Tanzania Tales

EXCUSES, EXCUSES April 3rd

2010-04-03T01:17:00.000-07:00

Why does it always take Mirinda so loooooooong to post her blogs? This month I actually have some fairly decent excuses, owing to the fact I hadn't left the village the whole month (with one exception) due to both physical and time constraints.

PEANUT PURGATORY

JB - like all farmers in our area, is enjoying a great harvest out in her field in Nakarara. She has been enlisting the help of me and my students to help her harvest her peanut crop - which gave her a VERY plentiful crop. We all helped her harvest these evil brown nuts (at the computer next to me JB is pointing out that I only helped for like, an hour...I sent kids, their time should totally give me helping points.)These little nuts are way more fun to eat than actually pull out of the ground, and the amounts that I have been consuming have caused gastrointestinal difficulties that ALSO prevent the writing of blogs...so really this is a two-for-one excuse!

T-shirt Madness

Mustapha and I decided that this year in order to save money we should make our own T-shirts for the Peer Educators (we saved like 30$, it was a WAY better idea). Thus we hunkered down with my iPod and a can of paint and set to work...on 17 T-shirts. The supplies were fairly sustainable, with the exception of the shirts themselves, the paint came from my head master and the "sponge" was ripped by one of my teachers from his mattress as his "donation to the cause". Mustapha and I got the added bonus of being high from paint fumes for 2 days while the shirts dried...it seems like a much better idea now that the two of us are not in the tiny room, covered in paint and listening to the same 3 rap songs over and over again while breathing toxic fumes.

RAIN, RAIN

The rain has actually kept us from doing a lot these past few days. It has rained so much that we are able to fill all of the drums of the house in less that 20 minutes. Our backyard/courtyard floods with every heavy rain, making Mustapha and Joyce a "swimming pool" that they can go out and slash in when the rain slows to a trickle. The rain has also prevented the transportation of JB and myself to and from our villages, as it has completely destroyed/washed out the road in many places. Ridiculous, but delicious, rain water is SO much better than boiled water, and SO COLD, its like coming out of a water dispenser in a refrigerator.

TEACHING

Its been a long school year but I am finally bringing it to a close, teaching out side and teaching the most ridiculous things I can manage. I will definitely miss my Students a lot, and I'm hoping that these last exercises will help them remember me!

Makong'onda Pima Day March 27th

2010-04-03T00:51:00.001-07:00

MAKONG’ONDA PIMA DAY March 27th

Makong’onda Idol was such a huge hit we decided that a repeat performance was surely necessary. Because of some of the technical difficulties that made the last time difficult, we decided to make this time easier by limiting the dietary selections (only rice and beans for EVERYONE), by asking more volunteers to participate (JB, Kristy, Luke, Gigi, and Atif came), and by having another school come to join in the festivities (Newala Day, Gigi’s School). It was so well planned, and we had already done another PIMA day in Chikoropola that was a huge success, what could possibly cause any problems?

AFRICA.

To make this into a shorter story that highlights all of the main points, I have decided to make this blog into two categories, the things that went right, and the things that went wrong (again, all fault for any problems goes to AFRICA). To preface both categories, you must understand that in fact, the day was A LOT of fun, just chaotic, but no party/event in Tanzania would be considered an event without a little chaos.

THE THINGS THAT WENT WRONG
(what doesn’t kill you…)

• The district of Masasi ran out of tests to use to test HIV/AIDS. They told us this the Saturday before the event. Luckily, one of the doctors that we use to test was more than happy to get tests for us…if we gave him a huge amount of money. Luckily, Luke and I used our “shady doctor” smarts and waited out the tests, which arrived the day after the doctor said he would go get them.
• The music that we hired blew their transformer, and told Mustapha the day before the event that they couldn’t come. Mustapha called me after finding the new music (smart boy…he knows I panic too easily) which he had to search for 4 hours by biking around the Newala plateau to find.
• Gigi and her kids took off from Newala at 7:30 am in order to roll into Makong’onda around 9. They arrived at 2:30pm. The car they threw a gear, and they sat on the side of the road waiting for a part for 2.5 hours before they finally made it. Because of the wait, they missed the theatre and big races, but they did make it for netball.
• The Makong’onda Day students did not receive a time to come to the school, and thus didn’t show up until around noon: if the Newala day kids HAD arrived on time they would have been doing all of the races by themselves (there were plenty of students by the time the ND kids arrived, so it wasn’t a problem).
• During the soccer game (the last event of the day) the Makong’onda teacher playing with the students decided that he didn’t like one of the calls the ref made, and solved the problem by grabbing the ref by the neck and throwing him to the ground, starting a riot that Luke and I had to help break up. We broke it up, so it wasn’t a huge issue, but it was a bad example for all of the students who were watching.

THE THINGS THAT WENT RIGHT

• All of the food was cooked the day before and was ready to roll. We had no issues, with the exception that there weren’t enough plates (Gigi’s kids had forgotten) and so we found any clean flat surface that would hold mountains of rice and beans to serve to people.
• JB’s 5K went extremely well, with 5 of her children legitimately beating her at the race, and 25 more children following close behind. The first three finishers all won a pencil set, and the rest of the children scored notebooks and pens to use during school – EVERYONE was a happy winner
• All of the relay races went well, and with the exception of the condom station, most of the kids ran and finished fast
• Netball was done without any fights this year, not that there was a lot of peace and love on the field, but all of the fights were broken up before they began (this happened mostly because I threatened to kick out all of the girls from my team when they cheated – then I had to yell the same thing at the Newala team).
• The Dancing Contest was a huge hit, thanks to the awesome prizes sent to me by my parents. We had students dance first for school supplies. Then our daring judges (Atif and Luke) held up the coveted prize – The American paring knife. We called for village mamas to come into the circle, one mama almost took down our makeshit fence to get into the center ring, and one “grandmother” got into the middle and shook it – winning the prize (nearly starting a fight with the other mamas). The little girls that we called into the ring started dancing, and THE CROWD WENT WILD. If you look at the picture you can see JB, Atif, and Luke all dying laughing. Boys danced into the ring along with mamas and students to give the young ladies “gift money” for dancing, it was ridiculous.
• All of the kids from the conferences got up and gave speeches to the crowd about what they learned at the Peace Corps conferences. The boys talked about what they learned in Ndanda with Lindsey and Laura and the girls did their women’s day skit again. The crowd enjoyed the speeches and afterwards many new kids came up to me and asked when they would be allowed to sign up to go to conferences this year…
• Halfway through one of the performances the crowd cleared out of the tent area, and two men started swinging heavy sticks into the crowd. At first we were terrified a fight was breaking out, until we heard “SNAKE! SNAAAAAAAAAAKE!” Immediately all of the kids ran out from under the tent, only to get close enough to see the men start to pound it, shrieking and running away every time the snake got away and inched closer to the crowd. Fortunatly, the men with the drums beat the snake into oblivion with one of the drums (there were two people killed in our ward this year from snake bites…hence the panic) and JB and I led a dance party to get the crowd back into their seats. IT WAS RIDICULOUS.

Overall, the day went extremely well. There were some kinks, but as you can see, the good greatly outnumbered the bad. We ended up testing 200 people for HIV, and performing for probably more than half of the village (500ish people) including the youth who came to watch the performances. Overall it was a very successful, educational, and chaotic day. A great way to end the “Pima Parade” in the Mnaviera ward!

Chikoropola Pima Day March 13th

2010-04-03T00:45:00.001-07:00

The Chikoropola PIMA day started out a bit like one of my favorite childhood books: Fortunately/Unfortunately…

FORTUNATELY we got all of the cooking done before we left for Chikoropola
UNFORTUNATELY we all got 3 hours of sleep because of the cooking
FORTUNATELY we had 3 bicycles ready the night before
UNFORTUNATELY we didn’t add to that number in the morning – and rode 3 to a bike
FORTUNATELY the Chikoropola kids were helpful and eager to set up
UNFORTUNATELY one of the eager ladies didn’t see me and shoved a stick directly into my eye, making me bleed
FORTUNATELY when the Peer Educators realized that I was ok, they thought it was hilarious
UNFORTUNATELY the little lady had to run away from school for “hitting the white girl”
FORTUNATELY it rained the night before and so didn’t rain during the event
UNFORTUNATELY the road was still bad, and Luke and the doctors got stuck on the way
FORTUNATELY Rama (my parents favorite driver in Tanzania) worked hard and with Lukes help, got the car unstuck
UNFORTUNATELY Lukes pants were covered in mud as he was bombarded by mud by the car when it got out of the hole
FORTUNATELY Luke and Rama detoured to my house and stole a pair of Mustapha’s pants, and Luke was the same size.

The entire day was crazy, but much less chaotic than Makong’onda Idol the year before, due to good preparation, planning, and owing a lot to the kids, who worked very, VERY hard to pull the event together. We planned a lot of activities for the kids and opened the music up to the general public (and when I say “opened up” what I mean is, we played it so loud that the villagers couldn’t ignore their shaking huts and came to see the cause of this earthquake).
The first and favorite of my activities, was the obstacle course. The children had to jump through sacks, shoot baskets, answer an HIV/AIDS question, and then sprint to the finish, where they were rewarded by a box of crayons, donated to me by my church last June (THANKS BARB!). The kids loved the crayons, and thus they swarmed the game for an hour and a half before we broke all of the sacks and made the course a sprint instead. The kids ran and ran, those who didn’t run the race ran on the sidelines to cheer on their friends, they ran all day…then danced….then followed me around…without tiring. Oh to be young again! 
While we were testing people, we set up a condom station, with one male peer educator (Hamisi) and Habiba – who is our “condom expert”, since she always seems to be the one volunteering for the condom station. After male villagers tested, they were allowed to take 8 condoms, but ONLY if they first showed the Peer Educators the proper technique for putting it on. Many people got a kick out of the exercise, and hopefully those “tips for improvement” that Hamisi and Habiba handed out all day will greatly help these men with their future conquests. The women (slightly more shy) were allowed to take condoms in privacy from the female nurse who was testing – several brave soles did try their luck, and most often succeeded on the first try more than the men!
The music was Mustapha’s department, as he was the MC (Master of Chaos). He shimmied his way across the roped in area, dancing with the kids, wrangling in the performers, and organizing all of the impromptu games. The Peer Educators did all of their skits, earning lots of laughs, and many “Mama back-slaps”. The favorites were definitely the skit on drug abuse, since the three young people who are completely inebriated in the skit originally hail from Chikoropola (the lead asked his mother to please not come to the show, he didn’t want her to see him drunk!).
After the skits there were impromptu speakers, both from the young men in the village and the smaller boys in the audience. Their performances were hilarious, some great and some awful (which earned way more cheers). We decided to mix up these performances with dance contests, and we began pulling kids from the crowd to dance for school supplies (Pencils, these provided from my hometown church in Marengo) (THANKS MARY!). Many of the contests were just too close to call, and we ended up going through pencils very quickly, ending our show and our time in Chikoropola.

FORTUNATLY the day was a success, 205 people tested, 160 happy primary school children, and 500 free condoms.
UNFORTUNATLY we all had colds and lost our voices the entirety of the following week.
FORTUNATLY we all knew it was worth it, and can’t wait to do it again!

PEER EDUCATION MADNESS March 12th

2010-04-03T00:33:00.001-07:00

Bike riding is fun. The wind in your hair, the speed of the tires, and the beautiful scenery: people may even say that bike riding is relaxing.

These people should bike ride in Tanzania.

In general – I have a love/hate relationship with my Tanzanian bicycle – I love to hate it. When the bike is in working order (this usually lasts about 30 minutes – 2 hours), I can manage to pedal it to JB’s village (5 K away) without walking, kicking the back tire, or aggressively threatening the well-being of the bicycle. If there is a village that is farther away that JB’s, I generally prefer to walk – or simply to say that I will visit and then cleverly find excuses that allow me to never follow through. The grand exception to the “excuse rule” are Peer Education days – physically impossible to occur without the use of a bicycle.
On our first Peer Education day, I knew it would be long, judging by the amount of students who showed up, and the amount of bicycles that showed up. 6 bikes for 14 students. Never allowing a moment to pass without teaching a lesson, I pointed out that one of the students must have miscalculated and implored them all to re-do the math. All of us were clearly not going to fit on 14 bikes. After many negotiations and pleading – we managed to get 1 more bike – and thus traveled two students to a bike – one driving, and the other either on the front or the back of the bike. Because I’m the leader, I used my authority to secure the smallest student to ride with me…leaving the rest of them to fight over the smaller students.
Mapili, a village WAY OUT THERE, was our first stop on the tour. When we arrived, sweaty and excited, we were met with excited kids and curious teachers – who seemed to wonder what we were doing there. After more negotiations (including me reminding the teacher that I had in fact sent 1 letter and 3 students to talk to supervisors of the school) we were allowed to perform – which went extremely well. The kids were shy and quiet, my PEs were intimidated because it was their first performance, and admittedly things went a little south when one of the new Mapili “teachers” (a student whom I had the year before and who I flunked in my class before he was expelled by the headmaster) stood up and told the kids that I was lying to them (while answering a question), and African doctors proved that HIV was caused by European men and then given to Africans during WW1. Luckily, my counterpart (Simba) fielded the reply, and we headed off to Chikoropola, village of origin for more than half of the peer educators.
Chikoropola school has always been one of my favorites. As we rolled in to the school we were immediately given the rock star treatment – small children followed us (and by us I mean me) everywhere we went, giggling and repeating everything I said. This show was REALLY good, the PEs came out of their shells, the kids participated and sang along to every song, and the head master was very supportive. We left tired but extremely happy, until we realized that we had to ride 45 minutes home.

Uphill.

In the rain.

The ride wasn’t that bad, mostly because it wasn’t a ride, it was a sprint from cashew tree to cashew tree in the pouring rain, and between these bursts of speed the boys rode the bikes and the girls walked. Exhausted, we got back to the house, ate lunch, and discussed the day. All of the kids agreed that it had gone well. We made adjustments to some skits, had a brief meeting, and then agreed that everyone would meet at my house in 2 hours to prepare signs and food for the next day, when we would return to Chikoropola again for a PIMA day.
It was a great start to the great Peer Education tour…coming to a school near you (if you happen to live near a school in the Mnaviera ward of Masasi district, Tanzania)!

PICTURE AND VIDEO EXPLANATION:

All pictures were taken in Mapili, Chikoropola, Makong'onda, or Nakarara performances. All are the students who act during their performances, and one of me and the kids singing a song.

Womens Day March 8th

2010-04-03T00:21:00.000-07:00

When JB told me that she had received a letter from our ward secretary inviting her to the women’s day event in Mnaviera, I felt a pang of jealousy. True, I had been out of village when the meeting was held and the invitation issued, but I still felt that I should have been included. It wasn’t until JB let me know that her 20K round trip bike ride to Mnaviera (in boiling midday heat) and back for the meeting resulted in her only seeing 1 person who told her the meeting had already taken place (in fact it took place 2 hours earlier than they said) that I felt WAY better – for JB had brought good news as well: I WAS invited to Women’s Day, and we could each make a presentation with our kids.
Upon receiving this information, I immediately looked up my Wascichana Wanaweza (Women Can) ladies who went to our ladies conference last June. I explained to the ladies that they would be given a chance to perform at womens day, that this would be their opportunity to teach people about women’s empowerment, and that they would be the hit of the day, considering that everyone would want to see their awesome performance. I added a little motivation to the end of the speech (in the form of GUILT and BEGGING), and finally the girls agreed that they would make a performance – enlisting the help of three boys, a netball, and a used gin bottle (filled with water).
When Miss JB and her ladies group (a mixed group of in/out of school young ladies 14-16) showed up to Makong’onda the following Monday, we were ready with our entourage, and we took off for Mnaviera. The stage they built was huge, and the crowd intense…the spectacle of both JB and myself was just mind boggling for the small children of the village, and so they maintained a 5 inch radius around us from the moment we arrived until the moment we escaped for home.
We realized that this would be a large event when the cars from Masasi showed up, and officials from the department of Education (including the ever-elusive district education officer) stepped out. Right on schedule (only 2 hours behind) we started the festivities, the drummers and dancers from Makong’onda kicking things off by parading into the circle, drumming, shrieking, and dancing up a storm. Village choirs from all over the ward (Namombwe, Manuli, Mnaviera, Makong’onda) danced and sang about women. They sang about the difficulties facing women, the lack of respect, and the strength that they had. They sang about how the government never funds their projects, how men never do any of the household help and yet demand so much, and how they wish they could put their daughters through school so that they could have better lives. During each song the women received money from the guests of honor, dancing to the head table and putting the “gift” money into an envelope for each group. It was a wild show, but very inspiring for all of the women there, who cheered and cried out their approval at the points they enjoyed in the songs, ESPECIALLY any point that referred to the laziness, stubbornness, or carlesness of men.
At the end of the 5th (and final) choir, the guest of honor began to get restless. By now it was 2 pm (we had been there since 9am) and he was ready to go. Though our kids (the final act) had not yet performed, the MC stood and announced that there was no more time and that the guest of honor had to leave, as per Tanzanian tradition, there would be no acts following his speech. JB, Amos (who was there on behalf of our headmaster) and myself were upset, our kids had missed school, stood in the heat for 5 hours waiting, and were now denied the chance to do their skits – despite the fact that women’s day is supposed to be about uplifting women – teaching young girls to have pride in themselves. No better way to show this to young girls than by telling them flat out that the male guest of honors speech and time is more important than allowing them 10 minutes to perform.
After making the announcement, the MC decided that there WAS enough time for he himself to sing a song, and so he did. 5 written pages and 10 full minutes of off-key, unaccompanied, noise. At this point JB and I started to be passive aggressive: after all – our kids were just denied the chance to participate in the contest, but the MC was given 10 minutes to show off his ability (or lack there of) to sing? Through the entire song, and JB and I whispered short asides to Amos and our kids, glaring at the MC through the entire song, and making a point of shaking our heads when he finally finished. At the end, the guest of honor turned to the MC and pointed over to the two of us. The MC then reluctantly announced that the groups of Makong’onda and Nakarara would be allowed 5 minutes ONLY to perform their skits, then the show would be over.
Not wasting a bit of time, JB and I launched the kids into action – filling the whiskey bottles and giving our leads their costumes. The group from the girls conference went first, portraying a family whose daughter had just passed to go into secondary school, but whose drunken father refused to let her study because she was a girl. The crowd loved it, and money was thrown onto the table (the MC didn’t get any money for his song – FYI). During the skit, the mother of the family asked the father if he could do all the work that she did, while HE was pregnant. He thought it over, and in his ‘dream sequence’, Jafari Issa – the head boy of my school – tried to do the housework, a strategically placed netball making him appear to be in his third trimester. THE CROWD WENT CRAZY.
The skits were both a great success, JBs ladies did great, raking in more gift money than we did (my pride-injured boys claimed that this was because people were laughing so hard at them they couldn’t throw money at the same time). Most importantly, all of the girls and boys who went with us that day benefited from the experience of seeing all of the songs and performances. They benefited from seeing African women sing about their rights and needs, and the benefited from showing the village and officials their perspective was on the issues.
We all went home hot and hungry, but most importantly we went home feeling happy, successful, and empowered. And THAT is what WOMENS day is all about.

