Kuuliza si ujinga!

When I started thinking about what I would write to mark one year in Tanzania, I had all these great ideas, a clever title, funny stories, and lessons I learned. So, I began writing….I wrote for almost five pages. And when I came to the end of my train of thought, I realized that all the nitty-gritty details were not interesting to anyone, except maybe my mother (and that’s only because she has to be, it’s a part of her job description).

So I reread what I wrote and tried to narrow it down to one idea that I could easy share and that wouldn’t take an hour to read. Luckily, finding a theme in all my rambling was not too difficult. So here it is: If I have learned anything in my first year, it’s about perfection…..and how unrealistic it is. As I reread that sentence, it seems silly; it seems obvious. No duh. Nobody is perfect. BUT for a perfectionist like me, it is a difficult realization to accept. As I reflect on this past year, I have learned that I can’t always, and I rarely will, get it right the first time.

In every aspect of my life in Tanzania, I have learned that perfection is far from attainable and that no one ever expected me to be perfect, except for myself. I have imagined and dreamed about being an International Jesuit Volunteer for years, I had it all planned out; I knew exactly how it was going to happen….and I was sure it was going to be perfect. But now, my life, the way I view the world, the way I spend my time, the way I interact with people has changed so much. And for the better, I think, as I move farther and farther away from striving for constant perfection. Mistakes are bound to happen…especially when you live in a foreign country with a drastically different culture.

The first time I made chapatti (like a fried tortilla), they were incredibly salty and dry. The first time I tried to take a dala dala (public bus) home from the city by myself, I got on the one with the less direct route, which made my trip an hour longer than it needed to be and dropped me farther from our neighborhood; the first time I tried to use the verb in Swahili for “to understand” (kuelewa), I used the verb for “to be drunk” (kulewa) instead. When I made all those mistakes, I didn’t think I would ever make it here and was too afraid to ask for help for a long time. I didn’t want to look silly or incompetent by asking too many questions. But making mistakes and asking questions is how a person learns; it took me an entire year to be okay with that fact.

Nothing about my life is perfect and I am slowly but surely learning to find the beauty in that. I’m still not a master at washing clothes by hand, I am not very good runner (though I did complete my first half marathon on December 8^th!), I don’t always cook the best tasting food, I’m not the best at communicating with friends and family at home (I’m working on it!), I am not the best teacher, I am not always the most wonderful friend, I am not always pleasant to live in community with; the list goes on…but I am still doing all of those things and trying the best I can at them.

I spent my whole first year here trying to figure out how to operate, how to make this experience go smoothly. I have realized that in order to learn and give this experience my all, I will have to become comfortable with often looking like a fool or asking too many questions. The other day I was studying one of my Swahili books, and came across this proverb: “Kuuliza si ujinga” which means “To ask is not stupidity.” So, that’s what Year Two will be all about… asking questions so that I can learn and do more. I won’t do it perfectly but at least I will have tried.

Fall in Love, Stay in Love, and It Will Decide Everything...

                This past weekend we had our Re-Orientation/Dis-Orientation retreat with our Program Coordinator from JVC. The only way to describe it was: perfect….the ideas, both personal and JVC-centered, were exactly what I needed and wanted to reflect on. I have been in Tanzania long enough to finally apply the JVC values and Jesuit mission in an authentic, purposeful way. This retreat gave me an opportunity to process the last ten months, rediscover the Jesuits values that initially drew me to this program, and decide how I would challenge myself to dig deeper and push myself to grow further in the next fourteen months.

                When I was at Summer Orientation in Boston in July 2012, I was asked to write a personal mission statement....describing how I would like to be, think, and act as a Jesuit Volunteer in Tanzania. Having never been to Tanzania before and having absolutely no clue how my life here would take shape, it was pretty impossible to write or create anything practical. If we are being honest, I have not looked at that mission statement once since being in this country; in fact, I am not even entirely sure where it is or if I even still have it. Well, during the retreat we were given a chance to improve and/or rewrite our statements.

                Prior to the time we were given for that, we had an entire day of silence which, being the introvert that I am, was so wonderful. At the beginning of the silence, my program coordinator returned a letter that I had written to myself at Summer Orientation and a copy of all of my essays from the application process (written almost TWO years ago!).  Both were incredibly helpful for reflecting on how far I have come and for reminding me why I wanted to do this in the first place.

                If I had to describe the Kathleen that wrote my application essays, the adjectives naïve and idealistic would immediately come to mind. I really thought I had it all figured out…I was so sure of myself and my abilities; I thought I had the secret formula to being the perfect Jesuit Volunteer. I sugar-coated the life of a JV, thinking that because I was seemingly well-prepared for this experience, I would effortlessly find only beauty and joy in every part of this, that even the challenges would be welcomed and gracefully tackled. I thought my personal imperfections would magically be fixed or outgrown; I thought it would be possible to serve flawlessly without personal hardship or challenge. Well, needless to say, I have been far from perfect in this.

                The themes and ideas that dominated many of my essay answers have been less than prominent in my time here. My faith and my commitment to social justice (two of the four main JVC values) have taken a back seat to viewing my job as a teacher as just that, a job; I find it harder to view it as faith-centered, social justice-centered service as I thought it would. I have not asked the hard-hitting questions about the social injustices I have witnessed and I most certainly have not made God the center, or even the priority, in my time here. I had a lot of expectations for how I’d feel and act but then reality and routine set in; life can be just as boring and mundane as in any other part of the world. It’s impossible to always think about God or social justice in every single aspect of one’s life. If you looked just at my application self and compared it to where I am today, you would think we were two completely different people.

