Adjusting to Life in Mkuu

December 11, 2009

I heard "Jingle Bells" playing on the TV in the teachers' staff room the other day, but that is the only reminder that I have had that Christmas is almost here.  No chaotic Christmas shopping trips, no lights, no trees, no sinfully delicious high calorie foods.  I can't say I miss the commercialism, but to me Christmas means being with family and friends, and I definitely miss you all.  I really have no plans for Christmas this year.  I will probably go to church on Christmas Eve and maybe again on Christmas day.  It will all be in a foreign language and I might recognize a tune or two, but I don't imagine I will be belting out any hymns in Kiswahili.  Still, I am sure that if I keep an open heart, I will feel the presence of God.  I may not know the words but I will understand.

Adjusting to life here in Mkuu has been a bit tougher than I imagined.  In Morogoro I went home to a ready made family every day, and they interacted with me whether they wanted to or not.  Now I must make friends on my own.  The teachers and the headmaster are nice but not very sociable.  Maybe like me, they are a bit shy, and I just need to give it time.  Yesterday one of the teachers talked to me in English.  He told me his brother runs a trekking company and takes people to Ngorongoro Crater and Serengeti National Parks.  It would love to go there sometime.  The headmaster's secretary sat at my desk during lunch today and we chatted in English and broken Swahili.  She seemed very nice and she is one of the few staff members even close to my age.  Most of the teachers are the age of my children.  One of the highlights of my day is lunch.  Gaspara, the mhudumu (the waitress) does not talk to me but I think she likes me.  Yesterday she gave me five choice pieces of meat.  At first she gave me the standard two, then she looked at me and put the spoon back in the pot and scooped out a couple more.  Then she scooped again and gave me a fifth piece.  Hopefully I do not look that pitiful, but the meat was

delicious, fat and all.

Finding food is really not a problem here, but I am not sure where or when to buy meat.  There are no grocery stores, so you have to buy meat from a butcher at the market.  The meat hangs on a hook in the open air all day.  I wonder about the flies and the dust and how long it has been hanging there.  I do not have refrigeration either, so I just do not eat much meat anymore.  I can buy eggs from the librarian, but I usually eat peanut butter or small dried fish called dagaa.  They are a bit of a pain to prepare.  You need to snap their little heads off (if you can tell the head from the tail) then you have to wash them three times to remove the sand.  I boil them first and then fry them with tomatoes and onions, maybe carrots and green peppers and eat them with rice or ugali (stiff porridge).  It may not be much of an accomplishment, but my Tanzanian family would be so proud of me.  I cooked ugali the other night "peke yangu" (all by myself).  It was not as good as Aggie's but it was edible and that is all that counts. I rather enjoy walking through the market with my shopping bag every week, chatting in Kiswhahili with the ladies, choosing and buying fresh produce.  I drew a large crowd when I asked a lady how to cook a bunch of green leaves that I had bought (they smelled pretty leafy). The ladies were delighted that I could speak Kiswahili and were eager to give me advice. How little it takes to entertain.

Wednesday was a holiday, Tanzania's Independence Day.  My students told me there was no school so I did not go to work.  I woke up to find both my porches covered with wings of kumbi kumbi (flying ant-like bugs) and many in my kitchen as well.  There was an army of ants marching around the perimeter of my house (as long as they stay outside we can be friends). Apparently the rain brings them out, and they must have lived where my house now stands.  I cleaned them up and "nilipiga deki" (I washed the floors).  Then  I thought I would just relax and maybe take a walk through the banana forests, maybe up the mountain.  However, it poured all day.  By mid afternoon, I was bored.  How much lesson planning can you do for one class of 19 kids?  I decided to play solitaire on my computer and listen to some itunes.  Unfortunately, after 10 minutes the screen turned white and very bad things seemed to be happening to my computer.  I quickly unplugged it from the voltage regulator and turned it off.  After a few minutes I tried to turn it on again and it would not work.  I switched batteries.  Nothing except for some strange beeps.  I tried a few more times and then resigned myself to the fact that it was dead.  That quickly ruined my mood.  I will admit I shed a few tears and said a little prayer.  The rain stopped, so I went out for a walk and watched the crowds try to free the dala dalas (small buses) mired in the mud on the road.  I went home and decided to try my computer one more time.  It started right up!  Hopefully it is fully cured and will survive two years.  I did not realize how much this connection to my friends and family really meant to me.  Writing you these lengthy e-mails not only allows me to share my experiences with you, but it helps me to process them as well.