THE LIBRARY IS FINISHED! March 3rd

2010-04-03T00:12:00.000-07:00

On the last Saturday in February, the first-ever Librarians of Makong’onda Day Secondary School arrived early in the morning (surprisingly on time) to convene the first ever meeting at the new Makong’onda Library.
The week before, the school board had granted our request of allowing the allotment of school academic fees to match 10% of the donation that we received from America. This money and the donated funds in hand, I went to the big book store in Mtwara, ordering the books that students had spent the week listing that we needed for the library. (Recap: there were no History, Geography, or Civics books in the school, nor dictionaries or more that half of the OLD syllabus for English Literature, and NONE of the books for the NEW syllabus.) The last shipment of books arrived in Masasi shortly after a trip I made to Dar es Salaam, and thus all of them were ready to be labeled and ordered in the library when I returned.
When I arrived at the library, the clouds looked threatening, and so we hurried all of the books into their new home as the first sprinkles began to hit the ground. We decided that in order to put all of the books in alphabetical order by subject and title it would be easier to remove all of them from the library, and then return them by subject. At first it seemed like a good idea, until we realized that with the new donated books (we received 50 from a local Tanzanian politician when he saw our library efforts in early January), and the books we were able to purchase with donated funds (over we had a grant total of 500) we had nearly 1500 books in the library, and some of those books were HEAVY. None the less, we started the process of hauling and sorting each book by subject - Habiba smacking people with her crutch as part of her “motivational supervison” – and began numbering and writing the names on each of the books.
The storm clouds finally gave berth to a huge rain and lightning storm, which the kids responded to by turning up our little radio (it had been loud enough to summon the dead, now it was loud enough to wake the dinosaurs) and hustling all of the books from our main corridor back into the library where they would be protected from the wind. At times the students needed a little motivation (cue Habiba – WHAP!), as they kept stalling the work to hide in the corner and read one of our new books. Even when we took a chai break, each student grabbed a book and read while drinking their tea. When my house help Joy came running through the storm, face tear-streaked, (Joy is TERRIFIED of lightning) the boys simply set her down with a book, and she read for an hour until the storm let up and she could go home.
When the library books were all put away, counted, and catalogued, we had a short meeting concerning our training, how we would take care and lend out the books, and how to discipline students should they lose a book or break one of our rules. The next day, the real work would begin, but as I was going to the marathon, I would not be able to see how the first week would go. I feared I would return to an empty room and harassed and angry librarians.
When I tentatively walked through the doors of our library, I noticed a strange sound…sweeping. It was followed by a strange visual…all of the books were in order. I peeked around the door; there stood all 4 of my new librarians, two with brooms, and one making a list of students to “hunt down and threaten” at the morning assembly (students who did not return books the night before).
“Good morning Mwalimu!”
“MWALIMU! You didn’t fall off of the Mountain!”
“Mwalimu, we need a new notebook, this one is all finished”.
The notebook comment threw me, I had given them the notebook (which we use to write the names of students, the books, and the book number) from last year, which was less than half full. Baffled, I flipped through the pages. The library had seen more than 250 different students and had lent out more than 300 books in less than 7 days, AND THEY DIDN’T LOSE A SINGLE BOOK. Teachers had lent out books and had written down the names and numbers.
I was so proud of my librarians, and I’m proud that my school KNOWS how to use the resources that they were given. There are still some minor improvements to be made: we need a ladder so that our smallest student doesn’t break his neck while shelving books, we also are waiting for a new filing cabinet to organize all of the past school exams, finally we are waiting for our new tables to arrive – they will be organized in one of the classrooms with electricity, so that the students have one quiet room in the school where they can go to study. Overall, the library project was a HUGE success. Even now, as I sit next to one of my librarians typing my blogs, I’m watching students filter in and out, taking and returning books, and listening to my librarian list off the rules to students who try to take more than one book or persuade him to let him take a book without writing it down. The students of Makong’onda now have the resources they need to study without teachers, the teachers now have the resources they need to teach, and everyone at the schools recognizes that these resources can help them achieve so much more on their exams and in their education.
Makongonda Library: $2500, 150 books, 247 brighter futures.

LIBRARY PICTURES! MARCH 2010

2010-03-22T05:30:00.000-07:00

I have a really nice blog post written about how we finished the library, but it did not make it onto my flash drive! Luckily, all of the pictures from the library adventure did make it on to the flash-drive, and thus you can enjoy and draw your own conclusions...after all a picture is worth a thousand words.

This blog is being posted after the offical opening of the library in March. When I last counted, we had lent out books over 1000 times, and not 1 was lost.

Technical, Practical, and Mechanical Difficulties March 2010

2010-03-05T07:30:00.000-08:00

Writing this, I realize it has been a very long time since my last blogs, and you the viewer are naturally disappointed. I am very sorry to disappoint you, this has been a very busy and LONG rainy season.

This is just a very short blog that will chronicle what I will soon be posting, and the reasons that I will be posting them within the week (instead of right now)...

The Adventures...
- THE LIBRARY IS FINISHED! Students have started checking out books this week, teachers and students are delighted with the new system, I can't wait to put up pics!
- PEER EDUCATION CONTINUES! The kids have finished HIV training and moved on to assertiveness, their first performance in Friday the 12th of March
- THE MARATHON! This is something that you can do in America, but its more fun when you have a few Tanzanian difficulties there on the course, and everything is always more fun on TEAM DEEP SOUTH.
- WOMENS DAY! This is actually on the 8th of March, but I'm sure you'll hear all about it, all of my kids (close to 30) that I have worked with during my time here are making skits and getting excited to perform.

The Excuses...
- COMPUTER DIFFICULTIES. Directly after typing the titles, authors, and quantities of books in the library, my computer decided that it would die for 2 weeks. Coming back to life 2 weeks later only to mock my father (who JUST sent a new computer).
- RAIN DIFFICULTIES. It rains here. A LOT. Though Rainwater is extremely tasty and surprisingly worm free, we none the less have some problems keeping things in the house dry, and most importantly - getting places. We know its a problem when you can't get the 5 kilometers from my village to JBs village by car without fearing for your life.
- BUSY. I am in my final semester, and trying to cram as much of one years worth of learning into the last few months. It has been hectic correcting all of those tests (even with those new red pens courtesy of the L&W Feeders) and overseeing the student run supervision of the library, and running peer education, and trying to run up mountains after JB (who is really a robot programed never to tire no matter what the heat or humidity may be), and harvesting my pumpkins (SO TASTY).

Ok, that all I can squeak out now. Computer difficulties depending, if I am able to get together some time in the week you will soon have the extended version of my Makongonda Adventures, complete hopefully with pictures!

Love to all from Tanzania!

The Many Ways to Wear a Khanga

2010-03-05T07:26:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up, one of my favorite things to do was quilt with my Grandmother. My Grandmother’s sewing room was one of the brightest, most beautiful rooms – filled with every color of fabric imaginable. Her quilts were vibrant, filled with all colors of clothing that had carried her children and grandchildren through all of the stages of their lives. When I got to Africa, the first person I thought of was my Grandmother – in every store you can find the bright colored fabrics from Kitenges and Khangas, the traditional cloth worn here – I couldn’t help but think that it was a cruel twist of fate that my Grandmother never got to visit Africa and to select from the wide variety of shades and colors available. On the other hand, fate smiled on my Grandfather, who surely would have needed a bigger house to hold all of the fabric my Grandmother would have bought…

This piece is about Khangas…a fashion show in two stages: the first segment will be about Khangas, the second Kitenges. The two Ks of our clothing can be defined as this:

Kitenge – A bolt of fabric, many times reflecting a pattern of a repeated object or just boldly colored. Kitenges are used most often to sew into dresses, they have no saying on the bottom. (Typically 5 dollars for 3ish yards)

Khanga – a two part piece of cloth with a vibrant pattern surrounded by a border on four sides. (Typically 3.50 for 2 sheets)

Each Khanga has a unique saying, such as:
- Usinisumbue Don’t bother me
- Mungu anakupenda atakupa If God likes he will give it to you
- Maisha ni safari ndefu Life is a long journey
- Maziwa ya mama ni tamu Breast Milk is Sweet

Some of the sayings have a deep meaning, others, like the last, are ridiculous, and most of the times these are the Khangas we cherish the most.

Khangas can be used for just about anything. Once you purchase a khanga, you never, EVER, get rid of it, and thus sometimes you are forced to think up new and creative ways to get your money’s worth out of that cloth…here are a few of the more common uses for the Khanga in our village…

1. The Traditional Wrap. Khangas are most often used to protect us, as women of the south, from those men who would be so bold as to try to sneak a peak at our knee caps. Keepers of the moral code, we wrap Khangas around ankle length dresses and skirts (worn usually over tights or longer underwear) in order to warn off Don Juan.

Often – especially for us Americans – 2 layers can be a little much in the heat, but we take the discomfort over the serious repercussions of what could occur if we did not wear them: SSB – Sudden Shock Blindness. When the sunlight first kisses the shocking white of our liberated kneecaps, the reflected rays are so intense, they can burn the retinas of anyone who looks directly at them. The victim is first shocked at the bright white bony spectacle, and then blinded (suddenly). Due to the seriousness of this disease – both JB and I tend to keep our Khangas wrapped around us, no matter the discomfort, for the good of the community (and protection of the eyesight of silly curious peepers everywhere).

2. Baby Carrier/Diapers/Diaper Bag. Babies are wonderful in Tanzania, and mothers love nothing more than to parade them everywhere, but the incredible amount of sand and lack of sidewalks made strollers an impracticality. Naturally, something must be done to keep these bright eyed beauties in circulation around the community, and thus, the baby carrier, similar to a backpack, was invented.
The Khanga is simply laid over the baby, who is placed on the mothers back, then tied firmly in place right above the breast bone. The ability to swing the baby under the armpit and into the milking station is a necessity, and if there is difficulty in making the shift, you know you tied it incorrectly. For examples of correct form see models JB and Bryan above, or the two young women with their babies, who demonstrate both backpack and “easy access” positions.

3. Head Gear. Here in Makong’onda, women and men display the biceps and triceps that most people in the United States would sweat hours for in the gym (or pay thousands for in implants). We (and by we I mean the collective we who live in the village and not personally myself, I have rather pathetic looking arms that deflate like balloons when intimidated by the average Tanzanian’s arm) get these burly biceps from hoeing our fields, and since we need the strength to hoe the fields, it follows that we cannot hand carry our hoes with us. Prime backpack space is already taken up by babies, so we can’t carry them on our backs either. So where do we put these hoes, buckets, mangos, cassava, or anything else that must be carried? On our Heads! Khangas when rolled into tiny convenient balls hold just about anything, and provide comfort to the head, which we use to carry just about anything.

For examples, See Rehema, who is preparing to load her head, or the Mango ladies with my mother (who is doing an excellent demo on how to use a khanga to prevent SSB).

4. Every Piece of Clothing on a Small Child. Khangas are super easy to clean. Place in soapy water. Shake bucket (spin cycle). Place in clean water bucket and shake again (rinse cycle), hang to dry for 20 minutes. Wear. Because of the ease with which we can clean a khanga, it is no surprise that we use them for every piece of our wardrobe. It’s also no surprise that we allow our children to where them everywhere. Here, most children have exactly one nice set of clothes, one set of playclothes, and the pick of any khanga that their mother is not currently wearing. Tied behind the neck, worn like a towel across the belly, or wrapped like a toga, children have more ways to wear a khanga than anyone, due to their stature advantage and overall smallness.

For examples of child-like fashions, See JB and gang. Notice Haiba with the tied Khanga Dress. Can you count all of the different ways Khangas are used in the picture?

In short, Khangas are apart of the wonderfully colorful culture we have here in Tanzania. The versatility is amazing, the colors beautiful, their style one of a kind. No doubt when I get back to America I will bring many khangas, and with a little help from this handy-dandy guide, if you receive a khanga “zawadi”, you too can rock the khanga!

LIBRARY UPDATE! January 2010

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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!

TOP TEN REASONS THESE BLOGS ARE SO LATE!

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10. TRANSPORT ISSUES. The open-ended truck with a roll bar and barely functioning brakes, which serves as the only transportation to and from Makong’onda, keeps leaving the village at 4 in the morning, instead of 5 when they are supposed to, thus leaving me in the dust (or leaving me waiting until 6am when one of the Mamas finally wakes up, laughs at me, says the car passed, and goes back to sleep (usually to the sounds of me swearing, LOUDLY)).

9. CROC HUNTING. (channel the spirit of Crocodile Dundee for this reading). We start at Makong’onda village, where we bike almost 10 miles to the Ravuma River. There we encounter the half naked boat men who gladly give us rides in exchange for a percentage of whatever bounty we capture. We sneak up on the crocs, but they are tricky to see, trickier when no-one (even the crazy boat men) will go near places where they were sited. Thus, we leave empty handed, to limp the ten miles up hill back home in the heat, defeated once again by the grinning, green, great, gargantuan lizards!

SARCASM. I’M NOT HUNTING CROCS. CALM DOWN MOTHER. J

8. CHICKEN DEPOPULATION PROJECT: MAKONG’ONDA. Here in Makong’onda, we appear to have a chicken problem. They are everywhere…and they get into everything, the gardens, the house, the classroom…We’ve decided to get back at these pesky creatures once and for all…by eating them! Chickens are delicious, and the only source of meat that you can find in Makong’onda, or any village for 10K. Because of our extensive amount of guests, combined our own primal urges for meat, we have been working on thinning the population of chickens in Makong’onda. This is a personal small project, and I believe that the chicken depopulation project has ultimately been very successful.

7. OFFICAL POLICE BUSINESS. Before the final examinations at Makong’onda Day, one of the police men (who slept at the school until exams were over) asked me if I would do him the honor of frisking my female students in their paper thin pocketless green skirts, so that he didn’t have to embarrass the girls by doing it himself. Why am I frisking them you ask? Why, to confiscate all of those high-technology gadgets that all African village girls carry on them to use to cheat on their tests. As I made my way thorough the line of girls (who were howling with laughter, possibly because I did most of it with my eyes closed so that I didn’t have to look at them) I reached the end, and Danford, the first boy in the row jumped up, arms spread as wide as the grin covering his face, “My turn! MY TURN!”. My refusal was loud and apparently devastating, as all of the boys moaned and complained (to my retreating backside) about the girls getting “more thoroughly searched”.

6. BICEP BUILDING. This is actually a personal project, involving me carrying water from my home to my garden, and then back to my home, in 20L buckets. 4 repetitions. I also routinely carry around my students’ biology and English notebooks, (all 110 of them) to and from the school. 3 repetitions. Finally, I lift daily, 20 minutes with each arm, my 6 month old friend Brian, who is just starting to eat solid foots, and thus starting to get really heavy. Repetitions dependant upon diapers and access to milk. Though my favorite buff male students still laugh and my weak arms when I try to invite them “TO THE GUN SHOW”, they are starting to get better…

5. NAPS. We have once again entered that stage in our weather where it is too hot to go out after 12, so I take naps. Lots of them. Until the sun goes away.

4. BREWING BOOZE. My buddy JB (see excuse number 3) and I decided that we would not be outdone by Luke’s homemade coconut wine (indeed, it would be hard to be outdone by this particular wine because it was GROSS!), and thus we decided to make ourselves some ginger wine. I heroically drove JB’s evil bicycle, which left scratches all over my left calve, to Nakarara in order to make the wine. We cleaned a bucket, boiled the water (truthfully, she did that before I got there), put in the ginger, 4 kilos of sugar (to the shock of her neighbors), and yeast, then mixed. We waited 3 weeks to taste…pretty potent stuff!

3. NEWBIE. We have a new girl in the vill who hails from Washington DC named Jenny Beth. She’s awesome, likes to run (and is willing to run painfully slow in order to keep up with/encourage me), and is one heck of a knowledgeable gardener. She can be found on any given day roaming the fields of Nakarara looking for something to whack with her machete or a piece of ground where she can thrust her spade. The good people of Nakarara love her, and the here students behave better for her (which is amazing). I’m super excited about having an awesome person to buddy-up with on new projects….stay tuned for our next escapades.

2. AMERICA! One of my students (Mustafa) was very blessed and lucky to get the opportunity to get into the American Embassy Young Leaders program. When we got the phone call we both jumped up and down screaming. When our eardrums and sanity were regained we realized (and by we I really mean I) that we had a lot to do, such as getting passport papers, non-exsistant birth certificates, borrowing a coat that will defend his heat hardened Tanzanian shell from the Colorado cold...it is going to be a busy month before he leaves!

1. ZA MAISHA TANZANIA (Tanzanian Life). Life here goes by so quickly. I didn’t actually realize until a message from my father (something along the line of “we were wondering if you were still alive…”) that it had been so darn long since I had written a blog. With the garden, exercise, crocodile hunting, guests that come and go, seminars, classes, tests, the library, soccer finals, and peace corps reports, its been a busy 3 months. I promise with the help of my new tiny computer I will try to give you bigger, better updates.

As you know, all updates and stories are TOTALLY worth the wait!

Peace and Love from Tanzania!

Mirinda

The Great Garden Project! October 17th

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Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime.