                Luckily, when I read my letter to self from Orientation, I discovered a less lofty and more realistic version of Kathleen. Somehow, on my 22^nd birthday, a year and three months ago, I knew that I would struggle to find God in the midst of the day-to-day Tanzanian life I now lead. I seemed more open-minded and had less expectations of perfection than my application self. I emphasized the importance of simple living and community (the other two JVC values) and I feel I have stayed committed to those ideas. I have not strayed as far away from myself as I believed after initially rereading my application essays. I gave myself some pretty sound advice, relevant for how I want to challenge myself mentally and emotionally in the rest of this experience: “Be present in the moment always. This is how you will learn the most and be able to give the most back. Don’t forget where you come from or what you’ve been through to get to where you are today. Ask God constantly to show you where He/She is in your life and ask to be pulled in that direction.”

                Reading through the essays and the letter helped me to create a new and more authentic mission statement for the upcoming year. I have discovered where I have faltered since beginning this process (beginning with the application) almost two years ago and I have also be affirmed in the areas I have stayed true and committed to since Day 1. My autobiography essay was centered on one of my favorite prayers from a Jesuit named Pedro Arrupe about falling in love with something. I expressed in my essay that growing up I never really had that thing that screamed “Kathleen.” But when I got to college and I went on my first international service trip, I knew that service would play a major role in the direction my life would take. I had fallen in love with service, and more specifically, service centered around the Jesuits values. So, I used this prayer again to rewrite my personal statement for Year Two (non-bolded words are from the original prayer and bolded is what I added):

Nothing is more practical than finding God in Tanzania,

that is than falling in love with this place and its people in a quite, absolutely final way.

I am in love with my students, my co-workers and friends, my neighbors, my host family, my parish, and my JVC community.

Teaching, the school magazine, simple living, spirituality, and the pastoral circle seize my imagination.

The four JVC values affect everything.

My students and moving the Jesuit mission forward get me out of the bed in the morning,

My community, my commitment to simple living, and my awareness of the importance of self-care affect how I spend my evenings.

My thirst for knowledge and understanding of Tanzanian culture should decide how I spend my weekends.

I want to read about spirituality and social justice and how they are connected.

I want to know Tanzanians and be invited into their lives and their stories. I want to know their joys and their struggles …to sit with them in those and know when that’s enough, even when it breaks my heart.

A simple “Karibu sana” from a stranger and the faith-centered, people-centered lifestyle in this place amazes me with joy and gratitude.

I have fallen in love with Tanzania,

I have stayed in love with service and the Jesuit values,

And those things together will decide everything.

                So, as I look forward to whatever unknown adventures and tribulations the next year will undoubtedly bring, I will challenge myself to remember what I have fallen in love with because that should at the center of everything I do. 

You must protect Teacha!!

“You must protect Teacha!” said Elvis to Athumani during today’s football match at sports time. 

               For reasons I still don’t fully understand, I am the head of the Personality Development and Sports Department (PDS) and I also teach the PDS to Standard 6. So, every week the 29 boys beg me to let them go outside to play football during class time. Sometimes we go, when the lesson is short and there is time in our 80 minutes together; sometimes we get caught up in really good discussions about corporal punishment or respect and time gets away from us. Well, as the boys relentlessly reminded me all day, it’s been about a month since we went outside last. Today I gave in and we spent the second half of the class outside.

                Having thought this morning that there wouldn’t be time to go out, I wore a long, straight blue skirt and my beaded flip-flops to school. Big mistake. When we got outside, I somehow stumbled onto the field and one of the 15 girls in the class called to me, “Teacha! You are a goalkeeper?!” When I looked around, I realized that I was right smack dab in the middle of the two rocks that were serving as the goal posts for one team. My initial reaction was to yell, “No way!” while running off the pitch, but I found the words, “Why not?!” spilling out of the mouth. I kicked off my sandals and mentally prepared to make a fool of myself in front of the entire Standard 6 class (the coolest class in school, by the way.)

                Luckily for me, the team I had found my way on to was really good and the ball stayed at the other end of the field for most of the game. When the ball found its way to me the first time, I felt inadequate and became nervous. Did I really just voluntarily subject myself to possibly looking like a total fool out there? Is my hand-eye coordination good enough to at least look like I knew what I was doing? And just as I was beginning to doubt myself and felt alone between those two rocks, I found students Elvis and Athumani were on either side of me, ready to defend their goal, and their teacher, against the other team. This is when Elvis looked at Athumani and said, “You must protect Teacha!” What a great moment…Elvis could have said, “Teacher, you’re not good enough,” or “Athumani, cover the goal, teacher can’t do it.” But we were a team and when I wasn’t so sure I could do it, I was reassured that my students had my back.

                It wasn’t about individual ability, but working together as a team. I wish I could say I taught them that, but I feel like that’s the way they have always viewed sports, which if really refreshing. It’s not about the individual all-star’s success, but the team that looks out for each other is the one that comes out on top. And in the next moment, with that in mind, I knew I had to give it my all, not to save face, but to play my part on the team. I put my hand out and blocked the first goal attempt from the other team! I got several thumbs up and a grin from Elvis that said, “You’re pretty good, Teacha!”

