as one had the gall to try). The men gave in (generally Tanzanian men realize that I never give up, or shut up, until I get my way) and we moved along on our way.

Outside of Tandahiemba I started to fall asleep on the shoulder of a taller student (whose seating arrangement was switched at the last minute to accommodate me as a pillow, and to accommodate his needs for my iPod), and I noticed that all of the other students were starting to nod off as well. This was why I was surprised when I heard my student start to yell…

I opened my eyes when I realized the bus had finally stopped. The entire crash lasted seconds, but the silence that followed seemed to last forever. Then the screaming started. Admittedly most of the screaming was mine, aimed at the two unconscious students who had been ejected out of the windows of the bus, now hanging by their limbs to the twisted metal that remained. When they both came to and started screaming themselves, I almost started laughing; I’ve never been so relieved.

I can’t put into words the full story of what happened that day, though I continue to revisit the scene in my dreams every night. The student who was sitting next to the driver (who was miraculously unhurt) told me about the tractor in the middle of the road, and how the driver didn’t see the farmer until it was too late, and when he swerved he missed the tractor and instead went right into the mango tree. This same student had run 2.5 kilometers until he could find cell phone service and contact help on the only phone in our group that was left intact (my phone and iPod were lost in the crash). The hospital cars arrived, and after the longest 15 minute ride of my life, we arrived at the hospital. The final damage after we arrived at the hospital was: a broken leg, a broken clavicle, a severed earlobe, lost teeth and a ripped lip, 1 concussion, several head wounds, 1 gash (where you could see the bone) and 2 sets of incredibly hurt (but otherwise intact) legs.

The accident was bad, the 19 day stay at the hospital was worse, but I can report now that we are starting to get back into a routine. When my legs stop swelling several of the kids and I will begin to run again, and Habiba, the student with the broken leg, will reside at my home to rest until her cast comes off. As is tradition in Tanzania, many people come into my home every day to greet Habiba and then sit for hours on end looking at her, repeating sorry over and over again, and we have received so many mangos I don’t know what we are going to do with all of them.

Repeatedly I’ve heard “sorry”, “bad luck” and that our accident was “Gods plan” or “a test from God”. Surely this has been a test, my most difficult in Tanzania and in life in general. Despite the pain endured, there is nothing that can stop me from seeing the proof that someone was watching over us that day. My kids are all alive, they still laugh and smile, they can still dream. Killomanjaro may not have been in God’s plan for my kids or myself, but even now we are planning our big “comeback tour”. If nothing else I am thankful that this experience has shown me how much the kids have been impacted by my time here, and the even larger impact that they have had on my life. Our adventures continue soon…stay tuned!