Yesterday was sports day at school.  Students in green school uniforms seemed to be all over campus all day.  I do not know how they got here.  They did not come by bus so I assume they walked.  Half of my students were absent at the start of class but trickled in after awhile.  (I think that they are enjoying my class and don't like to miss it).  After school I stayed to watch the girls' netball game.  Mkuu needs a bit more practice.  Despite the lopsided score, students from both schools cheered and at the end of the game rushed out on the court to surround their classmates and celebrate their efforts.  Next I walked down the hill to watch the boys' soccer game.  I could have watched it from my kitchen porch but I decided to go down to the field and mingle with the crowd.  The headmaster gave me a coca cola and a student brought me a chair. 

 As I watched the game, I thought of the countless number of soccer games I have played in or watched in America.  All of our players always had nicely matching uniforms, long socks, shin guards and cleats.  You would not be allowed to play without these things.  The game ball would be shiny and new.  Here in Tanzania, the boys just want to play, so they play in whatever they have.  All had similar jerseys, possibly bought by the school or donated by some organization.  A very few had nice looking cleats but most had no shoes at all!  And not a single player on either team wore shin guards. The ball was the same color as the dirt (reddish brown), and as the sun began to go down (no stadium lights), the ball was difficult to see.  Speaking of the field, it is crisscrossed by paths made by people going to the duka, the dispensary, or to school or church.  Women and children trim the grass by hand or with small machetes.  (The grass is used to feed their goats and cows). The field looks a bit patchy but it is playable.  Neither is it lined but the boundaries are known.  I was surprised to see referees.  The center ref never spoke; he just tweeted his whistle until he got his desired response.  The boys played their hearts out. The students on both sides danced and sang and cheered.  This probably would never have been allowed at a game in America, but a group of fans from the opposing school danced over in a line and mingled in our student section.  Students from both  schools danced and sang together.  A group of small boys sat on the endline near the goal just waiting for their chance to go out on the field and kick a ball.  Many had brought their own "bag" balls for that purpose.  The game ended in a tie.  Students celebrated on the field.  The sun began to set and the view of the mountains in the distance grew dim.  I returned my soda bottle and walked up to my house.  It had been a good day.  As I closed the door, it began to rain, again.  (these are the short rains, I wonder what the long rains will be like).

Today I went to work and turned in my midterm exam.  I have only been here for about two weeks but was told to prepare an exam.  I had no idea what had been taught (if anything had been taught) before I arrived.  Hopefully it will be ok.  Next Friday after finishing exams, my students will have a two week holiday break. 

It is nice being back in the classroom and I especially enjoy this new challenge.  How do I teach with no resources?  On my day off, I drew a periodic table on an old plastic sack.  Now I have to figure out how to hang it up.  Tape does not like to stick to the dusty walls.  But the kids were really impressed.  I also bought them each a sheet of yellow card stock last weekend when I was in town.  Now they can make their own periodic tables.  Writing electron configurations is much easier when they can read them directly from the table.  I could see the excitement in my students' eyes as they began to understand.  For homework, I told them to write electron configurations for the first 36 elements, and they looked like I had given them a Christmas present.  They sat in little groups, eagerly discussing their work, while I slipped out.  Teaching has never been so rewarding.

Thanksgiving

November 30, 2009

Thanksgiving is now past and you are probably heavily into the Christmas shopping season.  The holiday season in Tanzania is not quite the same.  However, despite the absence of the familiar feast, I have found many opportunities to give thanks.  Last Sunday, we had a "send off" celebration for the trainees in my group.  Two families were busy and could not help with preparations, so the responsibility fell on my family's shoulders.  They all got up before dawn to go to the market to buy the food for the feast.  When I awoke at 6 a.m. only little Maria (4), Victoria's granddaughter, and Goodi (10), Victoria's nephew, were at home.  No one had eaten, so I asked Goodi to light the charcoal stove so that  I could make some tea.  He could not find matches so I asked Maria to take me to the duka so I could buy some.  At the duka I saw mandazi (little fried dough cakes).  I asked for six (2 for me, 2 for Maria, and 2 for Goodi).  Maria tried to tell the shop owner that we did not need mandazi, we had leftover rice at home.  I bought them anyway and he gave me seven.  He wrapped them in newspaper so grease would not get on my hands as I carried them home.  Maria and I skipped all the way.