                I punted it back down to the other end and waited and waited and waited as my team tried over and over again to score. A few minutes later the ball was back in my direction, headed straight for my head but this time I felt more than confident. I don’t know what it was but today, after that first solid block, I became more comfortable on a sports field and in a competition (if you know me at all, you know I hate competition) than ever before. Mostly, I am sure, because I had some great kids on my team and knew they would make up for my lack of ability. Luckily, as the ball came barreling toward me, I put my heads up just in time and knocked it away. They tried to score again…I kicked the ball to Athumani. Another block! At that moment, Elvis turned to me again and said, “You are a good goalkeeper!” I never in a million years would use “good” and “goalkeeper” in the same sentence when describing my football abilities unless the words “at watching someone else play the…” was put in the middle.

                Five minutes later the bell rang and I received more thumbs-up and several ‘Great job!’s from my students. We won 1-0 and it was awesome. Maybe it was a small victory and something that my students won’t even remember during sports next Wednesday but I did it. I played football barefoot, in a long restricting skirt, in the heat of the day, and I held my own. I think I earned just a little bit of “street cred” with my hard to impress, incredibly talented football playing 6^th graders.

               

                

A Successful Failure

Life lesson #294: It is possible to totally succeed and utterly fail at the exact same time.

                Two and a half months ago, two of my friends/co-workers approached me about the possibility about starting a school magazine at Gonzaga. I immediately jumped on board…I love journalism and knew my students would benefit from the opportunity for self-expression that this project would create. Being involved in yearbook during high school and newspaper for a short time in college, I was feeling confident about it and had a lot of grand ideas. We quickly put together a team of the best and brightest (and secretly, some of my absolute favorite) students. Much to my joy and surprise, they all wanted to be a part of this brand new project.

                Soon after our initial meeting, we began working before school twice a week and I spoke with the head teacher to make sure that we would have access to the resources we would need….time in the computer room, the ability to scan, a camera for pictures, a flash drive for our documents, and most importantly, a way to print the magazine once it was complete. Luckily, she told me that all of those things were possible.  I was told that our deadline should be September 28^th, the day of Standard 7’s graduation. We could have a table set up for students and parents to buy a copy. It seemed manageable to me…that gave us just over two months to complete it. Things were panning out smoothly.

                After our meeting, I told my students to start working on what they wanted to write. Each one, with little guidance from me and the other teachers, took it upon themselves to set up interviews with the headmistress, academic deans, various students, and members of the supporting staff. They wrote interview questions, took pictures, and collected drawings and stories from their classmates. One particular student in Standard 5 took initiative and appointed herself as Magazine Photographer. Things were coming together quickly…by the middle of August, their interviews were done and I had created a simple template to begin piecing our content together.  I was feeling confident.

                At the beginning of September, we had a 2 week break from school and I was traveling to Dodoma and Arusha with my community mates. This meant we would lose two weeks of work time; when I left for Dodoma on the 15^th I was not entirely sure we would finish, since we would not be back in school until the 23^rd…five days before the proposed deadline. Let’s just say, that of the 30+ hours I spent on three different buses during that two weeks, at least half of that time was spent scheming various ways to ensure we completed this awesome project, which was gaining a lot of enthusiasm and interest from all kinds of students.

                So, I returned to work on the 23^rd and hit the ground running with the final stages of design, layout, and proof-reading. Every spare minute I had was spent on the computer ensuring that everything was ready. Unfortunately during most of this final week, we were also all very busy preparing other important elements for Saturday’s graduation. I was feeling the pressure…and the disappointment that would follow if the magazine wasn’t ready on time.

                On Wednesday, I told the head teacher we were ready to print and to follow her lead on making that happen. Well, as it often happens, there wasn’t actually a plan for how to execute this important aspect of the process. We did not have the resources to do the printing ourselves. Not knowing where we could outsource on such short notice, I called one of the Jesuit brothers at the high school to see if they could help. He suggested I speak with someone there who was in charge of printing services. So, I went, during the school day when I should have been teaching, to see if she could help. She could help….but not that day. I was to come back the next day…two days before our launch date.

                Thursday morning came quickly and I found myself in the same office I was in the afternoon before….but what I couldn’t find was the woman who was supposed to help me. She was at a funeral. Luckily, the other people in her office were more than helpful and I got 25 copies printed. When we started this project two months ago, I was originally hoping to have several hundred copies so that it would be available to students. But then I was told that it was out of our budget….something I wish had been conveyed to me two months ago. I tried to take it in stride and when I left Loyola with my 25 black and white copies, I was on top of the world. It wasn’t much but we had something to show for all the hours of hard work my students put into making this happen.

                When I got back to Gonzaga, a 10-mintue walk in the scorching noonday heat, sweat running down my arms, wilting the heavy stack of paper I was carrying, I was immediately met with….how should I say, dissatisfaction and criticism. “Why are the pictures in black and white? This isn’t good, we can’t give this to the students.” Bam! I was instantly knocked off the top of the world. Everyone wanted to look, everyone had an opinion, and I began to feel disappointed in myself. I tried and did the best I could with my limited resources and skill set. I don’t know the first thing about getting colored copies printed in bulk in this country. I was told that we shouldn’t have it at graduation; that it was better to wait until we could make colored copies. I was defeated. I was upset that my students wouldn’t be able to see the fruits of their labor after I had promised them we would be ready.

                Fortunately, by the end of the day on Friday we had a plan. We printed just three colored copies, two for the Guest of Honor of the graduation and one for the Accounts Manager of Gonzaga (the same Jesuit brother who helped me get them printed at Loyola). One of the other magazine moderators had the idea that we could have the guest of honor auction off one of his two copies as a fundraiser for our project. We would also tell the parents and other guests that they could make a small contribution for one of the black and white copies; they would later receive colored copies once we had the funds to print them.