Since the creation of the garden outside my house I have received a lot of attention both from my students and villagers alike. Many people in passing were just plain shocked that the white girl was able to actually make her own garden and many others were inspired (probably something along the lines of “if she can do it, ANYONE can do it….which is true…really). Many people began to ask me when we were going to start to make their gardens…and when I thought about it, I realized that this was a project that would require very little money, which would make it a project that would be perfect for….SUSTAINABILITY!
With the help of Jenny Beth, local garden expert from the village next door, my sidekick Musty, camera man Luke, and some awesome flipcharts (which I drew with the help of my AWESOME new colored pencil set from my cousin Verla while eating the AMAZING pork bites (PORK BITES! DELICIOUS!) that my cousin Jan sent), we were able to create a really cool nutrition/permaculture seminar. We invited 10 mamas from the village, IMPLORING them to be on time so that JB (Jenny Beth) would be able to show them how to do the digging and different garden techniques without the sun being a huge nuisance.
We were prepared to start at 8am, which means we weren’t actually expecting anyone to show until 9am…but every Mama arrived at 7:59. This was a great start! JB started the seminar in the garden while I begged/prodded/cursed the DVD player to use my gardening DVD (it didn’t work….at all, BA!). When they returned from double digging, a technique that allows the roots to grow deeper, thus allowing plant spacing to be closer, thus allowing more plants on less space, thus saving water, they were ready to hear all I had to say about nutrition.
We felt that the most important thing to get out of the way was WHY we were building a garden, and WHY other people didn’t already have a garden. The biggest problem was seeds and water, where o where were we going to get water to put on the garden (seeds they were getting from me). This was one of the biggest problems that we addressed. JB took it from a gardening point of view, saying that the compost that we could make and the double digging that we would do in the garden would help contain the water so that less would be needed. I came back with the practical point of view, saying that water used to wash dishes (soap? Please, they never use soap and in the words of JB, “nonbacterial soap is not harmful, and actually adds phosphate (A MACRONUTRIENT) to the plant), water used to bathe children, and water that is used to mop can all be saved to put onto the garden. Not to mention the dirty water that is found around the pump (from the leaks). When all of the Mamas began to nod their heads we realized we had them hooked. So we hit them with a double barrel of nutrition information.
Make a garden, eat better. Short and simple.
By the end of the seminar, the Mamas were really excited, and so were we. One by one (without any encouragement what so ever from me) they stood and gave a little speech about how excited they were to build their gardens. One Mamas speech was especially touching “We’re gonna get out there and we’re gonna make those gardens! Then we’re gonna eat better! Our kids are gonna eat better! We’re gonna plant GREEN PEPPERS (I don’t actually know why she was that excited about green peppers, but that was totally the end of her pep talk…green peppers!)!” After this speech, all of the Mamas got up, filed out, and went back to their business. Us instructors took a nap.
Two days later, every single Mama had a fence built and their beds double dug (or at least dug really, really deep). Other Mamas, having heard of my awesomeness, asked when their seminar would start. In another village, where water is better available, several Mamas asked when we would be able to teach there. The project was indeed a success, and we hope to continue to make as many gardens as possible until we have to quit because of the rain. Out of all of my projects in Tanzania, this was definitely one of the most fulfilling. I can walk about my village having already planted three gardens and peek in to see huge amounts of seedlings popping up in every direction! It’s an exciting time to be living (and eating!) in Makong’onda!

Mazoezi (exercize) Late October

2009-10-29T23:10:00.001-07:00

“Mirinda, we see you really like Makong’onda”
“Oh really? Why is that?”
“Because you have gotten so FAT!”
It wasn’t until I learned 5 new ways of how to say “Hey Mirinda, you’re fat”, that I decided that a little exercise may be needed to spice up my life. This isn’t to say that I have blimped out, on the contrary, I haven’t gained that much weight or changed a size since I came back from my mid service checkup, where I had been shown to have gained a little weight (thank YOU America!), but not enough to reap the judgment that I have been getting in my little vill. To be sure, telling someone they are fat is a huge complement in Tanzania, often used when you are wearing a new dress or just re-meeting a past acquaintance. However, to be told by the village nurse, in front of every mama at the dispensary, that you need to start exercising and eating less at meals because you are SO FAT, goes beyond the complement stage and suggests that maybe I should do something so that people will stop telling me I’m fat.
Luckily, we have the trip to Kilimanjaro coming up in a little less than a month, meaning that we all needing to get into shape anyway. This gave me the opportunity to coerce all 11 of my students to run, sweat, and curse at the concept of exercise together with me. At first, they were all incredibly excited by the concept, we run, we laugh, we get fit. After a week, reality set in for me….”why did I eat so much in America, running is not fun, owwwwwwwwwwww I’m in pain….etc”, however the kids didn’t have any complaints at all. In fact, when I told them the first day we were only running 20 minutes they laughed and started to sprint away, until I warned them they would all be sore in the morning (HAHAHAHA, I won that battle, they could barely walk the next morning) and that we really needed to walk back to stretch.
My favorite running experience was the first 30 minute run with two of my favorite students, Jaffery and Andrew. We left right at the beginning of a graduation ceremony, so there were a lot of people in the street, and a lot of small children, none of whom had ever seen the white girl run before. Before we were out of the village limits, we had an army of barefooted, torn-shirted, shrieking children following us. At first it wasn’t that bad, there were giggles, the flap-flap of flip-flops slapping down on the dirt road, we just figured they would eventually turn around.
Wrong.
“Jaffery, tell the children to stop following you.”
“Ha, Madame they are not to be following me, just, they following you”
“No they aren’t, they’re in awe of your biceps…ask them yourself”
“Children, who are you following?”
“WE ARE FOLLOWING MIRINDA! MIRINDA IS RUNNING AND WE ARE FOLLOWING HER!”
“See I was tolding you”
“Ba!”
The next trick up our sleeve was to pick up the pace, but the boys soon realized that they would sooner lose me than lose all of the children, and they were kind enough not to let me face the screaming horde alone. There were some bright spots to having the children along. Typically the boys would veer off of the road and into the cashew fields to grab cashew fruit themselves, but now they had a small army of slaves within whom they had seniority. Children scatted to find the best fruits for Jaffery while others ran loyally at my side. We also never had to worry about a bike sneaking up on us…
“MIRINDA! BICIKELI!”
“BICIKELI! BICIKELI! MIRINDA, SEE THE BICIKELI!”
The only thing we truly worried about was one of our little soldiers taking a bicycle in the back for me, as they seemed well able to scream when one was coming, but not so adept at getting out of the way when one wizzed by. After saving the third tiny collarbone that couldn’t make it out of the way fast enough, Andrew turned around and told the children that he was just going to let them get run over…we saw it as a tough love approach. Luckily for the kids, we turned around at Mnaviera (the next village, a little under 5 K away) and began walking home, thus giving them more opportunities to search for fruit in the fields that lined the road, and stare at the huge sores that had welted up all over their feet as the result of running the entire way to Mnaviera bare-footed. The boys finally ditched me about 1K away from Makong’onda, slowly jogging so that villagers would think they had been jogging the entire time (posers). At this point I didn’t mind the abandonment, the children and I walked back hand in hand, sucking on the fruits they had brought from the bush and singing silly songs the whole way home.

On Being a Village Mama October 17th

2009-10-29T23:05:00.000-07:00

Without Mamas, I’m positive that village life would be utterly impossible. Mamas are the true backbone of Tanzania. They care for the children, walk to their fields to plant crops, carry the water (waiting at the pump in the blazing sun for hours) for the entire household, hand wash the clothing for the entire household (including the soiled clothes that are used as diapers), feed the mouths of those who reside in or within the vicinity of their household, and they make time to visit one another while plaiting each others hair. It tires me just to write all of these chores, and while I sometimes manage to do all of these tasks in one day, it exhausts me to the point of wanting to lie in my bed and sleep for the rest of the week. I feel like I accomplish so much by doing these household chores, but really, doing all of the washing, sweeping, cooking, and gardening doesn’t help me teach the students, it doesn’t get their papers graded, or the library cleaned out, and it doesn’t help me with the various health projects I have started in the community. When I stop to think about it, the household chores are just a burden that keeps me from my actual work: but these chores ARE the ACTUAL WORK for every Mama in the vill. For this, I admire the strength and humor that each Mama brings to these tasks. Sometimes when they are feeling charitable, they allow me to come and help them with some of the more “white-person attainable” tasks. On the 17th of October, this included the cutting of firewood with Mama Semi and Semi.
There are dead trees everywhere in Makong’onda. Many of them are the direct result from the burning that farmers use to clean the dead brush off of their fields. What they don’t see (in the long term, and we NEVER see the long term here) is that they are not only killing the trees that add important soil nutrients and help prevent soil erosion, but as they leave their fields with burning piles in their wake, they don’t watch the wind blow the fire into the rest of the brush, thus starting the rain-starved cashew nut trees on fire, and thus ruining the field all together. To cut firewood, we set off for one of these desecrated fields, 2 machetes and an army of small children in hand.
When we arrived at the field, I received my first lesson in cutting the trees. Mama Semi lifted her machete, struck the branch in the same place 4 times in a row, and then pulled the tree to the ground. Once down, she up-ended the tree and neatly sliced every single small branch, leaving a clean, smart, and straight piece of wood. The entire process took less than a minute. Taking my machete and strutting to another tree, I decided that I was going to make this look every bit as easy as Mama Semi, who if, at 5 foot nothing and weighing barely 120 pounds, could make this look easy, then so could I. I was barely through the second strut to the tree before Mama Semi removed my machete and ran her finger over the blade, then showed me the finger. I looked at her and shrugged. She replied that there was no blood on her finger. Puzzled as to why that was a bad thing, I asked her why that was a bad thing. She said that the blade was not sharp enough. I amusedly pointed out that in the case I missed, at least we knew I wouldn’t completely chop my hand off. Smirking, and surrounded by the giggles of the girls, Mama Semi moved aside and allowed me to proceed.
My first chop in the wood was good, only about 1 cm deep, but low on the tree, a good start. My second chop was good too, about 1.5cm deep, and about 3 inches above the first mark. Now my third chop had a higher probability of going into one of those holes, because I had just doubled my targets. No such luck. In fact, by the end of the 7th chop, the bottom of the tree was merely filled with 7 small and distinct pock marks, its small branches trembling slightly after receiving each one, as if the tree was laughing at me with each stroke of my blade. At this point, I decided to take a more American approach, I wrapped my hands around the top and proceeded to shake the life out of the dead tree, encouraging it with colorful American metaphors to come “out of the damn ground”. At this point, Mama Semi was on the ground with the 4 girls, and all of them were convulsing with laughter, Mama Semi shaking so hard I would have assumed she was having a seizure had she not punctuated each shake with an ear splitting snort. After composing herself, Mama Semi apologized to the tree (TO THE TREE! HMMMPH!) and then with one fatal swing (that only would have worked with the help of my strategically placed small dent (just saying)) she felled the tree. She said she thought I was getting the hang of it though, and turned me loose with the army of small children while she went off to cut more trees on her own.
Semi and I proved to be an excellent team, and in less that 45 minutes, we had 19 tall trees, one of which I was able to fall in less than a minute and 10 of which I needed Semi to help me fall, at 12 years old, she is already far more proficient with a machete than I. We returned with our booty to the clearing where Mama Semi was tying all of her trees together. All together, we made a decent team, in 45 minutes, we both cut more than 18 trees (I cut 19, she cut 52). As we carried the loot back through the village (each young lady with a huge bundle of at least 15-20 a top her head, me with 7 in a hand-held bundle) the villagers hooted congratulations to me for surviving my first wood-chopping experience, and congratulations to Mama Semi, for surviving putting up with me.
Being a Mama is HARD work, REALLY HARD work.

Form Four Finale October 14th

2009-10-29T23:00:00.000-07:00

After a stressful week of national examinations, late night cramming sessions under dull-glowing solar lamps and mid-day bean and flour stomach cramming sessions before afternoon tests, the good form four students of Makong’onda Day were ready for a little break. Actually, they were ready for a long break, as the end of their national examinations marked the end of their ordinary level school careers. Due to lack of rainfall, thus causing the lack of a cashew crop, the students were unable to pay for their graduation outfits and celebration this year, and thus it was concluded that there would be no celebration at all. Feeling the need for closure, I proposed that we have one final soccer match: Form Four students vs. the world, 5 dollars to the winner. The students agreed readily and on October 14th, the action went down.
Because this was an event of infinite importance (the pride of the Form 4 boys on the line, the rest of the school wanting to take them down), nearly the entire village turned out for the match. Before the game the traditional camp emerged, the form 4 boys crowding around the hut of one of their supporters and trying on the schools frayed jerseys and soccer shoes (though we all knew the soccer shoes would come off their feet not even 20 minutes into playing), singing, desecrating their old school uniforms with borrowed American Sharpies, and finally, marching together to the field, to the hoots and cheers of most of the village (the other half was still deluded into thinking the rest of the school stood a chance).
The game began, and with it followed the ever traditional smack talk. It is unclear to me at this point whether I enjoy soccer games for the love of the sport, or for the creativity with which the fans of one team insult the fans of the other team. The form four fan base, made up primarily of the boys who were not playing, began by singing, chanting, and synchronized dancing around the field – dancing into or through or on-top-of the other students’ fans. The other students retaliated with several dances and songs of their own, though they were rewarded for their efforts by the sounds of screaming as the form four students scored their first and second goals during the first quarter.
The second quarter should have marked a turning point for the other students, who, with help of one embarrassed teacher (who later insisted he wasn’t trying to help them as a coach but more or less give them a few tips on how to lose more gracefully), and with the help of two fresh additions to the team, should have been able to make the two goals to put them back to a tie. They were able to score one goal, which sent the form three students screaming, cartwheeling, and backflipping across the field, terrified babies strapped to the backs of the female students. Alas the game was considered over when the form four students were able to score the last goal (even though the person who scored was being guarded by two other players, the goal keeper in the goal), then it became a battle of the last man standing. By the very end of the match, two injured form four students had to be helped off the field, a league of form 2 boys screaming and launching themselves onto the field like a herd of crazed antelope at every fallen man to carry/drag them from the pitch.
As the whistle shrilled the form four boys began singing a song, beseeching me to give them their 5$ (because they had beaten the crap out of form 3…or something along those lines). Once in possession of the money, the person who held the money was hoisted to the shoulders of the other students, and bumped along the field, their song loud and probably reaching every corner of Makong’onda. The rest of the students couldn’t stay angry at the rambunctious form fours, after all, this was their official last game. Everyone joined into their ridiculous song, and most ended up callopsed on the ground, in fits of giggles, or exhaustion.
It was a finale to be remembered, and their loud singing, obnoxious jeers, and determined playing are how I will always remember the Makong’onda Class of 2009.

Library Update...the Second! October 1st

2009-10-29T22:58:00.000-07:00

One of the huge points of Peace Corps is sustainability. This is often the point that crosses my mind the most as I do a project, as many of them would frankly just be unable to happen in my absence. With this in mind, its often hard to do a grant project, realizing that you are only reaching a select few people, who may or may not change their behaviors. Having learned this hard lesson, we none the less want to address the serious issue of teachers and learning resources at Makong’onda Day Secondary School. The children are here, they are willing to read, but where will they find the resources (especially if no-one is here to teach it to them). It is with the thoughts and goal of SUSTAINABILITY in mind that we start our new library at Makong’onda Secondary School.
After the discovery of all of the books, the building of the shelves, the screaming and complaining that accompanied the discovery of the rats, we realized that simply adding the new books into the library was not a wise decision. After all, how did the books come to be in the state they were in (the teachers placed all of the books in boxes in humid, festering, storage rooms because they didn’t want the students to steal/lose/read them), why were we missing a large number of books (the students AND the teachers stole many of the books), why hasn’t there ever been a library before now (no-one knew how to run/manage/build a library before now)? After a discussion with the student prefects and the headmaster we decided to select 3 student librarians along with several of the student prefects and do a training on how to manage/care for/ and maintain a library.
Our little seminar was attended by all of the student prefects and our three librarians on an early Saturday morning. Together we studied concepts that were easy, like “why is it necessary to have a library” and concepts that were more difficult, like alphabetization. I climbed up on my soapbox for a bit, telling each and every one of them that this library was “for the students, by the students”. We talked about ways to make the students AND teachers to care for the books, including paying a small fee (1 dollar) to use the library every year. We talked about making contracts for students to sign, saying that they would be willing to pay the price of a book should they lose it, and stating what library privileges they had. By the end of the session, I had some of the kids just and determined as me to see this library succeed, it was a promising start.
After I jumped down from the soapbox, I put them through “drills” in the library. I went in, destroyed one of the shelves (put books in backwards, upside down, in the wrong order, in the wrong subject) and then made the students put them back in the right order. I also took several of the files out of the filing cabinet and made each of them show me where to put it back (they got extra points if they could actually open the cabinet on the first try without help). By the end of the day, each of the students had gotten a grasp of book organization and had great ideas for meeting with the school administrators to ask for a little money for library books.
The entire seminar in my opinion was a great success, shown even more the next week when the three librarians punctually showed up at my house to take my keys and open the library to the students. With a small amount of guidance from me, and a lot of extra small trainings (this is why we don’t put the biology tests with the Kiswahili tests), we are starting to look like an organized outfit, and even the students are helping out, by returning their books on time and taking better care of the ones they borrow. Sustainability is what we are aiming for with the library, and I believe after 3 months of successful organization and implementation by the students, and another following 8 months of my “loose” supervision, we can realistically achieve it!

The Library Brigade! September 21st - October 2nd

2009-10-29T22:54:00.000-07:00

The Library project is finally making big progress at the school as we finished the cleaning and sorting of the books, chased the rats out of the old book closets (the casual passerby would probably comment that the rats were chasing me….one shriek and sprint from an enclosed room and a dog-sized rodent and no-body ever lets you forget it…), we also had the carpenter outfit a small-lockable room with shelves for the books to be stored upon. After starting this project the 3 strong boys and 1 incredibly brave girl, who decided that their spring break would be best spent with their favorite teacher sorting through 3 years of disorganization and rat droppings, together we all realized that Makong’onda actually had a LOT of books. Our science subjects are the best stocked, followed closely by the number of French, Physical Education, and Home Economics (I’m not kidding, we really found these) books, and finally Finnish literature books. After we sorted through all of the books we tackled the magazines and the past exams. Each year the Form 2 and Form 4 students are required to take 2 national examinations. Our school started taking these in the year 2006, and thus we had stacks and stacks of tests that would require sorting and filing into our newly cleaned (but incredibly abused) filing cabinet. Our idea (which two of the students came up with on their own) was that all student resources, including the tests, should be kept in the library for easy access. When the filing was complete, each book was numbered and put into its correct position on the shelves, and then we did an inventory “wish list”.
We swept the library, took our final pictures, and locked the door. Andrew, one of the student helpers, followed me to our lunch and said “Mwalimu, we may not have any teachers, but we really do have the things we need to learn, for those who really work for it”.
“Andrew, you’ve always had the books, and I’m insulted that you said you don’t have any teachers”.
“You don’t count as teacher. We like you.”
“---”
Our book inventory revealed that there are no history, civics, geography, or English/African literature books in the library. This is one of the problems we are looking to remedy…stay tuned!

Bustani Bonanza...continued! September 29th

2009-10-29T22:50:00.000-07:00

After a month of carefully watering the garden everyday, (and by carefully watering I mean scrounging to find said water, lugging it in buckets to the garden, and then carefully dumping it onto our sun baked soil with metal minnow bowls) we finally were able to start to take the fruits of our labors…or rather, vegetables of our labor. Every day since the month we planted we have been eating non-stop spinach, sweet potato leaves, and ochre. It took a lot of patience, chicken shooing, goat rock-throwing and water fetching, but everyday we have a variety of fresh foods to choose from, and that is truly wonderful. These pictures are of my house helper Joyce and Mustafa, both with things that have grown in our garden. The truly remarkable thing about our garden, is the street cred that I now have among my peers here in Makong’onda. Every day as mamas and babas are passing by on the path to go to their respective fields, they all stop and glance into my garden, “Mama Mirinda, your garden is so beautiful” or “Mama Mirinda, when are you going to give me some spinach?” or (the most popular) “Mama Mirinda, your garden is beautiful but you need to wear your khanga properly…your kneecaps are showing!”. A large number of Mamas expressed an interest in making their own garden, and so we are in the works of planning a garden-making/nutrition seminar for the Mamas of Makong’onda. Stay tuned for updates…on the seminar, and the state of my tomatoes…(THEY JUST STARTED FLOWERS!!!).