When we arrived, the girls had returned with baskets of fruits and vegetables.  They even had a bag of meat.  Meat!  We would have meat that day!  This really was a celebration.  The girls began preparing the meal.  Meanwhile, Victoria returned from church with an older couple that I had met once before.  She seated them in the living room and called me in for tea.  Diana followed with a plate of mandazi, seven of them.  The man and the woman each had two or three, Victoria insisted that I take at least one, and she had the remainder.  The plate was empty.  Not quite what I intended when I bought those mandazi that morning, but I am thankful that Victoria had something nice to offer her unexpected guests. That is so important in Tanzania.  The children ate the leftover rice with their tea.

After the couple left, I went into the kitchen to help the girls.  The party was at 2:00 and there was much work to do.  We cut and peeled and chopped vegetables and swatted flies.  I picked the rocks and small crawling things out of the rice and decided to call Cheryl.  Soon she and her homestay mama and a couple of her mama's friends came to help.  The women gave Cheryl and me some simple tasks to do, mostly, I think, to keep us out of the way.  Maria took us to the outdoor sink to wash the rice that I had cleaned earlier.  We watched carefully as she showed us what to do, but after a while we realized that we were actually just playing with rice in a pot of water.  I am thankful for Maria.

Finally it was time!  Everyone bathed and changed into their best clothes, except for me and Cheryl.  I guess we had not really done enough work to get dirty.  Soon the guests began to arrive.  Small guests, children in fact.  There were a few adults, but soon the living room was filled with children each with a plate piled high with food: rice, meat, potatoes, vegetables and even a soda to drink.  Our Peace Corps farewell dinner was a feeding of the children!  Truly this was good, and I was thankful.

 After most people had gone, the girls began the chore of cleaning up.  Bibi (Victoria's mother) began packing and getting Goodi and baby Jasmine (Goodi's sister) ready to go.  Victoria and I began walking with them to the dala dala stop.  Before we left the house, Bibi took my hand and in it she placed a hand carved rosary.  It was a commemorative rosary celebrating the 100th anniversary of the consulate.  Her sister had been a nun.  Now her sister was gone.  She wished me a safe journey and reminded me that God would be with me.  I am thankful for Bibi.

When we returned home Victoria gave me a small rosary card (in English) and explained how to pray the rosary.  As she explained each mystery in Kiswahili, she told me about her life.  "Kuna shida kubwa hapa Tanzania."  There are big problems in Tanzania.  She is the oldest of six children.  Three have already died, of AIDS.  The children that are left behind come to her.  She told me that she soon would be 50 and she thanks God that she has lived such a long life.  However, sometimes she asks Him why He has allowed her to live so long.  Her burden is so heavy.

The night before leaving Morogoro, I gave my family gifts.  I gave Victoria, Aggie, and Diana cloth and money for a fundi (skilled craftsman) to make them each a new dress.  I gave Judi an envelope containing money for her school fees for the upcoming semester.  I also showed her three of my t-shirts and told her to pick one.  She chose two.  I gave Victoria the reading glasses that I had bought at Walgreens in case my eyesight failed while in Africa.  She needed them more than me.  I gave Goodi a jigsaw puzzle, and Maria the book that we had read together so many times (Are You My Mother?).  I wrote them a letter in Kiswahili and read it to them at dinner.  We had fish that night and Victoria gave me a tail piece instead of a head, and then she gave me her own piece as well.  Aggie gave me beaded jewelry so that I would look like the Masai and a notebook in which she had written instructions for how to cook various Tanzanian foods.  They had also each written me a letter.

The next morning, with tears in her eyes, Aggie said good-bye before she left for work.  Judi, Diana and Maria sat on the porch with me and my luggage, waiting for the Peace Corps car.  Victoria came out with an old notebook in which she had copied hymns.  We began singing together.  She prayed for me and we sang again.  And we cried.  Loving people is what brings the most joy to my life, but loving people is also what brings the most pain.  I am thankful for my Tanzanian family, and I wish that I could do more for them, but I really don't know how. 