                So, Saturday came and the wonderful graduation celebration began. After the Guest of Honor’s speech, we presented him with his copy, officially launching the first ever school magazine. When it was explained that we hoped he would auction off one copy, he promptly pulled out 10,000 Tanzanian shillings (about 6 USD) and bought it for his wife. Then, the hired professional MC quickly turned the whole thing into a fundraiser….he promptly began asking for contributions for the lesser-quality black and white copies. One person came forward pledging 5,000 TZA sh., the smallest recommended contribution amount. Then another person…”elfu kumi” (10,000). Then another…”elfu kumi;” and another…”elfu hamsini”…50,000 shillings!!!!!! And the people just kept coming…by the end, we had less than 5 copies left and we had raised over 360,000 Tanzanian shillings (about 220 USD).  All of the work and unfortunate mishaps paid off….at the end of the day, it was a success.

                 

                Life lesson 294: It is possible to totally succeed and utterly fail at the exact same time. So the magazine wasn’t exactly how we imagined it would be two and a half months ago. The launch didn’t go as smoothly as we hoped it would. BUT we did have something to show for our two months of slaving over the computer screen and now we have a great starting point for funding the future of this project. Our initial failure of not having colored copies somehow managed to create a superbly successful fundraiser! And more than that, to know that parents and other supporters of Gonzaga believe in this project is a success in and of itself.

                

Machine Wash Cold, Tumble Dry Low

A few weeks ago, I observed another teacher’s lesson at school. It was with Standard 6, a class I also teach and have been kind of struggling to connect with in recent weeks (I am much better with the younger classes who see my silliness and energy as fun and exciting, not weird and uncool). I observed this lesson for a couple of reasons: I wanted to see how differently (if at all) the students behaved for him, to see his teaching style, and secretly because I knew that if I was there, he would be less likely to use corporal punishment as a classroom management strategy because he knows I do not like it.

Anyway, it was a great class. I enjoyed watching the teacher interact with students and engage them in a different way than I do. And, of course, as I suspected, they did not get out of their seats nearly as much as in my class, they answered more of his questions, and talked a lot less while he was writing notes on the board…but there was a little bit of that every once in a while. So, while he had a bit more control over the class, I realized that he doesn't have it all down perfectly either. Overall, it was a very positive experience and I am glad that I went to see how teaching is done by a Tanzanian.

But something else more interesting happened while I was in the class. It was a conversation he and I had while the students did independent work from the textbook. We were looking outside at the dark heavy clouds and impending rain, when I absent-mindedly said, “Pray that it doesn't rain, I have laundry on the line at home.” Of course, he began reprimanding me for not doing it on the weekend when I could supervise it. He then suggested I call someone at home to take it down, which obviously isn't possible because we all work…to which my friend’s reply was simply, “oh, sorry.”

Then I began explaining the concept and convenience of a washing machine and dryer. Let’s just say he was impressed by the idea. “What do you mean you don’t have to supervise it? How does the water get in and know when to stop filling or when to drain the water? What do you do when the first machine finishes? How big is it?”…all legitimate questions if you’ve never heard of or seen one before. But I never thought I would explain the workings of an appliance which was so second nature to me and taken for granted for the first 22 years of my life to a grown, educated man. I hope to all goodness I NEVER complain about doing laundry when I return to America, it really is easy and convenient….

…that’s another thing that struck me about our conversation, he response after I explained how convenient it is was, “Oh wow, life in America is easy. I want that.” And it’s true. While yes, there are many real struggles and life in America is not always perfect, it certainly is very different. And after living in both worlds, I have come to believe that the day-to-day is a bit easier back home. People in other parts of the world have already figured out solutions to a lot of issues Tanzanians still face, America is proof of that. Of course, having to do laundry by hand may not seem like one of the biggest problems a person could have, but it really affects a lot of other parts of life. The 2 or 3 hours it may take the caregiver of a large family to do laundry could be utilized at a wage-earning job or in school. And that, I think, is the key to impactful change in developing countries…a steady paying job and an education.

So why do these problems still exist? Why are there still developing countries in the world? My friend’s answer when I asked him about it was: “Government.” The powerful leaders and leaders of many developing countries tend only to care for their own gain and socioeconomic status. That infuriates me and my co-worker.

But just as I was starting to feel defeated and sad, I pointed to all the wonderfully amazing students that we have the privilege of teaching and said, “But these are the bright young people who will change it all,” to which he simply replied, “Yes, I think you’re right.” 

Other Small Updates

1. I held a baby duck a few weeks ago…Tanzania is working wonders for my fear of birds!

2. The Provincial for the Jesuits of Eastern Africa, Agbonkhianmeghe Orobator SJ, had tea at our house. Let’s just say he’s one of the coolest people ever.

3. There was an ordination of two young men at our parish in Luhanga, the first Jesuit ordination in Dar es Salaam!

4. I am involved in starting a school newspaper at Gonzaga (God willing, anyway). I am so excited to put my love for journalism and writing to good use!

5. On July 31^st, we celebrated the Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola at the secondary school, aptly named Loyola.

And the Birthday Joy Continues...

So, this is what happens when you live with two very talented and creative musicians....you get original songs written and sung for you on your birthday. Let us just say I live in the best community ever!

Light the World on Fire 

by Cait the Great and Badass Beth

Welcome to the wilderness, this broken land,

Overrun with hungry mouths and outstretched hands,

Beneath the weight of it the Earth below you groans,

So do all the people who call this wreckage home.

                And even you have your burdens to bear

                But it’s hard to breathe with the smoke in the air

                Way out here one needs a heart of steel.