Bustani Bonanza August 2009

2009-09-01T04:39:00.001-07:00

“Mwalimu, come back outside and help us”
“No, apparently I can’t do ANYTHING right, just DO IT YOURSELF.”
“You didn’t understand us”.
“I understand that I can’t do it right, so I might as well just sit here”.
“When we said ‘you couldn’t do anything right’ we meant it in a respectful way!”
“Ba!”

After a successful Pima day and a whirl-wind form four mock examinations week, we have finally had some time to do what we excel at doing in Makong’onda, hanging around and relaxing. In my American home and upbringing, it has always been suggested that idle hands are the devils playground. In my Tanzanian home with my new “son” and “children”, I have started to implement the same “lets always have something to do so that we never have to say the word bored” policy. Thus began, bustani bonanza.
Bustani is the Swahili word for garden, and ngumu is the Swahili word for difficult. To make anything grow in Makong’onda is NGUMU. This is mostly due to the lack of rainfall and then lack of working pump. What better way to keep us busy than to start an impossible garden that will take far more upkeep than what we will be able to grow?
The above dialogue occurred after my first hissy fit, directed at two students who wouldn’t let me dig, then made fun of the way I was watering the plants, then said I couldn’t spread manure correctly (“just go fetch water, you can do that right?”), and finally, told me I was pulling water from the well too slowly. Working with students who have much more experience working their own soil is a challenge, but I came prepared. I had read a book, sharing all the things we would ever need to know to make our soil healthy and plant our companion crops. One kid used my book as a coaster for his tea. Bummer.
After a long period of learning, listening, and 2 more hissy fits, we had a garden. We planted tomatoes, cabbage, spinach, chinease cabbage, and carrots, as well as 3 papaya trees. We haven’t yet decided if we are going to be able to eat all of the things that we planted (indeed we don’t actually know if what we planted is going to grow) but we have decided that we are going to go use this garden as a demo, and encourage the mamas of the village to grow their own as well, using the water they have available after bathing, doing the dishes, or drinking chai.
There were only 4 people who insisted I was doing a bang-up job in the garden. I decided to include these cheerleaders for your viewing pleasure. More pictures of the future garden and (hopefully) the fruits of our labor later…

NANE NANE PICTURES

2009-08-31T07:27:00.001-07:00

Top: Laura Baker and Mirinda Gormley at the events head table

Under top: A lion preparing to pounce in an HIV/AIDS skit

Middle: Line at the door to test for AIDS

Middle bottom: SMALL CHILD ENDANGERMENT portion of the race (no children were hurt during the race...just giggle attacks)

Bottom: Sack race at the beginning of the race

NANE NANE AIDS/HIV DAY...AKA MAKONG'ONDA IDOL

2009-08-31T06:58:00.000-07:00

The eighth of August is a special time in Tanzania. It’s a time where everyone in the community puts up their spade and farming implements and goes to the local NANE NANE (eight, eight) celebration, which in some places, consists of just looking at more farm stuff (like a county fair). In Makong’onda, we decided to celebrate NANE NANE by testing people for HIV/AIDS and having a HUGE party. The date became an excellent idea due to the amount of people who would be able to attend, and the amount of people who would give up going to the farm for the day.
As are all huge events in the village, this party was no different. By the time Thursday rolled around, I was a ball of nerves. We decided that there were 2 huge things that could go wrong:
1. The person playing the music wouldn’t show up
2. The people testing the villagers for AIDS wouldn’t show up
Musty called home on the Thursday before the event to pay the DJ for the music and called immediately after reaching Newala. I asked him what the problem was and he quickly explained that the man who was going to play the music received more money from a wedding, so he had just decided to cancel on us. As I received this news, I was handing a phone to one of my older students, my draw dropped, and I was speechless. The student, stared at me, and asked if there was anything at all he could do. I told him to get Habiba, one of my Form 3 students (and an almost constant fixture in my home) and shut the door in his face. Habiba ran into the house, and asked what was wrong. I told her what had happened, and I couldn’t help but cry when I got to the part where the guy left just because he got more money elsewhere. Habiba tsked and grabbed the edge of my T-shirt, yanking it above my skirt and drying my eyes with it. She insisted that I must stop crying, and that it would be fine. 2 hours after my fit, Musty got home, and immediately he told me that he had found another DJ. Crisis 1, averted.
The rest of the crisis were slightly more manageable. 5 students showed up to my house the night before to prepare the food and the gifts for the next day, and several boys showed up to provide firewood and game materials. By the end of the night, two peace corps volunteers had arrived to help me carry out the project (the minute they arrived, small children in the village followed them around, yelling “there are TWO Mirindas now!”). By the time the 10 of us (in my house with only 4 mattresses) laid on the floor to sleep it was after midnight. Bright and early at 5 in the morning, Habiba and Happy started to giggle, “Mirinda, are you seriously still asleep? We’re bored”. Groaning after 5 hours of sleep, I led the troops out of the bedroom and we began cooking again.
The overall day was a HUGE success. We had a relay race, we had planned to test only 150 people, but we tested over 300, and RAN OUT OF TESTS! The relay race that we planned was a huge success. The kids were told to jump in a grain sack to the end of the football field, there they had to run past the school and score a netball goal. After the netball goal they had to race around the library building to put a condom correctly on a model (Laura, who was in charge of this station, laments that many of my kids DO NOT know how to do this, I blame it on the fact they may have been in a hurry…). After they were passed they had to grab a small child and run with it around the school to Andrew, who asked everyone an AIDS question. The relay was a huge success, with tons of people crowding around each station to watch the action. By the end we realized it was a miracle that no small children were hurt as they were carried like grain sacks during the race.
Makong’onda Idol was a lot of fun, attracting many student singing groups and even singers and dancers from Mtwara. The stage was around 3 feet square as people kept pushing in to see the festivities, and the main table was constantly crowded with people. The dancing and singing was a lot of fun, and the winners each took home a coveted T-shirt.
We closed the day with a soccer game, which ended in a sudden death shootout (with Makong’onda winning), and everyone went home happy. 305 people went home knowing the status of their heath, and a little over 1000 people went home having learned life skills revolving around their health and how to prevent AIDS, (knowing the risk behaviors, how to use a condom, being faithful to one partner). The project was an overall success, and the next day the first person at my door (at 6 in the morning) was proof of this:
“Mwalimu Mirinda, when can I come to test again?”

Mama Witness August 1st 2009

2009-08-21T00:51:00.000-07:00

On my way home from soccer game, or rather, during halftime my way home to add water to the beans I was cooking, I cut into the dispensary on the path that passes closest to my house. There, Baba Andrew, the town drunkard, and father to one of the smartest students at my school (Andrew), bounced into me, and grinned saying “it is time”. Humoring him, I smiled back and asked him what it was time for. He answered by nodding his head toward the dispensary and saying, “Miriam will soon be a mother”. Miriam, his 16 year old daughter who accidentally got pregnant by her boyfriend (who then dumped her), had been expected to give birth any day, so it was no surprise to me that her little squirt had finally decided to grace us with his/her presence.
Excited, I raced up to the stone steps of the dispensary where Miriam’s mother, suffering from a stiffness that barely allowed her to walk or turn her head, sat. I moved into her line of sight and asked how Miriam was doing. She smiled weakly and told me that she had been in labor since 7am, but all of the mamas were starting to gather, so she would soon give birth. I asked if it would be alright if I could sit with the Mamas and wait for Miriam to give birth, she smiled weakly and said that she would see me later. Torn on whether I was invited to sit or not, I raced back to the house, put water in (my now burnt) beans, and raced to the nurses house, asking her if I could sit with Miriam until she gave birth. Mama Simon (sitting on the stairs) said that I shouldn’t go, because I had not yet given birth, Mama Suzee said that I could go because nobody ever expected me to remember the “rules” anyway. When I asked them if they would go (both gave birth after all) they solemnly shook their heads, muttering that Miriam was a fornicator, and her child was sinful. I took that as the green light to definitely go.
After supper around 7pm, I grabbed my flashlight and headed to the dispensary. When I got there, three of my favorite Mama’s were there, waiting patiently with their children asleep on their laps. Mama Margaret scooted over in the dirt and made a space for me and we say quietly in the glow of the lantern, coming from the room where Miriam’s contractions were starting to come faster. Mama Omega enters the scene, and immediately expressed surprise that I was present. I replied that Miriam was my friend and I wanted to support her birth. She nodded and then apologized to me for not already having a child of my own. Mama Kihiki added on to this, stating that in America, it must be very boring with no children, and very lonely. Mama Omega added that in America, she supposed people could all go to nice dispensaries to give birth, instead of ours, which had no electricity, a dirt floor, and a (7th grade education) nurse with plastic bags on her hands and a hairnet (for sanitation purposes mind you) as an obstetrician. I explained in America many girls my age wait to have children until after they had a job. Mama Andrew immediately asked what kinds of things of things we farmed in America, and I patiently explained that many people in America worked in offices, schools, or hospitals, women were not only supposed to stay home and farm. I then added that in America many families now have a mother who goes out and works all day and a father who stays at home to tend the children. All of the mamas hooted with laughter, two called me a liar, and I’m pretty sure after they realized I was serious two of them crossed themselves. I’m sure we would continued this line of conversation, had a soft cry not sounded from the small lantern-lit room.
At this cry, all of the Mamas stood and went to the barred hole in the wall (I saw hole in the wall because window implies glass, and there is no glass in the village) and began to encourage Miriam. Push, Push, Push! Their cries were just above a whisper, and though the wind was howling, I could still hear not a peep from Miriam. I started to go to the window when Mama Margaret pulled me back to the dirt. “Later, you’re not ready to see yet”, she explained, my presence was allowed, but my sight of the birth was still not allowed. Inside I could hear Mama Scalla (the nurse) yelling at Miriam, “Why are you tired?!” “We don’t get tired, we keep pushing! God didn’t make you to be tired! Push, Push NOW!” The mamas at the hole yelled more encouragement, and then all of a sudden everything was silent. There was a 2 second pause, and then a low shrill cry, a baby girl had entered the scene.
The Mamas starting thanking god, and Mama Scalla left the room to remove her hairnet. Seeing me, she was shocked, asking why I hadn’t come into the room to see the birth. When I explained that I had not yet given birth she psh-ed and pulled me to my feet and into the room. There, lying prone on the dirt floor was Miriam, completely naked. Somewhere in a mass of dirty khangas and towels was the squirming baby, and lying on the nice bed, was the placenta. Mama Scalla stepped around Miriam and held up the placenta. “Placenta!” she cried in English. I nodded and looked at Miriam. Mama Scalla thought I had misunderstood. “Look at the Placenta” she said, saying that she herself had delivered it, and cut the cord. I asked where the baby was, Mama Scalla rolled her eyes and nodded towards the table, when I returned my glance to her she was beaming and holding the placenta inches from my face. Assuring her that I had a great look at the placenta, I turned to Miriam, and asked Mama Scalla if she was alright. Mama Scalla assured me that she was fine, and then sidestepped around her again, escorting me back outside. In that dirty little room, on the filthy floor, lay a naked 16 year old who had just given birth, her child, was lying wrapped in two old khangas, on a table, next to a kerosene lantern, where the wind and sand was flying through the open door. It was surreal.
The next day I returned to see Miriam. She smiled at me, and showed me her little bundle laying in the middle of a rope bed. I poked the little hands, which at this stage were almost as white as my own. Miriam smiled, and I asked her what she named her. Witness. Mama Witness and her daughter have a long road to hoe, its not easy being a young uneducated mother in the village, even though that is our most popular demographic . Even as I sat there Miram’s eyes never strayed from the bundle on the bed, her protective posture didn’t loosen. There is no money in Mama Witness’ mud hut, there are no beds, save the rope bed stretched under the grass porch, but as was pointed out to me by all of the Mamas at the dispensary, and then blatantly obvious by observing Mama Witness, there is family, there is love, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters here.

The Things I will do for a Dollar...

2009-07-17T06:28:00.000-07:00

When I arrived back home from America, I had a grin on my face that spread ear to ear. I couldn’t wait to escape the airplane and all of the silly white tourists and get back to the bush to see my kids! Unlike the tourists, who were slightly scared by the imposing Tanzanian doctors standing next to the customs desk with white masks and plastic suits (like the silly plague was trying to enter instead of swine flu) handing out little surveys (do you have pig flu? Circle Yes or No) I breezed past them, not even having to fill out a survey or take a test (very perceptive of them to have a large mass of people and two doctors who are more impressed with their masks than the surveys they are holding) and swiped a taxi, whose driver was not happy that the white occupant spoke Kiswahili and was charging the normal fare.
When I arrived home at Makong’onda everyone was thrilled to see me, and I them. I showed everyone the pictures that I took as well as all of the fun things that I brought back with me (including taco powder and jump ropes). I also had with me 5 crisp American one dollar bills. This started a bit of a betting war with Mustafa, one of my favorite students, and Hussein, another student who stayed with me for a week after my arrival (he took care of my cat when I was gone, I felt sorry for him, Pepsi is a lot to put up with). One of my favorite American phrases is “I betcha a dollar you can’t do …”, after I said this to Mustafa one time his immediate reply was “like one of the dollars you have in your wallet right now?!” He then immediately placed a whole chili pepper in his mouth (the bet) and then tears streaming from his eyes and words I don’t think I want to know streaming out of his mouth, he accepted his prize on the way to the water barrel (which he nearly dunked his head into)
One of my chickens has become infatuated with the neighbors rooster, whom I hate, because he makes my rooster angry, causing a huge cockfight to go with my African sunset every night. Not wanting my courtyard to look like someone’s sleazy basement ring every night, I immediately decided to take action: I removed the ladder the cock was perching on each night, thinking he would move back to his home (and the chicken and chicklings he left behind I might add). The rooster took action of his own, he decided it would be much more efficient (and much farther out of that crazy white woman’s reach) to climb to the roof. I have a tin roof mind you, and a huge rooster with stupid claws struggling to keep his balance and then cawing each time he loses is LOUD. OBNOXIOUSLY LOUD. After three hours of this I finally screamed from my bed “BOYS! I’ll give you a dollar if you get that d*&^ chicken OFF THE ROOF!). At first I did not hear the enthusiasm I was hoping for, only snickers. One of them called out “Mwalimu, there is no chicken on the roof, only that rooster!”. More snickers. “GET THE ROOSTER OFF THE ROOF OR SLEEP OUTSIDE!”. Long pause. “If we sleep outside, we won’t be able to hear the roosters”. At this point I started getting out of bed, a process that causes a small squeak, by the time I had one foot on the floor I heard my backdoor flung open and the boys rushing into the back yard.
At first I thought it was going well, then I realized that I had made a grave mistake. See, the boys first started pleading nicely (in Kiswahili) with the rooster to get down so that they could have a dollar. When that stubborn rooster didn’t listen, they decided to start throwing everything they could find that was not breakable in the backyard (did I mention the roof was tin? Did I also indicate that I wanted the rooster down so that I could get to sleep). Eventually I gave up, got out of bed and went outside, being showered by dirt from the mudclot that just cleared the roof but just missed the rooster. Sitting out of missile range, I watched as the rooster dodged, dipped, dove, ducked and dodged for an HOUR before a direct hit was made. At this point I think the poor thing was just giving up. It took three more direct hits for him to abandon his beloved chicken and move to a more secure location. The three of us went back into the house and fell asleep having conquered the enemy.
You know that saying you can win the battle and lose the war? The rooster did. When I stepped out onto the front porch an unfamiliar “squish” accompanied my normal footsteps. Ah yes, he had found a new perch, and pooped ALL OVER the front porch (leaving no gray spots, except his own).
I have a feeling we will be having rooster for supper real soon…

Womens Conference -- June 2009

2009-07-17T06:21:00.000-07:00

I realize this story is coming to some of you late in the game, after all, a lot of you heard about this from me while I was spending time at home, but now you get to hear even more specifics of the great things we did, and we all know you want that!
The women’s conference was amazing! Most of the young ladies that we took were between the ages of 14 and 21, they were all still in Secondary School (high school), and many of them (from my village at least, we’re all in the bush!) had never been to the big “city” before, it was excited just to take the death defying ride on the open bed truck to get there (and I’m not kidding about death defying, they are training new drivers, and on one particular ride I heard the driver, while on the phone going a ridiculous pace on a dirt road, complaining about how there was no brake fluid in the car, luckily there is still no working speedometer, so at least I can pretend that we are cruising at a normal pace). The ladies all arrived and were immediately introduced to the wonderful world of women’s empowerment, which of course included some rules (peace and love, behave, and Luke (the only male volunteer) is a girl) and then a lot of practice with assertiveness and HIV/AIDS training.
My favorite parts of the conference were the amount of times we spent teaching the girls about condom use, and trying to break any myths surrounding them. This included me pouring tea into a condom and sealing it, to prove that there were no “holes”, me dressing the elbow of another volunteer to show that even those well in endowed be able to fit, and me bringing 12,000 condoms for the girls to practice with. This may be excessive, but in my defense, Laura, another volunteer, told me to go to the hospital and pick up two boxes of condoms for use. She didn’t tell me (because she didn’t know) that there were two different sizes of boxes, 100 and 6000. I picked up the 12,000 just to be on the safe side. Though this was the cause of looks of shock (or utter non-surprise as Lindsey reminded Laura that I needed “special directions”) and giggles throughout the conference. To make up for it, I had the best penis models to be used by the girls, carved by my expert carver, who did a wonderful job making them according to my instructions (those instructions were “make them like yours”).
Aside from condom use, the girls learned a great deal about assertiveness, which they got to experience first hand when one of the cooks tried to steal from us and then demanded money. Though my girls were used to “Mwalimu’s kali (my temper) the cook was not, and the rest of the girls got to see first hand what that assertiveness looks like, complete with creative English (the cook claimed to be an English teacher, I was merely testing her vocabulary) words.
The games, talent show, and random sighs of “when are we coming back to learn again” made all 4 of us volunteers feel that the training was a great success. The post test at the end of the seminar was filled with complete and much more in detail answers that the pre test, and all of the girls left with huge grins on their faces. I wish derailing the AIDS grip in Africa was as easy as taking 33 girls and teaching them how to protect themselves through learning and games, but we still have a long road to hoe, especially with our next plan: a boys conference (the one big difference being the allocation of aspirin in the budget)!
More conferences are sure to be planned, and I can only hope that they will be as wonderful as this one!

Back to Africa!

2009-07-05T13:24:00.000-07:00

Well folks, I've been home for 3 wonderful weeks in the great US, and yet I haven't had time to update my blog with all of the fun that I have been having in June and July. Luckily, I have this great video that "I" created in the US (aka my brother made it with my minimal input, I did take some of the pictures though) about the work that my fellow Masasi district volunteers and I participate in. The video is funny, and it shows a lot about what we do, you can find the link here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6iKLpqRcXI&feature=channel_page

During my trip home I was amazed and truely touched by the amount of people who were willing to donate money to my soon to be awesome library in Africa (472 kids, 2 teachers, NO BOOKS -- we hope to change this by the 2010 school year!). I was also so thankful for all of you who sat and bought me dinner and listened to my (at times) gross stories. Seeing all of you and knowing that you support me means the world, THANK YOU!