On the bus ride to Dar I translated their letters and this is what they said:

(from Victoria) To Ruth
The Spirit of God is with you.  May you travel in peace and live peacefully with the Chaga people.  God bless you as you meet the good, kind people and get to know them.  Peace to you always.  You are a bright light and you love all people. Blessings my dear one.  Indeed God is good.  I am grateful to have met you.  Indeed you are person of God.  I have seen the hand of God on you.  You lead in giving happiness all the time.  You have given me much comfort and returned to me happiness, and I hope I will not lose it again.  Thank you for playing with and teaching the children.  They like you very much.  The neighbors and my mother, they also like that you are a good mother.  I want you to hear their sadness when they are separated from you.  We will remember you always in prayer.  Go with blessings my dear one.

(from Aggie) Good-bye beautiful mother Ruth

Your are a very nice sister, a beautiful mother of a family which is the reason you are able to live anywhere.  Thank you for the very nice gifts.  They are the reason I am very happy and I like them very much.  God will bless you very much and may He make your life long here on earth.  I will always remember you every minute of my life.  If I have made any mistakes, please forgive me because people are not perfect.  Only God alone is perfect.  I had only a short time with you because I was late to return home each night, however I was longing to be with you all the time.  If it is not a problem, I would like to come visit you in Moshi.  I cannot give you much, but I want you to have a good life there in Moshi.  We will remember each other in prayer because there is only one road until we meet again.  Have a good trip and go in peace. 

(from Diana) Halo Ruth

You are leaving and you leave behind sadness because I am used to you being my English teacher.  Now you are leaving, what will I do?  I was used to you being here, but now I must accept that I must bid you good-bye with tears.  When you leave me, I will cry tears.  We must bid each other good-bye, but I will put you in my prayers.  I pray you go and return safely to see us.  God is with us.  I believe you are like my mother.  I hope to come see you, and greet you and the dear people that live there.  I do not have much to give you, but God will watch over you.  Amen, Diana

On Thanksgiving day I traveled by cross country bus to my new home in Mkuu, the Kilimanjaro region of Tanzania.  I had some bread and a can of chicken salad and some crackers for dinner.  My thoughts were of you and my new Tanzanian family. 

God bless you all,

A Surreal Experience

November 20, 2009

I have just had the most amazing surreal experience.  It all began when I returned to Morogoro from Dar on Wednesday.  Diana and Judi ran to greet me when they saw me walk into the yard.  They were so glad to see me.  However, after that they disappeared.  I did not see them again for the rest of the day.  I went to bed that night, and they were still not home.  The next morning, Judi was there in the kitchen and I asked about Diana.  Judi said she was at church (kanisa).  That seemed odd, but ok, this is Tanzania.  Things are different here.  Maybe it is customary to go to church on Thursday. That afternoon I got home just before dark, and Diana was still gone.  I asked about her again, and Judi said that she was at kanisa.  Well, it sounded kind of like "kanisa" but not quite, so I said "the convent?"  Judi said "ndiyo" (yes).  I wondered why Diana would be at the convent. 

I gathered my things and went to the kitchen to take my usual spot on the chair to study while dinner was being prepared.  I had my final oral Kiswahili proficiency test the next day and I needed to score an intermediate mid level.  I was a bit worried.  Victoria and Judi were already there.  Aggie came home later. Then a truck pulled up in the yard and a man came in.  Mama Victoria introduced him.  He was Father Walter, the priest from the mission church.  We had a nice conversation, mostly in Kiswahili with only a bit of Kiingereza (English).  He said that if my family wanted to visit or if I wanted to return to Morogoro, we were welcome to stay at the mission.