                Only the strong survive and make wounds heal

Chorus: Take a torch, bear the flame,

Though the winds around you curl,

Have heart and be brave,

Go forth and light the world on fire

Rap: Back track to the fact of the matter, enough of this chatter

She got them abs flatter than open 18 day old Sparletta*

But I don’t mean to dwell on appearances, to spit about physicality,

She’s going to break you, shake you, with her fiery personality

                “Teacha teacha Lina!” yeah we so proud to see ya

                Playing Jenga, the blocks fall down but you never going to crumble with this girl

                In town, that’s sound construction, hitting those junctions, cooking up lunch

And I’mma tell you what badass means

Everyday it’s the same old rice and beans

Washing clothes by hand to get your t-shirts clean

But now that’s normal shit, my home girl’s fine with it

Suckin’ on a mango pit, squeezing life outta this experience.

                She gonna whirl you around and run this town

                Babies crying, “teacha he beat me!” yeah she’ll always calm them down

                Her heart’s bigger than a buffalo heard

                Don’t flip her the bird, kitten’s mittens the word

Just hold up your paws and rock between the walls

You ain’t never gonna fall when you have her number to call

So as you grow up, up, up, to whatever you aspire

You gonna light this wo-wo-wo-world on fire

Chorus: Take a torch, bear the flame,

Though the winds around you curl,

Have heart and be brave,

Go forth and light the world on fire

The Best Birthday!

Nobody likes to go to school on their birthday, right? WRONG!  Being the nerd that I am, my whole life I have wanted to spend my birthday at school with my friends, passing out cake, juice, and goodie bags but having a summer birthday denied me that bliss my whole life…until now. Because of the year round school system in Tanzania, I was blessed enough to be at school with the most loving and generous children I know. Even yesterday, students were already excited for my birthday today, reminding me every chance they got, because of course now that I am 23 and old in their minds, I would have forgotten my own birthday.

My whole life I have also always wanted a surprise party but never got it….until now. I spent the morning before the first bell sitting at my desk concentrated on writing lessons plans for tomorrow, all the while not knowing that my first class (English Standard 3A), was hard at work in their classroom writing birthday wishes and drawing cakes  on the blackboard. When I got to the class, the door was closed, which confused me because it is never closed. When I opened the door, every student jumped up out of their desk and Godfrey (a favorite student of mine) flicked on the lights and they yelled “SURPRISE!” in unison. They immediately began singing “Happy Birthday” and beaming at me with their perfect little smiles. It has absolutely been the best birthday I could ever ask for. I handed out stickers and chocolate (and extra stickers to my Muslim students who are fasting for Ramadan) and read them “Barbar and the Wully-Wully,” one of my favorite books from when I was their age.

And just when I thought that would be it, I was wrong! At the end of the day, I was finishing up a meeting and preparing to go home when a student in Standard 4 ran up to me exclaiming, “Teacher! Teacher! Teacher Bethany is calling you!” So together, we ran down to the classroom where Beth was orchestrating something with her Dance Club students. Suddenly they all started clapping and stomping in rhythm and started singing “Happy Birthday Teacher Leena! Congratulations!” It was the greatest end to the most perfect birthday ever...who said that going to school on your birthday is not fun? 'Cause it was the best!

Karibu tena, Barack Obama!

On July 1^st, the President of the United States visited the United Republic of Tanzania. As cool as it is to say that I was in Tanzania when my homeboy Barack made his first appearance here, I can’t help but also be a little skeptical of some things I noticed surrounding the hype of his visit. I have spoken with a few Tanzanians about their opinion on the matter and the responses varied. On a very surface level, for the days leading up to his arrival, random people, upon seeing us white girls, would call out to me and my community mates saying, “Obama atakuja! (Obama is coming!)” They did not say it callously, they were simply stating a fact and seemed excited for us.

A good friend of mine who is Tanzanian described Obama as ‘a simple, yet strong, man’. And that is a president I can be proud of (not to mention the picture I saw in the newspaper of him dancing to traditional music with a smile on his face upon his arrival at the airport. Gotta love a guy who can dance without shame). I am glad to know that our president is seen in a positive light in other parts of the world. People in Tanzania generally love Obama. But there are larger issues here surrounding his visit than simply his personal character. Some people speculate that his visit was intended to ensure good relations between our countries because of oil that was recently discovered somewhere in Tanzania…is Obama simply covering his bases in case things get worse in the Middle East and they cut us off for good? I don’t know. Was he really here for the benefit of Tanzanians, especially in regards to power supply, something that is by no means sufficiently provided? Again, I don’t know. (It’s probably important to note here how unreliable news sources in TZA can be sometimes. And without regular access to the internet or a television, it can be difficult for me to distinguish fact from fiction through nothing but second hand accounts and explanations).

Regardless of his reasons for coming, many people were more concerned and infuriated with how the Tanzanian government prepared for the POTUS’s visit.  Let’s just say that no one has seen the city or the streets that clean probably, well, EVER. Sidewalks were installed; main roads were repaired and cleaned of all debris. Every light post was adorned with a brand new American flag, Tanzanian flag, a giant poster of a smiling Obama, and the words “Karibu tena, Barack Obama! (President Barack Obama, Welcome again to Tanzania!)” They even changed the name of an existing road from Ocean Road to Obama Road. The issue here is that if the government can get their act together and clean the city for Obama’s two day visit, why can’t they do it every day for the people who live here?! I received a text from my friend on the eve of Barack’s arrival which read, “I am so happy your President is coming because the city is so clean!...for now at least.” One of the main roads that was used by Obama is usually lined on both sides by vendors selling everything from vegetables to plumbing parts. BUT in preparation for Mr. President, the police came in the morning to warn all the vendors that they had until the evening to pack up their businesses, their livelihoods, and disappear from the area completely, at least until after Obama departed the country. Those individuals who did not comply were forced out…their goods taken by the police and loaded into a truck, not to be returned or seen again. All this simply so Obama would not see the crowds of people selling things on the street. My question then is, “Did Obama see the real Tanzania?” From my limited knowledge and secondhand stories, I think I could say the answer is “probably not.”