For those of you who talked to me about participating with our library project, here is a recap of the information:

In Ames, I spoke with Pastor Barb about making a small envelope at the counter of the Collegiate Presbyterian Church to place donations. In Tiffin, a small envelope was placed with Pastor Bev at the Tiffin Methodist Church. If you are reading this blog and you are confused because you don't know what I'm talking about, but you would like more information about how to help with a library project, please contact my father Dennis at dgormley@netins.net, he will be handling any donations or giving out any information related to how you can help!

When I return to Tanzania I plan to get caught up on my blog (scouts honor), telling you about our Women's Empowerment conference, the tour day that my school participated in, and my small (but painful) run with Malaria at the end of May. I enjoyed seeing all of you while I was home, and I hope to see you or hear from you (remember, I can read your e-mails, its just hard for me to respond to them). For those of you who supported my library project, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart, the library that we plan to fill with books will be invaluable to my village for years to come, and it will be instrumental in giving our kids a fair shot at getting the education their parents struggle to pay for them to have.

Lots of Love from TZ!

The whirlwind of May and April

2009-05-09T04:11:00.000-07:00

A whole month since a new blog! Sorry fans, I have been ridiculously busy…absolutely without a doubt two of the craziest months of my service to date! As you all know, I have been working very hard with my peer educators, a project that has literally required all of my time and energy since we have gone to 7 schools throughout the ward, and some of them can be up to 8 miles away. All of these trips were a rousing success, usually we were able to see the look of utter understanding in all of the kids faces, and if not, we were at least able to make them all collapse into convulsions of giggles when they watched me shake my booty in one of our songs (My name, Mama Ulia, which literally means Mama Europe, is now sang to me every time we pass through one of the villages we visit).
Three weeks ago, we celebrated my birthday, a celebration like no other. Instead of going out with American friends in the near-by town of Masasi, I instead decided to hold a small party for the peer educators, which they were of course all for, since they were “working very, very hard”. We went into town and came back with enough supplies to hold a ridiculous fiesta, including cassette tapes of rappers, whose music is not understood, but blaring it full blast through whatever media available seems to aid comprehension, and thus we (or more of less I) bared the awful noise until the batteries in the tape player ran out, 7 HOURS AFTER THEY STARTED. The up side, I now know every Akon and Psquared song by heart, so we no longer have to play them, because I can sing requests! This typical Tanzanian party was made all the more typical by the boys doing all of the dancing and the girls and I doing all of the cooking…actually the girls did all of the cooking, they told me I didn’t know how, so I was demoted to “supervisor”. The boys did make an appearance in the kitchen every now and then, to tell us that they were hungry, or to take our knives in order to fix a broken cassette tape. Since it was my house, and my house is equal opportunity, I gave the girls permission to throw things at the boys for every outburst of “I’m hungry, Hurry up!”, (whats really funny, is that one of my girls threw something at one of my boys the other day while they were in class and he told her she didn’t know…HA.)

Sorry to keep this blog so short, as I sit here in the barely air-conditioned hull of the Internet Mission, I’m trying to e-mail my superiors to close my grant, send my America Itenerary to all of my friends, and look up why Jennifer Aniston and Jon Ma yer split…even in my leisure internet time I’m busy! I will be home from June 16th to July 3rd, and I will be using my regular phone number, if you’re up for looking at pictures and hearing even more great stories, give me a call!

Stay tuned, I’ll soon send more for my Dad to post!

Mirinda

Crocodile Hunting on the Ravuma river

2009-03-14T18:12:00.000-07:00

The boy to the right of me is my "Son" Mustafa.

Ok, this is the last picture, its me, Mozambique in the back ground, and the Ravuma river. We found no crocodiles, which is the reason we were here "croc hunting'. None the less, we had a great (though life threatening) boat ride in a hollowed out log. I even told Musty to swim so as to bring them closer....didn't work, which is good, because I don't want to clean the cats litter box myself.

Net Ball Girls

2009-03-12T18:00:00.000-07:00

One Long Week

2009-03-07T06:35:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter

Returning from Dodoma and getting back on schedule with the school / life in the village was not easy. After the first week back though, I got into the swing of things, starting a netball team with the girls, and beginning my drama program with the peer educators. I had one crazy week…

Monday I taught at school all day, and gave a test to my form 4 students. Half of them failed, which was not encouraging, but a fourth of them came into the office to redo their work, which was very encouraging. I was also happy when half of them checked books out from my office and returned them on time, not only retuning them, but bringing me a list of the words they wanted to learn.

Monday night as I lay reading in bed, I all of a sudden heard a gunshot. Sure that my imagination was playing tricks on me, I continued reading, only to hear 2 more gunshots, this time closer to the house. I turned off the flashlight I was using and started to get out of bed to see what was going on (Sounds like a GREAT idea, eh?) and immediately fell back down on the mattress when two gunshots went off right outside my window. Now nervous and heart rate increasing, I laid flat on the bed with no light, hoping that my student had locked the door before he stepped out. An hour passed, and I heard my door slam, and then heard my student whistling. I jumped out of bed to ask him what was going on, and as I stumbled into the dinning room he had locked all of the doors and was pulling the thin sheets we pass off as curtains over the windows.

He explained that a group of people from Namyomo the village next door, had beaten their village representative 2 days ago, and today the police had shown up to arrest them. Running away, the police had followed them into Makong’onda but had not found them (it was dark, and there are no lights here) so they decided to shoot their guns through the village, probably to scare the people from their hiding places, but most likely because they were irritated they came all the way to the village and didn’t get to beat anyone.

Tuesday was the first day of netball, a game similar to basketball except that there is no basket, no dribbling, and no shoes, which given that we play on sand, I did not consider a problem. Wrong. Oh so wrong. By the end of playing, the soles of my feet were 2 different shades, black from soot and white from where blisters had formed. It was worth it though, to see these shy, quiet, girls from my classes who barely speak in class and never have the courage to make eye contact, fight, push, shout, and laugh, all in the name of winning a basket. Even the slightest mistake or fumble was met with loud scolding and shouts from girls on all teams, as well as the crowd that formed, which mostly included boys from the school – Their attendance undoubtedly made the girls rowdier - eager for the attention always taken from them by the boys at school.

Wednesday I went from my regular class to class at the local dispensary, a small type of hospital in my village. I went to teach about the ways to prevent HIV/AIDs and about how fluids can carry HIV/AIDS. This teaching began as a supplement to the health clinic held every Wednesday at our clinic. Women come, we test them, and we check their other general health. Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot of need for testing because HIV is so stigmatized here, many people are scared to test – but more scared to have their friends find out and ex-communicate them from their family and friends. We teach and test them, but mostly they remain quiet and ask no questions. Today was a good day, because we had a lot of questions.

Thursday, the people from Solar-Aid, a non-profit organization that puts solar on rural schools and hospitals, came to inspect our school. Because our head master was absent, we only had one teacher other than me scheduled to do the meetings. I did the entire 10 page application the day before (he came by to sign it), then answered the majority of questions the next day, showing my extremely skinny Canadian guest around the school. As she was leaving she looked me square in the eye and said she had a “surprise” for me. I followed her to her car where she pulled out a huge box and said, “This is for you from an old PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who left it in our care “I’m supposed to give it to the first PCV I see”. The box was heavy, and so I took it, waved goodbye and tried to hurry to the house before break…no such luck. Our bell rang and 2 of my favorite students sprinted from their classroom to where I was on the path, insisting that the “box the mzungu (foreigner) gave you is too heavy” and each taking a corner, walked with me to the house, shouting at others to go away when they approached.

We entered the house and they set the box on the table and then sheepishly stared down at their feet. Shazimu spoke up first, “So teacher, what is in the box that is making it more difficult to carry?” Rashidi then pointed out (ever the helpful one), “teacher, your scissors are on the table, let us open the box for you”. We opened the box together, only to find the holy grail of America inside.

On the top was a HUGE bag of candy bars, below that, trail mix, gummiworms, hot cocoa, granola + luna bars, TUNA, gum, Kool-Aid, popcorn, and mashed-potato mix. I had never seen anything so random and beautiful, and the boy’s eyes grew to the size of silver dollars.

Throwing each of them 2 Hershey bars, they bolted from the house, leaving me to bask in the taste of chocolate with my tea for the first time in weeks.

Fridays are relatively calm for me; I don’t teach. I mostly run re-po for library books that are overdue. On my way back to school from grabbing books, I ran into a small group of students dragging a student dry-heaving, screaming, and crying from the classrooms. Immediately I ran over to where they were and insisted that she go to my house to lie down. Once she was lying dawn and calm, I returned to the library.

Five minutes later a student ran into the library and told me I needed to come right now, and I raced back with her toward my home where there was now a good deal of shouting and screaming, but it didn’t sound like the student…I entered to find Madame Wambora, standing over the student, hands pressing her head firmly to the pillow, screaming out an exorcism in Kiswahili. I’m not sure if I believe in demons, but if I had been possessing my student, I would have done as Madame requested and returned to hell where I belonged. Standing at 4 ft 10 with a 2-month ld baby strapped to her back, Madame was furious, and she passionately performed this ritual until the student again stood still.

Later Friday, we took the student to Newala hospital, where the admitting nurse took one 10 minute look and said my student was schizophrenic, then placed here in a ward with extremely sick women, to wait for 2 days for a doctor who would never get around to seeing her. ( I arrived to pick up this student and argued with the nurse over the un-likelihood the student had Schitz. She merely smiled and told me that she showed all the symptoms, and said her diagnosis was the same as the doctors would be (would he have been dedicated enough to show up for work).

Tanzania health care – this is why I hope I never get sick.

Saturday my peer educators held their first program at our school, a warm-up for other primary schools we hope to visit. The program went very, very, well. The students had a lot of fun, and the teachers who came to offer their critique enjoyed it a lot, and were able to give some very constructive feedback. We will start going on tours of other schools next week.

Sunday I took a group of 6 boys to a volley ball camp held at Newala Day School, where volunteers Gigi and Jenrusha were teaching first about HIV/AIDS and then about volleyball. The camp was sponsored by a PEPFAR grant similar to the one I wrote. The boys had a great time, writing all of what they learned into their new notebooks and playing volleyball as well as the rest of the kids. Gigi has a theory that sports programs are the single greatest thing Tanzanians could invest in, giving their youth something else to do / look forward to than just sex. Every time I saw the kid’s faces light up when the ball made its way over the net, I realized she was right.

So this is a not-so-typical and then all together totally typical Tanzanian week. Without a few disasters thrown in, a few challenges, or one or two major problems, it just wouldn’t make an African week.

As always, you are all most welcome to visit our madness herein the village. Experiencing your own “typical” week is far better than reading about mine!

Dodoma & Bug-O-Mainia

2009-03-02T17:51:00.000-08:00

Entry Via Letter

Dodoma:

Sorry this set of blogs is so late. I’ve currently been tied up in a million different projects and seminars, including going to Dodoma, the capital, for a Peace Crops seminar/training. Dodoma is very small and not very interesting, considering it’s the nation’s capital. It’s surrounded by dessert on both sides, and though it contains the parliament building and the President’s home, it wasn’t that much bigger or that much more interesting than Dar es Salaam, which is huge in comparison.

Among Dodoma’s assets are stores that sell M&M’s and Snickers bars, and 2 soft-serve ice cream shops. Needless to say, those of us who attended the seminar probably gained a bit of weight. (After eating only rice and beans for 3 months, don’t judge!) The schedule for the day was never complete without a trip to the ole ice cream shops.

We went though many workshops on AIDs/HIV trainings, and administrative sessions. One of the more fun sessions was a lesson on how to make Peanut Butter, and I’m giving serious thought to purchasing a peanut/meat grinder… we’ll see.

Returning from Dodoma proved to be just as busy, if not more busy that usual. Now that my grant has passed, I’m able to start my peer educators on their tour of the ward, which includes solidifying a program for HIV/AIDs prevention and setting up a time table among all of the schools for when we will arrive. I’ve also been preparing and teaching 4 lesson plans for the 4 classes that I teach at the school. I have been trying to finish setting up our library, which consisted of moving all of the books (and there aren’t many) from the rat infested storage room to my office, where kids can come and check them out, just like a library. (The teacher at my school was against this idea for two reasons: A – It took effort (mine not his) to get all of the books in one place, B: “The students steal the books,” thus it’s better to leave them in storage closets where the rats can chew the covers off and nobody can use them – and who needs to read the book when there are so many (2) teachers at the school to teach every subject?) Needless to say, same old struggles keep coming up, and a few new ones as well, it’s been busy.

Bug-o-Mania:

When I left for Dodoma, I was aware that my suitcase had some type of gross bug living in it – every time I dug to the bottom I could find 20-30 good sized ants on every piece of my clothing. It wasn’t until I began finding the bugs everywhere – a swarm hiding in the bookcase, 50 crawling down my wall in an orderly fashion at 9 at night, thousands in the unused suitcase under the bed – that I splurged and bought a can of bug spray. My student and I went though every room in the house, looking for places where they may hide and spraying – then removing their little corpses and eggs. Normal infestations of bugs aren’t so bad, but these bugs congregate in the dozens and always set their eggs and nests where they gather.

After a successful day at school and a large supper, my student retired to the room where he studies at night and I went to bed. Around midnight I woke up with a single bug on my forehead, and annoyed, I batted him off. Before I could get back to sleep, I had a strange itching all over my head – like my pillow was moving. Thinking that my hair was the problem (I had left it down because I had just washed it) I reached back with a scrunchie to tie it back with my hair tie, and instantly recoiled when I hit 7-8 of the bugs that had decided to swarm in my hair that evening. Snapping on my flashlight I saw my pillow covered with ants, and when I sat up, ants began falling from my hair to my shoulders. Screaming, I untangled myself from the mosquito net (which had proved to be useless) and turned my head upside down, trying to shake them off. My student burst into the room (having heard the screams) and having taken a look at the situation ran for the bug spray. This then turned into a battle against the bugs and the student.
“Mwalimu, close your eyes”
“Don’t spray that stuff in my hair”
“It’ll kill the bugs”
“It’ll kill my hair too! Do not spray it”
“Why you so stubborn”
“You want to pick dead bugs outta my hair?”
It went on like that until all of the bugs (and their eggs) had fallen from my hair to the floor, and were then sprayed. Needless to say, I did not sleep well that night!

The next morning I realized as I was getting dressed that the majority of the bugs had relocated their base to my clean clothes on my desk. Annoyed and without clean clothes to wear to school, I sprayed the nest, killing nearly a hundred and allowing the gassed corpses to remain strewn about the room. When I returned from school at tea time to plug in phones, I walked over to the book case where my solar battery and outlets were and watched a solidarity ant crawl out. Cursing under my breath I picked up the power strip and gave it a good hard shake and millions of ants began spilling out of the outlets, which now weren’t working at all. After spraying these ants and taking the time to clean them up, I walked the two phones to the teacher with a solar charge next door. His laugh and look of surprise was too much for me, and I began to cry. Immediately (crying is a big deal in Tanzania, most people never cry) both teachers and a random guest of theirs followed me home to see the problem. Though I had cleaned up the bugs from the outlet, I was able to show them the ones all over the bedroom, and their eggs, and immediately both teachers said I had a “big problem”, as contrary to my belief, these bugs were not in everyone’s home as a result of the rainy season.

Amos immediately called over 3 students, brought a ladder, and told me to send them up into my flimsy roof, so that they could look for bugs, and possibly the source. They arrived without knowing what was going on, but once the heard that they would be climbing the roof the excitedly ripped off their shoes and grabbed the flashlights. One student, Rashidi, wore my headlamp, which made him look just like a miner as he entered the ceiling first.

The three of them were in the ceiling for about 5 minutes before Rashidi called, “Mwalimu, I don’t understand what we are…… Ay Jamahi!” (Kiswahili for Oh my god)

Grinning, I replied, did you find em? I was answered by the sound of shoes slamming into the ceiling tiles, and the words for “kill them” being shouted in panicked Kiswahili. Shazimu (another student) poked his head through the ceiling tiles.

“Mwalimu, they’re everywhere! Millions!” The three of them sprayed and swatted for 10 minutes, with the writing bodies of gassed ants falling from the ceiling tiles, and me and the 4th student (Bakari) dodging out of the way.

Finally, an exhausted but triumphant trio of students jumped down from the roof, all slightly dizzy from the spray fumes and all grinning ear to ear.

Rashidi flipped his school uniform shirt back on, popped the collar, and strutted to the door and said, “If you have any more problems, just let me know, I’ll spray again”.

Shazimu popped up behind him and began arguing that since he (Rashidi) got to spray this time, it would be his turn next time.

Bakari then stepped in to remind them both that he hadn’t even gotten to go in the ceiling – it should be his turn next time.

I halted the conversation and told all of the boys there would not be a next time, all the bugs were dead and I did not want them coming back.

The boys looked from one to another, and then all turned to me, giving me that “She’s white. She just doesn’t get it” look, and continued to argue about who got to kill which bugs the whole way back to school.

One Long Day

2009-01-13T10:36:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter

Days in Africa only seem long because they can begin so early. However this day was longer than most due to the sheer amount of craziness that manages to occur in one Mako-day, and all in my own home! School looming only days away, I decided to lock myself into my stone home, emerging only to chote (carry) water or greet returning Students. My student (Musty) who moved in with me to help guard my solar panels and do the daily chores (choting maji and sweeping the sand, as well as helping take phones in our now booming cell phone business) has discovered a taste for homemade chips and salsa, and thus on this near perfect morning we decided to get cooking. I was slicing up the salsa, making tiny perfect tomatoes and chilis, when we suddenly heard my name screamed with more panicked yells for Musty and for us to hurry. I dropped the chopping knife and raced past 2 waiting cell phone customers who had barely lifted their hands to knock at my door, rushing under the Korosho tree where my panicked neighbors were all but jumping up and down in excitement (this automatically indicated to me some thing was wrong, then usually plant themselves so firmly on the ground you would think they were dead). Subconsciously I knew this somehow involved my cat Pepsi, as she has become big enough to start playing with chickens, I all but expected my neighbor to be chasing her with a meat cleaver, as she had threatened to kill her the week before. My neighbors was speaking rapid-fire Swahili, throwing my cat’s name in liberally and pointing to a near by Korosho tree. Slightly annoyed, I turned around to witness not a guilty Pepsi with a bloody chicken dangling from her mouth, but a playful Pepsi lying under a low branch and taunting with her paws the biggest Green Mamba (second-deadliest) snake I have seen in Tanzania. Immediately I yelled for Pepsi, who flipped over and bounced towards me in a “wow, you came outside to play” perky way. Picking up the now purring lump of fur and handing her off to the house girl, I then yelled for Musty to bring my machete, while I looked for a stick. The snake, possibly sensing its impending thrashing, slithered up into the tall branches of the tree, just out of beating range, and by the time the machete arrived had disappeared altogether. Ticked at being aroused from our cooking without a proper killing under our belts, we stalked back to the kitchen, leaving our now growing cell-phone clientele with a mix of bewilderment and fear on their faces. Perhaps it was the look in my eyes or the machete held firmly in my hand that made these people scatter from my porch, either way we knew they’d be back.