The evening progressed.  Every so often I would ask if Diana was returning for dinner and they would tell me yes.  By 8:00, dinner was ready and Diana was still not home.  I asked again and Victoria said she was late.  I thought she told me to get my torch (flashlight) and we would go look for her, so I did.  As I started to walk out the door, Victoria looked very surprised and jumped up to go with me.  She led me to a small house in the neighborhood.  We "hodi hodi"ed at the door and they welcomed us in.  Diana was there, along with several other men, women, and children.  The place smelled like very old, concentrated, stale sweat.  Someone pulled up a stool for me and I sat down.  Victoria sat near me on a chair.  An old man was reading from the Bible in Kiswahili.  Then a very tall, younger man stood up and began to preach.  There was one light bulb hanging from the ceiling behind him and it was not very bright, so all I could really see was his sillouette.  He was speaking the fastest Kiswahili I have ever heard, and he was working up quite a sweat.  I did not understand most of what he said, but I did catch a few words.  Still, I was mesmerized.  Next, everyone stood and began to sing.  You would not believe it, because I can barely imagine it and I was there, but I began singing as well, in KISWAHILI!  The preacher would move toward me and sing a line, and I would echo it, belting it out loudly for all to hear.  Here I am, a little white woman, in the middle of a group of Tanzanians, singing in a language I barely even know, and no one even seemed to think that it was odd.  After his sermon, the preacher asked me if I wanted to speak to Jesus (he said it in Kiswahili, so that is what I think he said).  I turned and asked Victoria, "does he mean pray?''  She said "ndiyo", so I replied that I did not know how to speak to Jesus in Kiswahili.  But everyone stood up and began speaking in what sounded like "tongues."  Really, everyone was praying their own individual prayers, very loudly, at the same time, so I started praying loudly too in English.  After that, we sang some more songs, which for some strange reason, I seemed to know.  Then the preacher put a cushion on the floor and invited me to kneel.  I did, and he placed his hand on my head, and for the longest time, he preached and yelled and shook my head.  I am quite sure that if I had had demons in me, they would have all jumped out and run away.  My homestay family is Catholic, but this was not like any mass I had ever attended.  After praying for me, I stood up and everyone shook my hand, we sang and then we left.  Walking through the dark, trying to avoid the ruts in the path, and pondering this surreal experience, I felt Diana take my hand.  I was glad that I had gone looking for her.  However, I was still shocked that I had been singing Kiswahili hymns with ease.  We arrived home, and Aggie and Judi were waiting.  We ate a very late dinner and I went to bed.  I was too tired to study for my test, but for some reason, I was not worried anymore. 

The next morning I woke up and walked to the training center with Cheryl.  My OPI exam was scheduled for 9:00.  Others were pacing and carrying dictionaries, but still I was not worried.  When it was my turn, I walked into the room and took one look at my examiner.  Would you believe it was a nun?  I sat down and started babbling away to her in Kiswhahil.  I told her I was going to Kilimanjaro, and there I would eat a lot of bananas and avocados.  She laughed and asked me about my homestay family.  Which Catholic church was I attending?  I told her all of them and again, she laughed.  I explained that Victoria is a lay teacher for the church.  She teaches childrens' catechist classes.  After almost half an hour of "small talk," I finally read and responded to the test prompt, but I walked out of there knowing that I had done well.

"Sasa nimemaliza mafunzo."  Now I have completed training!  Yay!  All that is left is the swearing in ceremony in Dar next week and then we head off to our work sites on Thanksgiving day.  I will be thinking of all of you, especially your nice delicious turkey dinners.

Shadowing

November 17, 2009

I am now in the village of Mpwapwa, Dodoma region.  I am at a Teachers' College using their nice computers in a nice cool room.  We are shadowing current Peace Corps Volunteers this week.  Maseeh (a young man from Albany, NY) and I were assigned to shadow at an A-level all boys boarding school in Bihawana, Dodoma region.  It rained and was quite cool both days that we were there, but as usual, it was another memorable experience. 

The volunteer that I was shadowing teaches chemistry, and he asked if I would teach a lesson.  Although I have taught for many years in the US, I appreciated the opportunity to practice my Tanzanian teaching, so I agreed.  I taught a short lesson on "factors that affect the rate of a chemical reaction." Things went well.  The students seemed to understand my special English, although I had some difficulty understanding theirs.  That afternoon my host asked me if I would teach again the next day but this time would I do a lab?  I was not really thrilled at the prospect, because labs require more time to prepare and I was not familiar with this school.  There are also very few lab manuals in Tanzania.  I told him that first I would have to see what materials were available and then I would write a simple lab.  I found some miralac tablets (CaCO3) in my bag and I bought some baking powder (NaHCO3) at the little duka (shop) across the road.  Aron, my host, had some battery acid that we diluted, and he also had some hydrogen peroxide.  In the laboratory, I found some MnO2 to use for a catalyst. 