When Obama was visiting the power plant about two miles from my house, I wish he had driven there via the road I live on, then he would have seen the real Tanzania. I realize he is a busy man, running the free world is probably pretty time consuming, but I don’t think he was here long enough to fully understand the reality of this place. As I sat in my living room on the morning of July 2^nd, listening to the police helicopters and what I assumed was Air Force One take off, I couldn’t help but wonder to myself, “What did Obama really witness in the short 36 hours he was here?”

I hope Obama takes those banners displaying “Karibu tena (welcome again)” to heart and will return again and again to learn more about this place I have come to love and call home. 

A Ride to Remember

The best way I know how to describe the experience of riding a dala dala, the public bus, is the well-known phrase “packed in like a can of sardines.” I’ve heard that phrase a number of times and can now safely say I really know what it feels like to be crammed into a space too small for even a few tiny fish. My first few times on a dala dala I felt like Bambi still trying to find her legs but I like to think that now I am pretty skilled at it; I can distinguish the various stops the konda (conductor) calls every few minutes which used to sound more like ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ than anything during my first months in country, I can look out the window and identify the various stops before the konda even calls them, I know that when he jingles a fistful of gold coins in my direction he is asking for the 400 shilling fare, I can determine with one quick glance which dalas are truly packed to the gills and which ones I may be able to squeeze myself onto without risk of falling out as it races over bumps and around cars, and most importantly, I know how to arrange myself in such a way that allows at least five more people to squeeze onto the already over packed dala. After all of the twisting and turning and holding myself up in less than comfortable positions I have done in the last six months, I think  I may have a promising career as a contortionist one day. 

Some days it is easy to get on a dala and be comfortable, maybe even find a seat in the first ten minutes of the ride but today that was not the case. Today I truly felt like I was a part of a school of fish crowded into a metal box without any room to breathe. Most days I am not carrying anything, except for maybe a shoulder bag which really isn’t a burden. But today, I happened to be coming back from doing a bit of food shopping for my community. So now, not only was I on the most crowded bus ever but I was also down a hand usually used for bracing myself. I was carrying a grocery bag that must have weighed at least 4 pounds. Maybe that doesn’t seem like a lot but when you are being jostled to and fro on a fast moving vehicle inches from the open door, I might as well have been carrying a 50 pound anvil. For the first few minutes of the journey, I was about five inches away from the edge of the step off the dala, the only thing separating me from the fast moving concrete under us….one swerve too many and I would be rolling in the street as the dala dala continued to zoom away. Luckily, as I was beginning to think I couldn’t hold on any longer, we reached the most popular stop along our route, Ubungo, where the coach bus station is located. Many of my fellow riders got off here and I was able to move into the aisle, a more stable spot to stand and much further away from the open door. With each stop we made, more people got off and I slowly got pushed back even further in the aisle. I breathed a sigh of relief, telling myself I was going to make it home in one piece after all. Then, as it happens at least once a day, I got my dose of Tanzanian generosity.  As I tried to keep holding on with only one hand, a trick I am still trying to master, a Tanzanian woman not much older than myself tapped me on the arm. When I looked down at her, she simply offered her lap as a safe haven for the bag I was desperately clinging to as the circulation drained from my fingers. Breathing an even deeper sigh of relief, I handed my bag to the kind woman, and grabbed the bar above my head with both hands this time; from that point forward, the ride was a piece of cake until we reached my stop. I took my bag, thanked the generous woman for her help, and pushed and shoved my way off the dala in the same fashion as when I boarded it.

As I reflect on today’s journey, I realize what an appropriate metaphor it is for this experience. In the beginning, I was unsure I could do it; I feared not being able to hold on, that I would never truly be comfortable in the situation, and was sure I would fall within the first few minutes. But as time passed and I become accustomed to my new surroundings, I began to breathe more easily. By the end, I was confident and knew that it was all going to work out just fine, with a little bit of help from a few nice people along the way. So, as I dive deeper into this adventure (and practice riding dala dalas one handedly), I will remember today’s dala dala ride fondly, reminding myself that if I just hold on the best I can, I will make it out on the other side in one piece, a stronger version of myself.

Joy for the Journey. Love for the Lasting

How does one express all of the heart-filling and heartbreaking, joyous and somber, exciting and mundane, faith-filled and Godless moments into one blog, let alone, into words at all? I don’t know if it is possible. There have been numerous moments of bliss, sadness, frustration, wonder, homesickness, actual sickness, love, dislike, justice, and injustice during my first six months in Tanzania. It’s difficult, nay impossible, to remember every single person and experience I have been blessed enough to encounter thus far. But I am certain there is one day that will stick in my mind forever, a day filled with immense joy and unconditional love that is hard to describe simply using words, but I will try my best.

On June 8^th, we celebrated the end of the first term of school before our winter holiday (yes, winter is in June!) with a celebration called Gonzaga Day. The central purpose of the day was to remember the patron saint of our school, Saint Aloysius Gonzaga. I arrived at school bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for the excitement and laughter I knew the day would bring, but also slightly nervous as my Standard 3 classes and English Club had not practiced quite as much as I was hoping we would. We began the day with a thoughtful mass said by the Jesuit chaplain at the high school, Father Joe. Being the enthusiastic and relatable speaker that he is, he was easily able to encourage the students to continue to stretch their minds and their hearts, because if they do so, they will go far in life (It was a good reminder for myself, too).