Musty and I entered a smoke-filled kitchen and immediately found the cause of the stench, our chips oil had been forgotten on the fire. Lifting the pan with a dirty dish towel, I slowly made my way out of the kitchen with the boiling oil and was doing well, until I hit our kitchen step, causing the oil to bubble up on to the fingers of my left hand. Immediately I threw the whole pan down and backed away, screaming and jumping and teaching wide-eyed Mustafa a whole new “American” vocabulary. After several minutes of blowing, water pouring, and colorful metaphors, the twin sized second-degree burns stared at me from my left hand just as a smaller second degree burn I sustained 4 days before from a pot of boiling water peeked up at me from my left wrist.

After we had settled down to eat our now soggy chips and salsa, and between jumping up and down to the door to take phones from the villagers who had the courage to climb back on my porch, my student, collapsed in his chair from the excitement, looked up at me with nothing but the most endearing sincerity, and stated, “Mwalimu, perhaps it best if you give up cooking in Tanzania”.

Package Pandemonium

2008-12-30T08:58:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter

There must be a shout-out to all those who are fighting for my sanity and sugar withdrawal on the home front. First, thank-you-vivid reader of my blog, for procrastinating whatever activity you were productively performing (studying, putting pointless car parts on to a car feeding the cat) to stop and read my blog. By reading about my experience with African culture you are helping me teach and bring the culture home to you. This is one of Peace Corps goals, and your avid viewership helps me fulfill it.

Second, a monumental thanks to all you who send me letters. I love to read them. I love to write quirky responses. Giving me news and pictures from home helps me stay informed and keeps the home sickness at bay, thank-you!

Finally, to all you dedicated senders of packages, I must publically declare for both you and the contents of your gifts my undying love, and also the delight of the students who have also benefitted from the contents.

Lillian Swenka, Jeanna Bryant and crew sent me a surprise package that arrived just before Thanksgiving, containing pictures (!) and Halloween candy and treats. When my student and I opened this package we immediately ate the entire package of double stuffed Oreos and bag of candy corn, and thus learned an important lesson “when one eats America food, one becomes very sick”. I personally felt that it was WORTH IT. A large hit in the package were the pictures that I hung on my wall. My friends Jeanna and John became instant celebrities because of their dogs – full bread Great Danes Wyatt and Evey, who appear in many photos. Students now ask if these dogs are used in farming, if all dogs in America are that big, and if Jeanna can bring her dogs to visit. Students also got a taste of American culture through the Halloween-theme package when they saw pictures of Pumpkin carvings and flipped through the Halloween book – amazed and slightly appalled that American children dressed like “hooligans” and then had the audacity to ask people for candy. They were even more surprised when I told them most people gave them candy. The package was a delicious learning experience for us all, and I’m personally thankful for my crew at home for thinking about me! ☺

My beautiful niece Alexa and her extremely intelligent caregivers sent me package number 2 – which arrived on a “Christmas-like” day when I received 3 packages. Pictures of my brother’s family already hang throughout my house- my students and mama’s alike are always shocked that my “poor brother” only has one daughter (instead of 6) – yet the wizened nurses at the dispensary applaud the great example of “American family planning”. This package was anther learning experience as I was able to explain the tradition of stockings, ornaments, and snowmen – which Alexa had drawn on a Christmas card with a thought bubble stating – “I would rather be in Tanzania!” All of the candy was swiftly hidden by one student when another cam knocking on my door (“teacher you must hide the candy or we will have to share”) and even the Hy-Vee sacks that were used as packing materials became prized (you have to pay for plastic bags here!). One of the most thoughtful gifts was a ball of yarn and collar for my cat Pepsi. The minute I lifted if from the box she must have known it was hers, because she grabbed it in her mouth and leaped off the table-running to a corner of the room where she proceeded to rip it apart – and growl ominously at anyone with the nerve to walk within 3 feet of her and her gift. Thought the package made me miss not spending Charismas at my brother’s house with his family, the prized contents of the package will hang in my room until next X-mas!

My grandparents sent package number 4, the contents of which I feared had suffered damage since the box was badly battered. I soon was at ease though as when I opened the thread of tape holding it shut and saw my grandma’s card and Christmas picture smiling back at me. In a country where towels are expensive and extremely hard to find, she had sent me enough to last me the next two years. Though my students didn’t understand why I got so excited over towels when there was a stack of pipi marekani (American candy) left in the box – I knew Grandma was thoughtful as always when she packed the box. Probably the most prized part of the gift was the small oatmeal container – the vessel of choice when Grandma delivers cookies – a rare glance is usually sited right after the delivery of such cookies, before they disappear to a location only known by my father. Miraculously, each of the sugar – cookies had survived the trip to Tanzania and they were delicious! After putting away our gigs and sitting down to tea with these cookies, my student banged his glass down on the table and stated “God bless Bibi Manekani (American grandmother) for sending biscoti Marekani (cookies)”. He followed this up by asking when my Grandma was coming to Tanzania to visit. The cookies, candies, towels, and other treats were all hidden in a secure location, and my Grandparents picture hangs on my wall for all to see, all impressed and shocked when I tell them my Grandparents are both 85 and 86.

The final package was mostly celebrated by me – as it contained products essential to my personal hygiene. One student claimed that my parents “didn’t like me as much” as my brother’s family and grandparents because everything they sent was an indication that my parents “do not approve of your overall cleanliness”. Oh if they only knew. My parents also sent my sharpie collection, which even now is at work making time-tables and posters for the up-coming school year. My parents are constantly keeping up my sanity behind-the-scenes, posting my blogs and updating me on American politics once a week – I wouldn’t be the same here without their love and support.

To become a part of package pandemonium, the membership is simple – cram items into small box, take to post office – mail. For those already dedicated members you again have my deepest heartfelt thanks, your letters and packages give me that little taste of home that I miss every now and then when I’m defending my candy from rats or scratching mosquito bites. Thank-you!

No Pain No Gain

2008-12-29T21:03:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter

I decided it was time to weed and finish planting my garden around the time I got home form Dar. The beds had been previously double dug by volunteers among my students, but the needed sprucing and weeding now that the rain had arrived with a vengeance and turned all the dust bowl area around my home into a tropical paradise. My students all absent, I proudly wielded my hoe, weeded and sowed seeds into the garden alone, causing huge blood blisters to well up on my hands and kinks in my arms and back that not even Ibuprofen could cure. These blisters ended up being my celebratory flag however, as I went to the village later in the day to visit my mamas. They nodded politely when I told them I planted a garden, but the minute I showed them my hands they broke into grins and ran their fingers constantly over the angry bumps. One mama held my hand in hers then showed me the calluses on her own hands, saying that now I was truly a mama of Tanzania.

My master plan for the garden is to harvest the different vegetables and fruits, showing all of the mamas and taking them as gifts, before teaching a permaculture seminar later in the year where we can start to make small family gardens with these new seeds close to their homes. It may be difficult to convince a generation of mamas to plant new crops, but I’ hoping that my generation of mamas (between ages 16 – 24) will be convinced by the yummy fruits and vegetables and be willing to try the double-digging gardening process…time will tell.

My own garden now contains pumpkins, two types of cabbage water melon, papaya trees, green peppers, beans, chickpeas, cucumbers, carrots, onions, basil, chives, and corn. The garden isn’t huge; I sued a technique called companion planting to place plants that would grow together, together. The result is a garden that deters bugs, prevents erosion of soil (by using compost) and grows large, healthy vegetables. Of course after months of only rice and beans I’m increasingly becoming more exited about eating these veggies as well.

Busy as a Bee

2008-12-29T14:40:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter

I have been slack on my blog writing duties lately and for this I do apologize, my student and I visited and brought solar power from Dar, I waged and lost a battle against Tanzanian transportation, and the rainy season has increased the amount of insects grass, and snakes in my area – justifying even more my choice to sleep with a machete at night. Oh, I also planted a garden.

The Solar Adventure began on the week after we closed the school. My student, a teach, and I left by bust at the crack of dawn to go to Dar es Salaam, eager to arrive there before dark. The student had never been to Dar es Salaam and so for 9 hours I was woken up to the sound of – “Mwalimu, look at all those people”, Mwalimu is that the Indian Ocean”, “Mwalimu, why are you so tired – don’t you like riding the bus?” (When he woke me up to ask me why I was tired I very nearly strangled him). We arrived in Dar in one piece, and carried on our business as usual, I left to visit my family in Kilosa and my travel companions left to visit theirs in Dar es Salaam. The fun began when I returned and we left to embark on the solar adventure.

Finding solar panels in Dar is a difficult process, mostly due to the number of people selling fake panels, and also the number of vendors who increase the price by 4-500$ when they see a white person. After a 3 hours long walk through the hot streets of Dar, we finally settled on 3 panels, a battery, inverter, and controller that brought me in a little under my set budget, and then we attempted to lug our heavy cargo through e streets of Dar, not an easy feat. We then packed skill-fully each of the heavy and cumbersome items into one of the already bulging 4 bags my student and I were carrying for the 12 hour bus-ride back home.

As is usual for Tanzania, transportation was the most difficult factor in the solar equation. We laid the panels across our laps for the bumpy 12 hours, and then jumped off the bus in the pouring rain (contents of 1 bag falling into the mud) to unload our cargo at the home of another volunteer, whose village is 40-60 k from my own. We felt that getting off in Ngaga would be easier than waiting until Newala and balancing our parcels precariously for the 2 hour walk down the mountain – though I’ll never know what may have happened if we had gone through Newala, I don know that the Ngaga route was not “easier”.

Ngaga is a village on the junction of 2 roads, one heading to Newala, the other passing through smaller villages until Unveira, a large village 6 k away from my own. Loris – open ended trucks that carry people crammed like sardines on the back – pass through Ngaga through most of the day, on heading to Makong’onda around 3 pm. We waited for this lori at the bus stand starting at noon, but by 3:30 pm and after 2 hours of on and off rain we were becoming concerned. A lori passing to a different village stopped and informed us the Marko lori has passed on a different road in the village before Ngaga, they would not be passing through today, so would have to wait until tomorrow. At this point, after being in the same outfit for 3 days straight (including sleeping) covered in mud and still quite damp and sweaty from the present weather, I angrily began to explore other options to get home. The first car I consulted said they would take me – for 70$. The lori who brought the bad news offered to drop us in Makong’onda, altering their route by 10k, for 40$. Also – we would be riding in the back (uncovered) with the rain in a bed already packed to the gills with other people. My favorite offer was from the people with motorcycles, who said we could strap the solar panels and 4 bags to tone bike, and then the student and I could both ride another bike – again for 40$. I refused both rides in the best interest of the expensive solar panels and accessories-sitting in the front of the restaurant daring someone to come try to take them (when we returned to Mako we discovered my camera was gone), and we waited for anther alternative. At 6 pm, this option presented itself in the form of a phone call, stating another lori was coming around 6:30. We relocated from on stand to anther and waited in the pouring rain with two other women hopeful to get to Mako. We did this until 7:30, when it was too dark to see through the sheets of rain, and hauled the load back through mud to the volunteers home – resigned to the through the lori was not coming (it passed Ngaga 30 minutes later at 8pm).

Day 2 of waiting was begun with a bright spot, as we met a man driving some nurses from one village to anther, who told us eventually he would reach Makong’onda. He told us he would be happy to give us a free ride to Mako, and he would pick up his nurse and pass by in 20 minutes. Sipping our celebratory sodas at the stand, we watched as the land rover approached us then left us in the dust, the driver laughing and waging and the single nurse in the back seat taking a smirking glance as they passed. It was at this point I began doubting my ability to get through the day without causing someone physical harm.

The student and I hopped a ride (with all our baggage) to the near by village where the lori to Mako would turn to the alternative road. We waited there for 2 hours until the lori passed then we hoped aboard, only to find the lori headed back to Ngaga, having decided not to take the alterative road that day. The conductor charge us 6$ (2$ more than it should have been, but hey-it was lower then 40$) and we bounded, bumped, and slid our way back to Mako- where 3 students rant to greet me and carry our load. As we got off the lori the conductor made a near fatal error, telling me that I now had to pay an extra dollar because of the load we had carried. Unfortunate for him, I knew that we had already paid 2$ over the original price, but fortunately for him my student saw the look of death in my eyes-the same look I get right before I kill tarantulas in my home – and he pulled me by the arm away from the conductor who I had begun verbally assaulting . The condo stood shocked and people in the lori shrieked with laugher as the angry white girl yelled in fairly accurate Kiswahili that he was a stupid pig for trying to charge extra money for being a white person. – all while being herded away from the scene by students who were trying very hard not to laugh themselves.

As I sit here writing this story at 9 pm by the glowing light of a solar lamp and not the fickle dart of a lantern light, I find the story slightly more humorous. Slightly.

The Tanzanian Blog Song (hum to the tune of "Camp Grenada")

2008-12-29T13:36:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter

Dearest Daddy, Mama Mia,
Here I am in Tanzania
Lots of rain here, we’ve been getting
And they say we’ll have some fun when I stop sweating.

You remember, my cat Pepsi
She’s developed narcolepsy.
To my house she should provide protection
But she snores at rat's who pass by her direction.

Chorus:
Come seeeeee me! Oh dear mom and dad
Come seeeeee me! I’d be so glad to see you
our cuisine, leaves, ants, rice and of course gallons of plain red beans.

Come seeeeee me! I promise I will not make noise,
And introduce you to the boys,
Who want to marry me
to get their green card-ee!

As I sit here, and it’s storming
I am thinking of our dear Gormie
The weather here would, confuse him greatly,
Rain, heat, and sun all work together simultaneous-ly

Writing now, its, getting hotter,
My students tell me to go fetch water,
From the pump that rarely has power,
Lucky if twice a week were all able to shower

Students now saying “Teacher end your letter”
“Your silly rhymes aren’t getting any better”
“To the soccer field we go to play and jog”,
Daddy kindly read and add this to my blog!

World AIDs Days

2008-11-30T08:24:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter

As November wound to a close, I found myself looking forward to the world AIDS Day celebration in Newala, which took place the Saturday before the actual day. We had decided to take our Peer educators up to Newala for the event, to see what type of event we could hold for AIDs awareness here. Six of us traveled up the Newala mountain with teacher Amos in tow at 5:30 am Saturday morning. We arrived hot and covered in sweat, but excited at the prospect of seeing the day’s events. At the AIDs - day celebration, - Newalympics – there were many games for children to play, including basketball, soccer, track (which we were in charge of) netball, volleyball and finally, dodge ball. We started the day (before continuing on to track) by playing basketball with fellow PC volunteer Atif. After a game that was filled with double dribbles and cheap foul shots we left to continue on with track – though all day I had to listen to my Students ask me were “Jordan” (Atif being an African American Volunteer whose basketball ability they found identical to Michael Jordon’s) learned to play basketball like that, and when he was going to come teach them to play. We ran the children races around the track, and had more than 40 kids come to compete, and at the end of the day we had 2 MVPs to present gifts to at the ending ceremony – a huge event that attracted many children.

Overall, the even resulted in a little over 140 being tested for HIV AIDs, a very sucessful number for the event, and over the 120 estimated turn out! The drama and songs throughout the day were done before a huge audience, and many people enjoyed the variety of entertainment.After the event, all of the kids and I went to find food and then to find Jerusha’s house, where she allowed us to spend the night. The day was long and they all soon crashed into the beds, cushions, and whatever they could find in her home to sleep on – Jerusha, who was exhausted from the planning of the huge event, was so great to all of the kids despite being tired, and as we left two of them whispered to me that they wanted to come again!

The way home from the event may have been the most rewarding. All of the kids, including shy Jennifer, began plotting ideas for what they could do for World AIDs Day next year in our village, asking me how many volunteers could come help, if Michael Jordon (aka Atif) could come teach basketball, how many people we could test for AIDs, and all of the drama, singing we could do to spread the word about AIDs. The excitement they had to get started was enough to inspire me on the walk back down the hill, excited to get started and accomplish great things in Makong’onda. I have a slight feeling of pride in the fact that I helped, inspire these students to get started!

Monkey Business

2008-11-23T06:44:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter:

By Friday I had finished most of my exam grading and had started to work on other big looming projects, like closing my house in order to leave for Thanksgiving. I was just leaving to take a bucket bath when there was a knock at my door. I ran out the back way (after putting on more than just my towel) to find my friend Chili sitting there with 2 of my students – and a baby monkey. I immediately started gushing about how cute the monkey was and how much I’ve seen them in Tanzania, snapping pictures all the while as 50 small children (who had followed the monkey) ran about the yard. As I wrapped up my pictures I began to thank everyone, and then the first shocking statement was made – “Mwalimu Mirinda, for 3000 shlling we will sell you this monkey”. A look of shock crossed my face and I immediately replied – “you want me to buy this monkey”? Chili immediately shook his head and replied “you are right, 3000 is too much – for 2000 we will sell you the monkey”. I immediately launched into a series of explanations of why I couldn’t possibly allow a monkey to stay in my house.

“What would I feed him Chili?”

“Fruit” He then fed the monkey, whose cute little paws curled around the fruit.

“He will bite Pepsi”, I countered.

“No, he will be Pepsi’s friend and bring her fruit” He replied.

“What if he bites me, Chili” I pleaded, “I could get very sick.”

“Silly Mwalimu, he won’t bite you, he is a nice monkey” he said as he patted the monkey on the head.

Exasperated, I finally had to pull out the big guns.

“Chili, if Peace Corps found out a monkey lived here they would make me leave; we aren’t allowed to have monkeys.”

I felt bad when I saw Chili’s crestfallen expression, but he took that monkey and those 50 squealing children right off my porch and waved as he led the monkey parade down the street and in to the dusk.

This is how I did not come to own a 2 dollar baby monkey.

Life' Little Lessons

2008-11-21T17:15:00.001-08:00

Entry via Letter

Its funny when you reach that point in life where you finally realize you are looking through the other side of the mirror, when we had those huge pop-bottle glasses (in my case bright pink) that were cool-until we hit, high school and ransacked the house trying to hide the evidence of this fashion disaster, and none of us realize how truly annoying we are as college freshmen until we hit that senior year. My life lesson came to me in flashbacks throughout the balmy day as I graded the huge stack of papers that litter my table underneath rocks, saucers, and anything else that can serve as a paper weight in my windowless and thus wind-tunnelesque home.

I flashed back to high school when my lit teacher pleaded with us not to just make stuff up and write it down, as it was more work for her but less points for us. I also flashed to my Spanish teacher, who used to chide us for making up words that looked like they were Spanish and then use them on our tests. As I corrected over 240 essay tests this week, crossing out made up English words and writing lines through the same thing said 4 different ways, I can now totally sympathize with every teacher who ever had me as a student. I’m glad for one great difference though - a difference I believe would help the children of America in their education should they be privileged enough to partake, and that is the close relationship I have with all of my students.