The next morning we went to the laboratory and played around a bit to see if my procedures were feasible.  They were, so I wrote the procedures on the board while Aron called for some students to set up the lab (they were just sitting in class waiting for the teacher to come).  Lab equipment was scattered everywhere, so it took a while to organize.  Finally, everything was ready and Aron went to the classroom to call the students.  They started arriving and kept coming and coming and coming.  We had set up 24 lab stations!  I looked out over the room from the raised platform in front, and I saw dozens of faces staring at me intently.  There had to be at least 80, if not 90, students.  They were going to be using fire (kerosene stoves) and acid. To top it off, I had torn the edge on one of my contact lenses that morning and it was really irritating my eye, and I did not see Aron anywhere.  I was sure that this day was going to be a disaster.  However, I smiled and greeted the students properly, and then began explaining each procedure. 

The first part of the lab had to be a demonstration because I only had four CaCO3 tablets.  I asked for two students to come up to pour the acid into the test tubes, and you would have thought I had asked "who would like to be a millionaire?" because everyone wanted to help.  I chose two boys and we did the demonstration.  The test tubes were passed around for all to see.  After that, I told the students to begin working on the next three sections.  I walked around the room to assist and it seemed that everyone had questions.  I sent someone to find Aron and he came in to help. 

I had initially been dreading this day, but as I interacted with the students, my whole attitude began to change.  The boys were loving this!  Rarely do they get to do hands on activities.  Most lessons involve lecture and rote memorization.  Now they were lighting stoves, mixing chemicals, and making observations just like the chemists they had heard about.  I asked them about their results, and they eagerly described their observations. Then I asked them to explain why they had obtained those results, and there was a long pause.  But I gave them time to think, and soon they began making connections between what I had talked about in the classroom and what they were observing in the lab.  There was almost a look of astonishment on their faces as they began to see the light.  I think that maybe I will love teaching in Tanzania after all.

On another note, there are other stories that are more frustrating and heart wrenching.  I recently found out that Diana is not really the daughter of my homestay mother.  She is somehow related, but I have not yet pieced together the story.  I have been trying to talk to her about her schooling, but every time I mention it, she tells me that she has completed standard 7 (7th grade).  I asked a current Peace Corps
Volunteer what she thought about it, and she said that it is likely that Diana either did not pass the required exams to move on to O-level (secondary school) or does not have the money for the school fees.  Many do not, especially girls.  Like a wave passing over my head, I realized that Diana's formal education may be over at 14.  If it is, her opportunities are limited.  I really care about that little girl.  Wouldn't you feel close to someone who washes your feet? The other morning as she and Judi were walking me and Cheryl to the dala dala stop, the girls were whispering.  They said something but I did not understand, so we stopped and Judi wrote in the sand, "tutataka kukufuata kilimanjaro kufanya kazi".  They want to come to Kilimanjaro to be our housegirls.  We made light of it, but deep down I know that they were serious.  I talked to Cheryl about it later, and she reminded me that I cannot support all of Tanzania even if their problems do touch my heart.

So what am I doing in Mpwapwa?  Our shadow host brought us here to meet his friend and his two shadows.  Two other shadows joined us without their host.  We will have a full house tonight.  Monday we travel to Dar to Peace Corps Headquarters and then return to our homestay families in Morogoro on Wednesday.  We only have about a week left with them.  It is going to be very sad for my family when I
leave, especially Diana.  They have already invited me to return for either Christmas or Easter to do some dancing.  Oh, I had a dress made for our swearing in ceremony.  My family says that now I am a real "Mama Africa." 

Kuna Hatari (There is Danger?)

November 10, 2009

Thursday afternoon my friend, Cheryl, and I were on our way to a nearby hotel bar to get a cold soda and to study kiswahili for our upcoming test.  As we were walking, she got a call from our LCF (language and cross-cultural facilitator) but it was kind of garbled.  She tried to call him back but the call was dropped.  He texted her again and the message contained a code word indicating that we should be on alert.  I received the same text as well.  We continued on to the hotel and about an hour later, we both received another text message with an upgraded code word.  We were instructed to report immediately to our emergency consolidation point.  We were told to bring a bag in case it became necessary to evacuate. 