Upon returning to school after a short walk from the local parish church, we had milk tea and bread, which is a treat compared to the porridge the students drink every day (personally, I prefer the porridge but some students don’t really care for it). After a very relaxed tea time complete with students running and playing all over the school grounds, we began the performances. It started with the parade from our scouts and some performances by the lower classes (Pre-Standard 1 to Standard 2), including a fashion show and some wonderful songs. During this time, I was running around like crazy trying to round up my Standard 3 students for their first performance as members of the Upper Classes. I managed, with the help of one of another teacher, to round up (almost) all of our students and line them up just in time for the MC to announce our entrance. My students marched right out into the performance area and sang “This Little Light of Mine” with more gusto and confidence than I could hope for. The hand motions and dancing were subpar through no fault of their own, however, because I was the one who choreographed them. Regardless, I am incredibly proud of them and realize more and more everyday how heartbreaking it will be to leave them at the end of next year…but let’s not get ahead of ourselves!

After a few more wonderful performances including dance club performing to the likes of Lady Gaga and Beyonce’s Telephone, Standard 4B’s skit about the life of Saint Gonzaga, a retelling of St. Gonzaga’s life given in impeccable Kiswahili by Standard 6, and a few more songs and dances, it was time for English club…the last student performance of the day. Let’s just say I was anxious. I spent the whole morning running around getting the other performances ready and simultaneously trying to enjoy this fun day with students, all the while knowing in the back of my mind that I wasn’t sure how well English Club would do after the little practice we had time for in the weeks leading up to this big day (which, by the way, was absolutely my own fault). But then, there they were, in the performance area after dancing out to the tune of a Tanzanian favorite, “Under the Coconut Tree.” I stood back and watched, praying they would remember their lines and remember to face the audience. They quickly situated themselves and Jackline of Standard 5 grabbed the microphone with a world of confidence and began: “Once upon a time…”

Before I knew what was happening, I was whisked away into their magical world, watching as my students transformed before my eyes….was that Theresia flawlessly delivering her line and 7 of my other favorite students singing “High-ho, high-ho, it’s off to work we go” in perfect unison? No, that was Snow White and the 7 dwarfs I was watching. By the time Prince Charming came to save Snow White so they could live happily ever after, I had the most enormous smile on my face; to say that I was beaming is an understatement. They did it; my students cooperated so wonderfully and gave the best performance of Snow White and the 7 Dwarfs I could have asked for. I knew in my heart that they did incredibly well, but to have other teachers congratulate me and tell me how much they liked it, only added to my joy.

After a delectable lunch of pilau and chicken, it was time for the teacher’s dance. We practiced every day after lunch for about 2 weeks learning the moves Beth, the 2^nd year JV, put together for us. All I can say was that it was a huge hit! The students went wild after we finished our performance.

Then it happened, the moment when I realized that all the hard work, time, and sacrifice that went into becoming a JV was more than worth it… Gonzaga Day ended with a big dance party. Students, teachers, staff, guests, and anyone else that was there started dancing together. So there I was, all of the stress and nerves of the day washed away, surrounded by hundreds of tiny students mimicking my horrendous dance moves, smiling from ear-to-ear, when I realized that this moment is exactly why I came to Tanzania. There was absolutely nowhere else in the world I would have rather been in that moment. I love being a teacher, I love children, I love learning about new cultures…and all of these things certainly make my life much more fruitful but the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced is being surrounded by boundless, unconditional love. Nothing else is the world was as important as the sense of community and belonging we all felt in that moment. I was literally in a sea of uninhibited joy. There are no words to describe how full my heart feels just thinking about it. This experience is no longer long-term service but my life…and these children are no longer students that I must teach noun/verb agreement to but uniquely special individuals that I have genuine connections with. The entire Gonzaga Day, and more specifically, that moment of clarity, has made this entire journey worth it. And though it will be hard to top last Saturday, I still have a year and a half and another Gonzaga Day to try...but I just don’t know how it gets better than that.

Snow White and the 7 Dwarfs

Scranton Family

We had an unexpected day off from school today (written May 22nd) . Standard 7 is taking the Regional Mock Examinations today and tomorrow. Because of this, the other classes have been asked to stay home so that the school will be quiet and Class 7 will be able to concentrate and perform well. Being in the routine that I am, I still woke up naturally around 5:30 in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. I have nothing to do today and I have been thinking a lot about home and Scranton as my friends get ready to graduate and I hit the one year mark since my own commencement. So, I decided to turn on my computer and look through pictures from college. What a wonderful and horrible idea. Horrible because I am sorely missing my Scranton family and all of the incredible memories I made in the Electric City. But also wonderful because flipping through the years in pictures has helped me recognize how much I grew up in college, how much I have changed for the better, and how all of those experiences and people have shaped me into the person I am today…the teacher in Tanzania, a dream fulfilled.

It’s amazing how much a person can change in four years. I think a lot about the first two years of college as a means of exploring...I was trying to find the right friends, get involved in the right activities, take the right classes, and plan the right future. And it took a long time for me to find those things. Sometimes I regret the first couple of years of college; I feel like I wasted my time, I’m not the most proud of that person.