Originally I thought students would not want to be anywhere near me after school, but here it is a sign of respect to always help the teachers, and as such I’m constantly surrounded by students, asking questions, borrowing books, carrying my water, or even taking naps on my porch with my cat. It’s not just the “mzungu” factor either; the other teachers are also constantly surrounded by students, always looking for ways to help around our homes, on the school grounds, or simply wanting to hang out. These relationships benefit everyone, I’ve learned more about Tanzanian culture as my students teach me to balance a water bucket on my head, build a nest for chicken eggs, and braid my hair so that it looks more African, and in return the students ask more questions in class, participate and pay attention (They all learned the hard way that once I learn their names I call on them all the time).

In Closing – to all teachers who ever had me in a class – who thought I wasn’t paying good enough attention, or who had to read an essay where I repeated the same thing over and over again – and then read everyone else’s tests of a similar nature: Thank-you. When I think of the fact that I’ve only been doing this for 3 months while some teachers carriers can exceed 30 years, it only deepens my respect for every teacher I’ve had the privilege to learn from.

Trail Blazing

2008-11-03T10:37:00.000-08:00

Entry via Letter

Today was the first meeting of the newest NGO (and first) in Makong’onda village. At first, I was incredibly skeptical of helping this group, when they admitted to me one of their only aims was to have me help sell cashew nuts n America. After the introduction of members and my firm “no” response, we moved right into what we could do to help the Malaria problem in the community. We discussed ways to raise money to buy mosquito nets, ways to educate the community, ways to help people to educate and help their children; we even discussed how the peer educators themselves could help! I left the meeting with 10 new dedicated counterparts, ready to help in the community and help with any thing I should need in Makong’onda, the prospect of starting a new group is extremely exciting, but will prove to be a lot of work I’m sure – I hope to have great news and exiting updates for my next round of entries!

Beginnings of Endings

2008-11-01T10:28:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

Today I finished writing my last annual exam which will be taken by my form 1 and 3 students in 1 week, after my form 2 students finish their annual national exams. These exams bring our first semester together to a close and send all of the students off on holiday to villages near and fair. It wasn’t until today, as students and I gossiped around the water pump-trying to help my “dumber by the day” cat our of a Koroshot tree while at the same time teaching me to balance a full bucket of water on my head – that I realized I would be truly bored over the next month without them.. Don’t get me wrong, my peer educators are all still coming to learn and prepare in December as we have progressed from learning about AIDs/HIV to STIs to learning to use condoms – of which several of my students felt necessary to imitate all aspects of what a model penis’s capable of before safely disposing of their condoms. Today’s session was most sucessful as each student had a dozen questions over the use of a condom and the specifics on where they could find them in the community. I can start to see the animated difference in some of them as they become excited at the prospect of teaching others, and increased confidence in my girls as we talk about subjects that are culturally taboo. I’m hoping to be able to teach them more, including a possible field trip to Newala to see where blood tests for AIDs are done in the hospital. Mungu Akipenda we will find the time and have the ability to continue making these sessions meaningful.

Life Learned in Africa

2008-10-25T09:57:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

To thoroughly enjoy the African lifestyle, I have observed many “rules” that make life a bit easier, and now for your information have recorded them here. Enjoy:

Rule #1
When washing your hands after using the toilet, check the water you use before applying to hands. If there are visible worms making little homes in the bucket, the purpose of using this water for washing may be defeated. Dump bucket and start again with new pump water and less visible worms.

Rule # 2
Don’t waste decent day light hours trying to sift each bug out of the flour before you use it. Odds are the bugs won’t harm you – they even add a bit of protein to your bread, just dump it in and bake away. If we spend too much time nit-picking at the little things that cannot harm us, eventually we will find that well hidden giant coach roach, and then lose our appetites once and for all. Moral – don’t sweat the small stuff, or in this case bugs. On the other hand, if you start picking out the bugs to eat and throwing out the flour, you may have been in Africa too long…..

Rule # 3
When killing giant man-eating bugs, make sure to scrape corpse from floor and deposit outside of living area immediately. Large smashed bugs that remain on floor will in time be consumed by huge masses of smaller carnivorous bugs and then the problem of disposal of one turns into the eradication of an army. If you wish to make an example of the one large smashed bug so as to deter family members of the species from taking up residence in your home, do so on the front porch. This not only sets an example for the bugs, but also for villagers that don’t know you well enough huge bug corpses on the front porch will permanently deter those who don’t know you well from asking for money…or bug repellant.

Rule # 4
Always check for bugs before tucking the mosquito net into the mattress. After entering the bed and tucking down the net, frisking the blanket for bugs is a poor choice-should you find a bug it will no doubt go into a state of panic and frantically scurry away on which ever surface it deems possible for escape – this includes your equally panicked swing palms and lower limbs. This netted up bed of emotion will no doubt end in the insects flight to your hair, where despite shrieks and gyrations which flail your hair to and fro, you ultimately lose the culprit and spend the rest of your night worrying about bug eggs being strategically laid in your ear. To avoid these ear nests, best to pat the matt before you tuck the net.

Rule # 5
It is never a good idea to dare an African high school student to do something, and best also to keep sarcasm at bay. My form 3 students and I argued over the status of a chameleon, whether it was a mammal or a reptile. I argued that because it had no hair it must be a mammal, to which they unanimously disagreed and stated that chameleons had hair and that I was a silly white teacher who didn’t know. Exasperated, I ended the (by now very loud) argument by stating that if they could bring me a chameleon I could prove that it had no hair. One hour after I returned home from school a stampede of running feet and shouting echoed up the pathway to my door, where upon 15 students, a 10 foot tree branch, and a very confused chameleon sat waiting for my inspection. I ultimately did prove that I was right by telling the students there was no hair because they all believed me, rather than come closer to examine the reptile (they made it perfectly clear that I would be the only one dumb enough to approach that end of the 10 foot pole) they simply took my word for it. After several pictures and my blessing, the students dispersed, and the poor chameleon clung for dear life to the 10 foot branch, as it was returned to the forest by way of straining to touch each screaming, sprinting female student with in the small radius of my front porch.

Next time I’m going to argue that a crocodile has hair.

It's that Look

2008-10-23T15:31:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

Being a volunteer can be difficult at times, especially when acting as a teacher in a small “bush” school. Do the kids really listen to me as I fill their head with Biology facts, can they be expected to when none of the other teachers teach in the classrooms, and only come around on discipline days? I’ve pandered many a day (especially on boring plant biology days) why I sit here writing these notes when only one or two of the students will truly understand me. Then I get “the look”. “The look” comes in many forms and in many places, not just in the school but around the village as well. “The look” is what keeps me going on days when I wonder what the hell I’m doing here in the middle of a heat wave without air conditioning. What is this look? I’m glad you asked. “The look” is the wave of understanding that comes over a students face when he grasps the concept of photosynthesis. “The look” is also the appreciation and ear to ear grin that my neighbor gives me every time I make Chocolate cake, even when I add too much oil and we change the name to chocolate soup. “The look” is the pride and beaming glow of a student who can point out a mistake in my calculations and then show the class, in English, where I went wrong. “The look” is the high-pitched shrieks of laughter and red faced convulsions of villagers when they meet me walking around the village with my kitten Peps wrapped in a Kanga and tied to my back like an African baby. “The looks” are the stern serious faces of villagers as the stare into my camera, and the coos of approval and piles of laughter when they look at the resulting picture. “The look” is the wide puppy-dog eyes of a neighborhood girl who hasn’t yet eaten all day, but manages to sneak me a handful of cashews carried in the folds of her small shirt.

“The Look” can come from any place at anytime, and though I never expect where I will find it, I’m always thankful that I am here in Tanzania to inspire it.

Animal Planet

2008-10-22T15:25:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

The fun thing about being a biology teacher in a rural school is the fact that everyone knows where you live. All of the students can cluster around your home and yell for you to wake up in the wee hours of the morning (until you chase them away with a stick) and still others can come bearing gifts, some with and some without biological significance. This week, 4 primary school students showed up at my door with a huge turtle. Originally I snapped a few shots thanked the boys and then closed the door to resume cooking my supper. Not even 2 minutes later the knock came again, a little more timid this time and there stood the boys, this time flanked with 2 mothers, both of whom were balancing buckets full of water on their heads while also bending to examine the turtle, who had not moved from my doorstep. One of the mothers smiled and patiently explained that the Turtle was a gift, and that I should take him inside before someone else takes him. I smiled again at the boys and the mother, saying there is nothing I would like more than to keep this Turtle in my home, and then, Turtle in tow, again shut my door. Now, Kobe (Kiswahili name for Turtle) wanders up and down the hallways of my home, watching out for both the cat and the chicken, which pounce on him with endless curiosity. When biology students fill my home to ask questions, they now have to dodge both the ankle-attaching cat and the exploring Turtle, all the while nervously keeping out of reach from both, and shaking their heads a the crazy mzungu who has welcomed forest creatures in to her home.

The Heat of the Moment

2008-10-14T15:22:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

My students and I decided to prepare garden the day after a huge rain-storm hit Makong’onda. While trapped in my house with 12 students waiting out the storm, they all noticed a peculiar smell, and asked if the beans I had cooked for supper had gone bad. With a knowing smile I ushered them out the door after the storm and then decided something must be done about that smell. That smell was my hair. In my own defense, it’s incredibly hard to keep long hair clean in a culture where all people shave their heads; there is little shampoo and no hot running water. It’s also so hot here, that the long dripping mane of hair after a bath is utterly unappealing, and with the result of constant ponytails and braids- which breed unhealthy hair. Thus, in the morning before starting the garden, armed with a 7” round in diameter mirror and a pair of sewing scissors, I chopped my own hair 7 inches shorter, so that it rests right below my chin. Most of the Tanzanians noticed right away, and were horrified I had let myself chop that miraculous amount of hair. Others told me that I now completly looked like an American boy, what with my preference for pants and all. Still others appreciated the style, and now many students come to the house begging me to let them braid my hair. Its funny how little I care about this fashion faux-paw, I’m actually more excited about the prospect of getting my uneven hair braided than the reality of having to own-up to a pixie cut the moment I step off of a plane in America. Is she becoming assimilated into another culture? You be the judge.

Rain, Rain

2008-10-12T15:32:00.000-07:00

Entry Via Letter

While sitting in my friend Gigi’s house in Newala, I noticed she had large wooden shutters covering her windows, she told me that I too would need shutters, or the rain would surely wash me and my things away. I shrugged it off and told her I need not purchase shutters, we would see when the rain came. It wasn’t until after I was sweeping a small lake out of my home that I realized she might be right.

The rain came down in torrents, but forgot to tell the wind to back down, and the result was my flooded home. The rain brought not only a new source of entertainment for the cat, but also students, who had been waiting at the water pump to take water and were now ironically fleeing from the torrents in the sky. My house filled to the brim with students, we waited out the storm and I distributed copies of Si Mchezo magazine, which they quietly read while eating the candy I piled on the table. Soon the reading turned into a discussion about the difference between Americans and Tanzanians, why condoms work, and where in the village I can get my nose pierced (a common practice here). As the students left, I felt very lucky that the rain came and trapped them here, as I felt it helped me make a good connection for the first times as an advisor they can trust. Sure enough the next day students poured through my door to get copies of Si Mchezo (this is an HIV-AIDS magazine for teens), and I met more students than ever. This response excited me to start the peer educators group, a group of students who will teach and advise students on health issues, and also work with primary schools in the surrounding area. Their applications are in and I am just now finishing their oral interviews, soon I will have a large group of 14 students who will work to teach and educate their peers about HIV-AIDS, I am very excited for them to come and hang out more often, as most important discussions occur in the low pressure environment of the home, as opposed to the always uncomfortable environment of the classroom.

Rats, Bats and Cats

2008-10-08T05:17:00.000-07:00

Entry Via Letter

I’ve decided today that I have officially crossed the line from an American to a Tanzanian in a sense that I am now able to fight the wildlife with a passion that would make the people of Fema incredibly distressed. I originally purchased Pepsi the cat because I felt he would scare the mice away. After the first two weeks of yowling and hissing at everything that moved, I felt the rats would have packed their bags and moved on. This was an incorrect assumption, as I found one morning when I arose sleepy eyed and hair tussled to wash my face in the bucket and found a small rat, swimming frantically to keep his head above the water. The logical thing to do would have been to put more water in the bucket to drown the obviously exhausted creature, but what I actually did was run out of my house (now fully awake) in boxers (in a country where women barely show their ankles!) yelling at everyone I saw to come see the huge beast I had trapped in the bucket. After a small crowd of men armed to the teeth arrived at the back door, they came upon the bucket, then between slapping each other on the backs and falling over laughing they managed to pull the bucket outside where Mama Kihiki dumped the bucket of water and greeted the swimming creature with a large rock, which finally killed it. Mama Kihiki proved to be the hero – probably because at this point all of the males were laughing so hard they were convulsing, she even had the sense to bring me a kanga to cover my incredibly white legs which – caused more of a ruckus than the rat. Since this story wouldn’t die around my village, I decided I would have to work drastically to make up for my “rep”, and I found the opportunity two days later while building my garden with my students. The building of the garden led to HUGE arguments, as they all insisted I would never be able to finish if I kept digging so deep, alas we continued, mostly because I bought chai for everyone, until Mama Kihiki suddenly jumped from her seat shouting “nyoka, nyoka” (snake), immediately impassioned, I rushed from the garden with the large hoe I had been furiously swinging at the dirt and decided I would be the one to kill the snake, this lust for reptile blood was not only fueled by my need to up my “street cred” but was also fanned with remembrance of the cobra that snuck into my chicken coop and stole my eggs (the first two my kuku has laid). After swinging the hoe at (but not killing) the snake the first three times I shouted for my students to bring me a machete so that I could cut off the head of the snake – one managed to pick himself off the ground (where he like all the others was quivering with laughter) and brought me my weapon of choice; which I used to finish off the snake. As I held the snake to take its picture (where like the snake, my head was cut off) I realized now that I was a toughened Tanzanian woman, ready to kill all the scorpions, lizards, and snakes (as well as rats) that dare to enter my domain.

Animal Life

2008-09-26T06:19:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

I thought it would be wise to dedicate an entire blog to the flaura and fana here in Tanzania. Starting from the ground up – we’ll start with the insects I hate and progress to the goats that won’t leave me alone. At first I hated the abundance of lizards here in Tanzania. They are everywhere, peeking out from the choo, hitching an un-anticipated ride on my purse, scaling the walls of my bafo waiting to pounce when my eyes are filled with soap, unbearable scaly little beasts. This line of thought discontined when I witnessed an apifiny late last night. As I walked outside in a bent “due to too many teas” position, I noticed 2 large brown shadows running across my floor. At first I thought the perpetrators were crawdads, and wondered how that pet crawdad escaped in the 6th grade managed to sneak its way to Tanzania. It was with a sudden realization (and the larger creature’s sudden attraction to my bare foot) that I jumped to my kitchen stool realizing this was one of the biggest toe-munching scorpions I had ever seen. The hop to the chair was not an act of sheer terror, but rather a reflex when another creature darts across my other bare foot (moral wear shoes when out at night) and battled the scorpion, successfully away in its jaws. This savior-creature was a lizard which (and I only exuberate a little) was the size of my calf…..HUGE!

Moving on to my new pet Pepsi, a scrawny kitten whom was aptly named by the neighbors as my own name is a Pepsi beverage here, the kitten whose only purpose here is to detract the loud rates who seem convinced my roof and food pantry are a nice place to live. Pepsi has gone from being an ungrateful hissing nuisance to an overbearing, over attached, constantly purring machine seeking constant attention and food, *sigh* men. Luckily he seems to have tricked the rats into leaving, a small miracle since the rats here could have most likely consumed him, being twice his size and all.

This past week has been full of new introductions and work, school and village life has been an active hubbub of excitement, My form 2 students took mock English exams (as well as exams in every other subject) which I had the opportunity to grade…actually it was a good opportunity as I had to first correct the answer key and then grand m exams. I find now that my Englist teaching of Biology may not be working because of the lack of English knowledge among my Students, and I’m resolve to start teaching in both English and Kiswahili for full comprehension of my Biology subject. For those who can comprehend the subject – my form 3 students – started an interesting lesson in the importance of the endocrine system, and the importance of taking notes in Mwalimu Mirinda’s class. After a note check, ¼ of the students re-wrote the notes, ¼ were allowed to have their free period (they listened) and ½ came to my house to collect leaves for the compost pile. I hate to discipline my Students, but find that I do enjoy my 3 new fences, compost pile, and sparkling office, I actually don’t know what I’ll do if they start to behave!

The village is now quite alert to my presence as I saunter here and there, greeting everyone and eating bucket loads of Peanuts and Cashews thrust in front of me. Three of the village bibi’s taught me how to crochet this week- which is hard to learn, but a bit more of a challenge if you don’t quite know the language, and the general belief seems to be yelling louder will enhance my learning process. However my hard labor has paid off, and I now strut my stuff, crocheting a hat that would fit comfortably on a thimble, and demonstrating my skill to everyone I greet, all of whom seem or pretend very well, to be impressed. The town meeting was yet another harrowing experience, and has solidified in me that I need never worry about running on Gormley-Trout time (at least 30 minutes later than normal time) ever again. A typical Tanzanian meeting starts 2 hours after it is supposed to, and then lasts up to 3 extra hours depending on subject matter. At this meeting I was called to greet the group and then the headmaster gave a report of my progress teaching, feeling that an embellishment of an event which occurred earlier in the week- me running from a chicken – was necessary for the village to comprehend as it related to my teaching in no way at all. I wasn’t afraid of said chicken, I merely stated it was angry which I can confirm; it angrily squawked and pecked at my ankles as I trotted the opposite direction at a brisk pace. Moral – don’t attempt to kick chickens and if kicking necessary, do so in privacy of ones own home.

These are the weekly antics in Makong’onda. My health and peer educating groups will begin next week, so I hope to update you on their progress in the coming blogs! I hope you are all having a safe and scary October, lots of Love from Tanzania.

Mirinda

Zawadi Land

2008-09-10T18:20:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

If you walk around America in a new neighborhood, it would be unusual for your new neighbors to ask you to sit, have some water and 4 eggs. They are gifts for visiting. I believe it would be more unusual to have an angry clawing chicken shoved inches from your eyes but then this is Tanzania, and angry eye-socket clinging unhappy chicken gifts are how we roll.

The generosity of my village is wonderful and I continuously appreciate their helping me adjust to life here – this is how I’ve come to appreciate Kuku, my new Chicken friend who is locked in my shower because he keeps trying to kill me (you laugh – but that beak is sharp). I guess his dislike for me makes sense – If I was living with someone whom I suspected wanted to eat me, I to would dislike that person. I believe Kuku will remain in the shower until my neighbor helps him in to a stewpot, where upon he will briefly live on my kitchen table before progressing in to my belly.