The consolidation place was Cheryl's house, so I went home alone to get my things.  All we knew was that there was trouble somewhere in the country.  When I got home, it was nearly dark and there was no electricity.  I was tearing through my stuff trying to pack as quickly as possible.  When I was finished, I went outside with my bag and tried to explain to Diana (14) and Judi (16) why I was leaving.  I gave Diana a jigsaw puzzle of the United States and, in the dim light, pointed out where I live (or used to live).  I told Diana that I would text Aggie (24) who was still at work, but it would take time me some time to look up the words.  I was carrying a shell in my hand that the girls had given me and I gave them both big hugs.  Both girls were looking quite confused.  Diana kept saying "useme kiswahili!"  (You speak Kiswahili!)  I said "sijui kiswahili!  Ninahitaji kusema kiingereza."  (I don't know kiswahili.  I need to speak English).  Finally Diana took my flashlight and walked me and my suitcase down the road.  It seemed like all of the neighbors were sitting outside that evening.  Halfway down the road, we met Cheryl.  She took my backpack and once again, as we were walking, she received a call.  This time it was a fellow trainee saying that it was all clear and that we could return home.  I received a call from the LCF but Cheryl did not, and since she is our emergency warden, she was not very happy.  She ran off to her home to find out why. 

Diana and I were still standing in the road, she with my suitcase and me with a big shell in my hand.  I turned to Diana and tried to explain to her that everything was now ok and we were going home.  Evidently she did not understand, because she started waving good-bye to me.  I took her hand and turned toward home.  Dragging the suitcase along the dirt road with all the neighbors staring was difficult and embarrassing enough, but now we also had to go through a field in the dark to get to the house.  I gave Diana the flashlight to light the way, and hoisted up my suitcase.  Diana must weigh less than 80 pounds but she did not want me to carry that bag.  I insisted that I was bigger (although she probably is stronger) and that I would carry it.  Finally, we made it home and I realized that Cheryl had my room key in my backpack.  Once more, we turned around and walked through the dark to Cheryl's house to get the key. 

That evening I tried to find the words to explain the day's events to my family. We had been told that some elections had gone bad and that there had been rioting in town, but when I explained this to my family, they looked at me like I had lost my mind.  They kept insisting that Tanzania was safe.  Victoria wanted to know where Peace Corps thought they would send me: Kenya, Uganda, Mozambique, Congo?  Didn't they all have enough trouble of their own?  I said I would have been sent to Mozambique.  They wanted to know who I would stay with in Mozambique, and I said that I did not know anyone in Mozambique. They thought this, and the fact that Diana and I had been running up and down the road with a suitcase, was hilarious.  We had another eye watering, belly splitting laugh.  I am so glad that I am such a source of amusement for the Tanzanians in my community.

The next day at the training center, the security director asked if we had any comments about the previous day's event.  I raised my hand and repeated the words that my host family had suggested I say,  "Familia yangu wanataka kujua kwa nini mlichemsha bongo yangu. Hakuna hatari Tanzania."  "My family wants to know why you have boiled my brains.  There is no danger in Tanzania."  The Tanzanian Peace Corps staff howled with laughter.  The language facilitator came up and shook my hand.  In a nutshell, it was only a drill, but neither the trainees nor the host families had known it at the time.  So during class, I wrote an explanation to my family and translated it into Kiswahili.  I felt like I needed to let them know that I was really not insane.  That amused my family for another night.

Pig in the Closet

November 10, 2009

I have been in Morogoro, Tanzania for more than a month now participating in pre-service training.  Four days a week, my small group of trainees meet with our Tanzanian teacher for language and cross-cultural instruction. We meet in an unfinished classroom building at a local school.  The building consists of two classrooms connected by an office area.  There is nothing in the building except for some construction debris and a few chairs and tables for our lessons. 

Recently, for a couple of days, we kept hearing weird noises but thought it was the teacher clearing her throat or maybe something outside.  I also smelled an odd smell but attributed it to poor plumbing in the house next door.  Then one day during class, I heard a definite grunt.  I said, "I know that sound.  It is a pig!"  We all got up and looked in the only enclosed area in the building, a closet in the office area.  There was definitely a pig living there (not a full grown one but not a tiny baby either).  We eventually found out that the church next to the school had had a raffle and the pig was the prize.  The person who won it did not have a way to get it home, so he left it in the closet.  The people next door were feeding it.  I have had pets in the classroom before, but imagine having a pig in your closet.  It was a sad day when its owner came to claim him.  He tied a rope around one of the pig's legs and tried to walk it home. Pig did not want to go.  I think he liked listening to Kiswahili lessons every day.  Probably was a smart pig like Wilbur. 

Language Flubs and Stealing Clothes

October 31, 2009

This has been a busy week.  Got the results of my initial Kiswahili written exam and oral proficiency exam.  I need a 60% on the final written exam and an intermediate mid on the proficiency exam.  I got an 89% on the written midterm and an intermediate low on the oral. I hope it was not because I told the interviewer (in Kiswahili) that the next day was Saturday and that I was going to Mikumi National Park to see animals.  It was true.  I was going to the park on Saturday.  Unfortunately, the next day was not Saturday.  However, I am pleased with my score, but I know that I still have a lot of studying and practice to do.  Continue reading and you will see why.

Last Sunday after returning from an amazing trip to Mikumi National Park (saw many animals, see the posted pictures), my Tanzanian family was not at home so I decided to do my own laundry.  You know: get the bucket, fetch the water, scrub and rinse.  Then hang your clothes inside out on the line so that they do not get too dusty before they dry.  I am not usually permitted to do my own laundry, so I was proud of myself for accomplishing this task.  In the evening, Diana (14) was home, so we were taking down my laundry together.  There were two towels and a pair of women's capri pants hanging there as well.  I assumed they were my family's, so I held up the pants to Diana and said, "Diana, mdogo(small), suarali kubwa (pants big), these are Aggie's".  Then I gave the little towel to Diana and told her to give the big towel to Aggie.  I gave the clothes pins to Mama Victoria.  That evening I will admit that I was confused when Aggie said "thank you for the gifts."  I thought she was just happy that Peace Corps had paid them for my room and board that weekend and we actually had good food to eat again. Usually our choices are quite limited. After dinner, Aggie put on the capris and modeled them for me.  I thought she was just wanted to show me that she also had jeans.  (I had worn jeans to Mikumi).  I told her they were very nice.  Remember she speaks very little English and I understand very little Kiswahili.  The next afternoon when I came home from class, Diana and Judi (niece) were there.  They said "you give Aggie gift", and then they break into uncontrollable laughter.  Apparently, Charles, the gentleman boarder had come to Diana earlier that morning and asked if she had seen his clothespins and his laundry from the line.  She realized my mistake and she had to bite her lips to keep from laughing out loud. She said it was a good thing that Aggie had not worn her new pants to work.  Diana gave him back his laundry: the things that I had stolen from the line and given as "gifts" to my host family.  I wrote a note of apology to Aggie in Kiswhili to explain my mistake and gave it to her when she came home.  The family was in stitches all evening.  We laughed so hard we were exhausted. 

I am not sure about Charles. This was not the first time that my mistakes involved him.  He had sent me a text message on my phone (Chinese blackberry) when he went on a trip to Dar a few weeks ago. Walking home from class, my phone bounced around in my backpack and somehow it accidently replied to his text.  He sent me a message saying "Thanks for caring but some of your messages are blank".  I was surprised because I did not think I had replied at all, so I looked in my sent messages box.  My phone had sent him blank messages and template messages such as "let's meet for lunch" or "I'll call you later" at least 48 times!! When he returned, I tried to explain that it was my phone that called him, not me.  He tried to figure out how to lock the keypad, but I think he may still be a bit afraid of me.

As the Tanzanians would say, I am doing "my level best" to learn this language and this culture.  The result is that my best attempts often provide much needed entertainment for the people in my community.  Recently my friend Cheryl (another PCV) and I rode home from town in a very, very crowded dala dala (small public bus). This was our first trip unescorted.  I could not see Cheryl on the crowded bus, but after awhile I heard her say "shusha" which means "I want to get off the bus."  I did not hear her say "shusha Kola Hill" so when we got to the next stop, I hopped out of the dala dala.  All the Tanzanians were calling to me, "mzungu, come back."  I realized they wanted me to get back on, so I did.  I still could not see or hear Cheryl, so I thought maybe I was supposed to get off at the next stop.  The dala dala stopped and I got ready to jump off.  Now everyone was laughing at this little white woman who kept trying to jump off the bus.  Finally a neighbor recognized me and moved closer to my seat. When we finally arrived at the correct stop, she took my hand and led me off.  Then she walked me home.

Another mix-up had my classmates laughing.  The Kiswahili words for "to be married", "to understand", and "to be drunk" are all very similar.  I volunteered to read one of my homework sentences aloud during class one day.  I thought I was saying "when I got married, my mother was very happy." but my teacher looked at me and said "what?"  Actually I had said "when I was drunk, my mother was very happy."

Oh the joy of language learning!  Immersion is the way!