This week there is no school, and as a result I have not had to teach, so I have been helping my neighbors collect Cashew nuts and traveled village to village to greet all those who want to meet me. Between village visits, I have also provided my village with “mzuhgu theatre” where upon in the dark they all gather around my home to hear me scream and then chase with a machete the angry pregnant rate that will not leave my home. Luckily despite their amusement, two families offered me a kitten, so soon I will be without angry pregnant rats and hopefully man-eating spiders. I am not one to be afraid of spiders, but this particular spider was so large and so evil-translucent white that I decided it was a sign from God urging me not to use the bathroom – and thus I made due with a bucket instead.

Another sign from God came in the form of an evil black and gold jersey hanging in the near-by market village of Newala. Yes friends, it was a Hawkeyes football Jersey which appeared 1 week before the Iowa-Iowa State game. I felt necessary to purchase this Jersey for the sole purpose of taking it to the local Witch Doctor and having it cursed, and hope that my magic works – for by the time you read this blog, the game will be long over – hopefully my African-Hawkeye thwarting techniques will be sucessful.

My school and wonderful village of Makong’onda remain a wonderful place to live and prosper. I’m hoping to learn more about Grant-writing so that I can start projects and get underway – my villagers are itching to get started.

Lots of hugs and well wishes from Tanzania! I hope to receive letters and news soon!

The First Days at Makong'onda

2008-09-05T18:28:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

I have finally moved in to my new village of Makong’onda, and am thrilled to finally be in a place that I can call home for the next two years. I don’t know which factor

of being here I like more: the fact I will be able to start using my skills in the community or the fact that I never have to travel with my (now) 6 bags of luggage ever again!

Upon first glance, Makong’onda appears to be a very small village, many of the homes are made from brick and clay with thatch roofs and sand covers the ground everywhere the eye can see. There is no electricity; thought a near-by home does have solar capability. This means that everything here is very expensive to charge-my cell phone alone costs over 400 Schilling to fully charge at a near-by duka. Like electricity, food is also scarce here – because we are now winding down the days to the rainy season. We have little water and no fruits or vegetables growing here – these items have to be purchased in Newala, the nearest town, which can only be reached by foot and is a two hour climb up a small mountain to reach. The village also has four outlying villages which are each in distance about 2 miles from Makong’onda. In each direction. All of these villages are practically unreachable by car, and the best (and only) way to leave is via car / bus from Newala. The land here is incredibly sandy with the exception of the cashew trees which grow everywhere – the fruit of the cashews, called Bebo, is commonly used here to make Pombe (think cashew moonshine) and I have been forbidden to try it due to my fondness for bowel regularity and my eye-sight.

The house that I am now residing in is beautiful by African standards and I am thrilled to be so lucky in having it! It has 3 bedrooms, a large front sitting room, and a large courtyard with an office, kitchen, and hen house. Peace Corps volunteers are forbidden to keep chickens, so my hen house remains chicken free – until dusk. Then all of the chickens who used to sleep in my hen house return and try to crash my party. I am sure the PC administer a reprimand to these rebel chickens promptly, but until then I will continue to eject them from my home with whatever means necessary (the word “shoo” makes up the bulk of my artillery). Because I am a new volunteer, I am having the bulk of my furniture created here, this includes a drying rack, shelves (for dishes), bookcase, and wardrobe for the few clothes I have now and the many clothes I plan to make later. The water pump is very close to my home, which I am thankful for, I do not want to chote heavy water very far in this hot climate!

The people of Makong’onda have been supremely helpful in making me feel at home. When I arrived my home was filled with people, singing and welcoming me home. My home continues to this day to be filled with people, as many teachers and students are in and out of my home everyday, looking at the random things I have on my table and then asking if they can have them. (If I did give up something every time I was asked, I would be out a computer, camera, 2 flashlights, and shoes). There was a village meeting where the majority of the village was told not to ask me for money (I was approached 5 minutes after the meeting and asked for money). I think it helped a little.

The work I intend to start here begins this weekend, when I will help with the village measles vaccinations. I will also begin teaching biology; soon in to the next semester I have been asked to teach chemistry and physics as well. These subjects are currently not taught here so the students simply do not learn them with the result that they are not able to pass the national exam and continue on with school. I’m hoping to be able to improve these scores, but have been warned by several teachers that the students dislike science (and school in general) so I may have my work cut out for me!

I continue to think about all of you back home often (though admittedly not as often as food….. drool) and I hope to hear from many of you soon! My new address is below – I would love to receive letters and news from all of you!

Keep my village and I in your prayers, and I will report again soon!

Mirinda

Mirinda Gormley
Peace Corps Volunteer
PO Box 440
Newala
Tanzania

The Big Day!

2008-08-12T05:32:00.001-07:00

Today we found out what sites we will be living in for the next two years while doing our service in Tanzania! It was a very excited buildup, with the people shouting "come on down so and so to this village!"...though towards the end the people who had not yet gotten their sites were a little more than stressed out, we were just plain giddy to know where we were going!

I found out that I will be going to the Deep South (the DEEEEEEP South) and that I have a very large, new house (with no electricity) right next to the school where I will be teaching Biology. I am one of the only volunteers (if not the only one) in the Health Group that got placed in an education site, mostly because I expressed that I would be able to teach, and this was what the community was really searching for. I will also be the first volunteer that this community has ever had, which will probably make for some pretty good pampering! I'm glad to be a teacher, because I will have a schedule and a lot of intergration into the community right away, and I'll get to know a lot of the teachers and community members!

I will not have an address for any of you until I am able to actually move in and see my banking town (which will probably be about 2 weeks), but promise that once I have it I will be posting it here for all to see - I would still love to get mail from everyone! :)

We have been spending the past several days before finding out our sites in Dar es Salaam - which is sort of like the capital of Tanzaia - EVRYTHING is here. My mission once we arrived (from our very small villages) was to see a movie and eat ice cream. There was something very surreal about sitting in an Air-conditioned theatre drinking a slushie (after eating Ice Cream) and watching Batman (which I highly recommend) in AFRICA! It was crazy, but I was very glad to get to go after such a long time in my small village!

We move from our villages in 2 weeks, and because of the distance from everyone in the Deep South, we will probably be the last to move. The Deep South appears to be the farthest from all of the other volunteers - but is VERY close to the beach, I can't wait to get rid of my already awful farmers tan!

If I haven't written you an e-mail - please realize that my time on computers for the past 10 weeks is very limited, I will be writing all of you very soon when I have a little more free time at my site - I really do miss everyone!

Peace

The Disclaimer

2008-08-09T03:16:00.000-07:00

Just so everyone is aware...with the exception of the blogs typed expertly by my father, all of my blogs are written in a window of 5 minutes, without a spell check. Its not that I'm forgetting the english language (though there are a lot of words that I forget and replace with Kiswahili) its just that I am pressed for time and don't have the keyboarding expertice that I used to.

I will be sending the new post information as well as a ton of pictures soon...stay tuned, and write to me after you get the new address...I miss all of you, but I'm still lovin Africa!

Baadaye!

Tanzania Tidbits

2008-08-09T02:49:00.000-07:00

So, I've been living my blog vicariously through my father for the past 7 weeks, as I have had no access to internet in my village (in fact, my village doesn't even sell toilet paper), so a special thanks to him.

For this past week, I have been living in a smaller village (and also harder to get to village) of L'angata, where I have been shadowing an education volunteer for the past week in the hopes to learn of the wisdoms of peace corps from his wise experience. Unfortunatly for myself and the other two volunteers who shadowed with my, Eathan had a TV and DVD player, so whereas I really did enjoy visiting his village, I also enjoyed watching almost an entire season of Heros, followed by a lot of Brad Pitt movies.

Actually, we did learn a little in Eathans village. This village is in the Kilomanjaro region of Tanzania, whereas this is usually a lush environment with lots of vegtables and a cool mountain breeze, God seems to have forgotton about L'angata, and thus all that is here is dirt, thorns, and TONS of donkeys. I really can't impress just how many donkeys there are in L'angata, and though they cannot be used for anything but hauling heavy objects (apparently its hard to farm in bedrock in an area where rain doesn't exist) they are well respected members of the community, as any given day you see a donkey from your back yard to inside the school buildings.

This week I will finally find out where my site is, my site being the place where I will live for the next two years. Once I get this information, an new address and of course stories describing where I will live will quickly follow, as well as the TONS of pictures that I have taken while in Tanzania but have been unable to share. I would like to point out, that I have recieved 7 letters and have re-read them each at least 10 times. For those of you who have written, spot on - I will re-write you as soon as I find a post office where the workers decided to show up for the day. For those of you who haven't written...seriously? Write me letters! I like being entertained by American news...and I really do miss being an intricate part of everyones life!

I need to post this before the internet crashes again...for more, see new post 2...

Dear Mom and Dad:

2008-07-12T06:38:00.000-07:00

Entry via Letter

Dear Mon and Dad:

I don’t want to start the letter with things I need you to send me, but I’ve decided that it would ultimately be amusing to explain why I need all the things I’m asking you to send me. I know you’re excited for that list so here goes….

1. Container of vanilla flavoring – candy and gum.

2. Peelers

3. Kitchen knives (2 pairing, 1 “chicken slicer”.

4. Butter and maple flavoring

5. Earphones – not the $0.99 duds – I need ones that will last.

6. Nail manicure / toe clippers.

7. Clearasil bar soap (3) with plastic container.

8. DVD’s – Jason knows what I watch. Get him to assemble 20 of my favorites.

Now, let’s move into the reasoning for this package, shall we? Some are more amusing than others but they are all necessary.

Container of Vanilla – Spices, flavorings, and (god forbid) chocolate RARELY occur here, it is necessary for my mental health that I receive vanilla (mental health? Seriously believe it – according to the PC rules I can get a paid vacation to Reno with those 2 magic words) so that I can cook Banana bread and cookies – sending it would only benefit you in the long run, as I’ll be able to cook more when you arrive to visit.

Peelers – There are three vegetables that make up the Tanzanian lunch, supper and snack groups, these are tomatoes, potatoes, and onions. Now, in order to eat tomatoes one does not simply slice in to “bun” slices, one peels said tomato with (what I’m assuming at one point once was) a knife, then mashes it into sauce for: cabbage, tompe, wali, ugali, potatoes, and various meat dishes. When not mashed the tomato can be sliced for salad (though no-one told my mama that tomatoes are consumed in this fashion). Now I know what you are thinking – what does the have to do with a peeler; you said you have a sharp object. Every time I pick up a knife and a Tomato, whether or not I actually want to peel it, a little piece of my mama dies. This is probably due to the fact that I take half of the usable tomato off with the peel, I take a little over 20 minutes to peel one tomato the size of a tennis ball, and I always resort to creative “mzungu 4-letter words” when I drop the tomato (on our dirt floor) or knick myself with the knife. Thus, if you send peelers, you will be helping thousand of tomatoes fullfill their destiny of being consumed by me or the other poor souls who eat my cooking.

Kitchen knives (3)

Paring knives are used for every meal, whether they have a handle, are sharp, or at one point doubled as a spear. I like my hands, cutting off a finger because I had to use my machete to butcher a chicken would be a shame.

Butter & Maple Flavoring – See note on vanilla…... sprinkle in more mental health words…

Earphones – It never occurred to me (while I was packing 8 pairs of shoes, extra everything, or buying hard-core cases for my electronic appliances) that Africa is a hot, dusty, and humid country. When the earphones I have die (don’t even get me started on the I Pod) I will have to actually listen to the rats in my room fighting in my dresser over whom gets to urinate on my computer next, when this occurs one of two things will happen. I’ll man up and attach the rats with a flashlight (and probably lose a limb) or I’ll sing to myself – in which case I’ll never fall asleep (and the rats won’t either).

Nail Manicure kit & Toe Clippers – This is a good one! So – I stopped biting my nails- good thing right? WRONG! Apparently you people who don’t bite your nails actually have the damn things still growing and to slow this process you clip them…crazy concept, but here’s the best part. Those long nails can now house the eggs of worms which-once ready can climb from my comfortable nail beds in to my food, then snuggle into my small intestine, unit painfully exiting via my rectum at a later date (if indeed they decide to leave at all). The best one was a girl in my CBT, who popped a zit with her long nails until it bled, then continued to scratch it. She had ringworm on her chin the next day, and I had short nails as of the minute I saw that ringworm. I cut them off with my sewing scissors. Please send the real thing.

Clearasil Bars of Soap – Lets be honest, no one likes acne least of all me, but I just don’t want to wash my face with soap that barely comes off my skin to begin with, it’s yucky and pink – I don’t’ want to look like Kirby all day. The malaria medication I’m taking doubles as acne medication (a small perk when you include the other lovely side effects, including yeast infections) so this is keeping my face polka-dot free, but I need something more, the Massai will offer less cows in a marriage proposal for mzungus with acne. I’m guessing no more than 3; attractive mzungus with no acne could pull down at least 5 cows for a marriage proposal. Moral of the story – no acne for me = more Massai cows for you…think about it.

Candy and Gum – Once again this is a metal health issue. Candy and Gum…gum doesn’t exist here, and candy is expensive and hard to find, so I’d really like to curb my sweet-tooth…which is slowly shrinking in to a salt tooth, as I am unable to find sweet things to suckle here in Africa.

I hope this has been educational letter in some respects, at least you know what I can’t live without and why. We’re still learning a ridiculous amount of Kiswahili; we had three tests this week, are reviewing our health knowledge, are reviewing our written Kiswahili and are reviewing our spoken Kiswahili, which we take tomorrow. I actually don’t mind speaking Kiswahili, don’t get me wrong, I don’t speak it incredibly well, but I’m getting to the point now where I can have conversations with my mama and siblings. My mama is incredibly excited that you are coming to visit me, she says she wants you to visit in Chanzuru and meet her and the family, I think it would be a great experience if time allowed, seeing how a Tanzanian family operates is really a special occurrence. Tourists definitely don’t get that side of Tanzania. Well I hope that you have a wonderful week. I’ll be sure to write soon-don’t hold your breath for a e-mail, it probably wont happen for 2 more weeks!

Lots of Love, Mirinda

Top 5

2008-07-03T19:58:00.000-07:00

The top 5 things I enjoy about Africa (thus far).

5. Kongas

No matter how many times in a row I have to wear a skirt, I can always change it up with a new Konga (piece of cloth tied around the waist like a towel) whose colors I can switch every day. For extra flavor, I change the smells of my konga, from soapy fresh bath konga to smoky cooking konga. I like to keep the public on their toes.

4. Muzungu

A muzungu is the African term for white person or foreigner. True, not a particularly great term, but when you walk down the streets and everyone drops what they are doing to lovingly call to you, and the ever more popular follow and call at the same time, it's hard not to feel like Brittney Spears being chased by the paparazzi (I wonder what my village would think if I shaved my head).

3. Chakula

The food here supposedly makes boys skinny and girls fat, this is due to the amount of starch that makes up a large portion of the Tanzanian diet. To this, I can only say, Bring it on! My Tanzanian mom (also know as Wolfgang Puck) is an amazing cook, beans, bananas,potatoes, cabbage, she is a genius with a charcoal stove, and I have no issue gaining a flat tire around the middle to satisfy her intense need to serve my 3 helpings at every meal.

2. Mbu

Owing to my large wariness of the fun of contracting Hepatitis C I have decided to stop biting my finger nails. At first I was annoyed by these long worthless dead deposits of calcium on the tips of my fingers, but thankfully the Mbu (mosquito) have provided me a solution, and now I have hours of entertainment scratching the millions of bites that cover my feet, legs, and arms.

Thank you mbu.

And the #1 reason I enjoy Africa............

It is true that you can get some horrible sickness while in Africa, but if you are a PCV, you have the super-duper, medical protective drug bubble. I have enough shots to avoid Meningitis, Yellow Fever, Flu, Typhoid, and Malaria. Lets not forget that I need only two extra shots should I be bitten by a rabid version of Pumbaa (because I already have the other 3 rabies shots).

True, no one is immune from the runs, but if you really think about it, with all the starch we eat, having the runs is slightly better than the alternative (having a "food baby" in your belly).

These reasons my friends, are why you should all come visit me soon (or within 6 months, as sanctioned by PC).

Ta!

The Post!

2008-06-27T06:15:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone, I definitly won't be able to get to the internet for the next 8 weeks, so unfortunatly you will just have to wait to get information from me! The good news is that I have a mailing address, for information on that please contact my parents at dixie.trout@pearson.com and they will send it to you, or you can get it from facebook!

Africa is amazing, and unlike anything I thought it would be. I have mastered the squat (for use of the choo), become incredibly fond of rice, but not ugali (which is flour with a little water) and also very fond of every vegetable under the sun, all of which are sold here. This is a great place to come to visit (hint, hint)

I dont have a lot of time to relate stories, because I only have 5 minutes of internet time, but I will have plenty by the time I am out of training, I might even write them in Kiswahili! :)

Lots of love to all of you!

Arrived!

2008-06-12T06:04:00.000-07:00

I have finally arrived in Tanzania and am now getting used to getting up early, using squat toilets, and getting vaccinations! Today we had to get our HUGE medical kit, which includes some in depth instructions for any medical malady that may hit (but with a special emphasis on diarrhea) and we also got internet access (though not much!) and picked up our passports. Its nice to have an easy day after all of the traveling...8 hours from DC to Frankfurt, then 50 minutes to Zurich, then 8 more hours to Naraobi and finally 1 hour to Dar es Salaam. Tomorrow is the day I am worried about, we have to get vaccinations for EVERYTHING, including rabies, Heps A and B, a new Flu shot, and many, many, more! More news to come soon, including pictures, once I get the feel for where I can use my camera! :)

First Day!

2008-06-09T04:17:00.001-07:00

Well I'm excited to finally be getting started with the Peace Corps things, but also a little nervous as we spent a lot of today with quotes like these:

Some people say the glass is half empty, some say the glass is half full. Peace Corps Tanzania volunteers look at the glass and say "Look, I can take a shower".

A lot of the stuff we are learning is really interesting, like safety and security tips, I've already made the decision to sleep with my camera. ;)

More to come after day two, but I should point out that I crossed over from being an official invitee of the PC to an official trainee...so Wahoo for me (they say to celebrate the small accomplishments, so please feel free to be ecstatic on each baby step I take) ;)

2008-06-03T17:00:00.000-07:00

I figured out how to post pictures. The whole blog thing is a LOT easier to use than I thought it would be. Anyway, pictures of the three of us graduating...first Paul in 1994 and now Gorm and I in 2008...now all the Gormley klan have ISU degrees! :)

Getting Ready

2008-06-01T21:00:00.000-07:00

So I'm getting ready to leave for Tanzania...and getting poorer by the minute! :) I have all of my stuff, but I'm still needing to collect all of my pictures and books and toys to take with me. Right now I just wanted to test out this whole blog thing...I'm going to post a couple of pictures of getting ready to leave soon...again just to test this whole blogging thing out.