But during the second half of my time in Scranton, I easily fell into the right group of people, the right activities, and was on the right path to the bright future I wanted for myself. I found the friends that I hope to have for a lifetime; they are more than friends, they are, as I often refer to them as, my Scranton family. Maybe it took me a few years to find them, but what’s important is that I have them now…now that the ‘easy’ college lives we led together are over, they are still there for me and have never stopped loving me. Sometimes I’m sad that I decided to come all the way to Tanzania and leave behind what would have been two great years in my early 20s with my best friends, just being the American young adults that we are. I know I am missing out on some great memories and adventures but I also know that everyone will still be down for some good times when I return in 2014.

Anyway, I guess what I am trying to say is, thank you. Thank you to my best friends for supporting me in my desire to live this counter-cultural life in Tanzania, for cheering me on as I dive deeper into this experience, and for continuing to be there for me from five, six, seven time zones and eight, nine, ten thousand miles away. It means the world and I know that I would not have come this far if it weren’t for everything they taught me and encouraged me to do during our time together in that small city in Northeastern PA.

We really were a part of something incredibly beautiful and incredibly unique in Scranton, but the best part is, that even a year later, the beauty continues…only now its spread all over the world instead of just one small part of Pennsylvania.

So, this is life.

I am just over four months into my experience here and I thought I would have had more blogs written by now. In the beginning, everything was new, exciting, and worth writing about; now those things that I deemed so different and interesting are just facts of life. Most things have just become a part of the natural routine….washing clothes by hand and taking bucket showers, for example, are totally normal and I barely remember those things ever being different. Life is life and people are people no matter where you go. Granted there are many culture differences that influence daily life but at the end of the day everyone just wants to be happy and healthy and most importantly, surrounded by loving and supporting people.

I love the culture of community here. Regardless of the other larger issues of injustice that are more prevalent here than in the States, there is this unspoken rule that Tanzanians take care of each other and you are welcomed wherever you go, no matter who you are. Often times while walking to school and around the neighborhood, people I barely know (or don’t know at all) welcome me to visit with them in their home or share a meal…even though I’m a stranger and not only a stranger but also clearly not from this country. It’s incredibly humbling to be accepted, for the most part, for no reason at all. If Tanzania has nothing else going for it, they at least have a tight knit community of people looking out for each other 24/7 and that alone is enough to make someone’s (or at least my) day.

One thing worth noting, though, is the religion class I had yesterday with my Standard 6 students. It wasn’t incredible riveting or creative but I was able to teach them something I know they did not know before (how do I know? I asked them). I taught them about St. Ignatius and the Society of Jesus. They all knew what a Jesuit was since our school is named after a Jesuit saint and the Jesuit priests here helped found the school. But outside of that, their knowledge of Ignatius or Jesuit ideas is pretty minimal. I began with a little bit of history on Ignatius and gave a dramatic retelling of his time as a soldier and his recovery, during which he found his faith. I think they enjoyed the story…it was silent and all eyes were on me as I explained. I think in a way it made spirituality more human; Ignatius wasn’t perfect, in fact, he was a bit of a hothead for most of his life. There’s comfort in knowing that even saints aren’t perfect people.

Then, I went out on a limb and tried to pray The Examen with them. I explained its steps, its purpose and how it is used. Then I asked them to close their eyes and tried to lead them through it. They were quiet during the whole thing and I like to think that it went well. But I guess I will never know if they really got anything out of it. For some of them, it may have just been a much needed 15 minute nap after along week at school. But that is more than okay with me, I’m pretty sure it was a Jesuit who said that sometimes God comes to us in our sleep….so that’s what I’m going to tell myself about the handful who were pretty much drooling on their desks. After we finished The Examen, one girl asked me, “Does God hear what is in our hearts even if we don’t speak it out loud?” And I said, “Of course!” The Examen is a perfect example of that inner reflection that can happen with God. I was surprised by the question because for me prayer has always been an internal thing (outside of Mass, of course). But I guess sometimes the only way people are taught how to pray is by reciting out loud the formal prayers that have been given to us by those who taught us about our faith/spirituality. I’m really glad she asked this question though; it assured me that at least one of my 40 sleepy students was at least thinking about praying. That is enough for me. Even if no one else prayed or got anything out of that 15 minutes, I have at least one students who knows that God it always listening. And that was good reminder for me as well…God is always listening, even when I feel like I’m talking to no one.

 

Chickens and Babies: My Least and Most Favorite Things All in One Day!

Last Monday began the End of the Quarter/Easter break for Gonzaga Primary School. However, being a teacher for Standard 4, I had to go in and teach two hours each morning, Monday through Wednesday. On Monday after school, my co-worker and community mate, Beth, and I went into Dar es Salaam to mail some letters. From there, we hopped on a dala dala (public bus) to Mbezi, which is about an hour and 15 minutes from Dar, to visit a friend Beth made a few months ago named Suzy. I had never been out this way before and it was a fun adventure to see a new part of the area surrounding Dar.

When we got off the dala dala, we took two piki pikis (motorcycles) through a very windy valley of steeps hill and muddy roads. My piki piki driver could not have been more than 25 years old and spoke English pretty well. I challenged myself to speak to him in Kiswahili instead of reverting to my easier mode of English. So, with his knowledge of Kiswahili and a little bit of English, and the vice versa for me, we had a great conversation during the drive in what I like to call “Kiswahi-nglish” (kind of like Spanglish but with Kiswahili). I told him we were teachers living in Mabibo, that I was from America, and we discussed some differences between Tanzania and the States. It was a lot of fun to practice my Kiswahili and ride through this beautiful place in the mountains. There are no mountains in Mabibo and the piki piki driver laughed when I told him I liked this area where we were because it was green...unlike Mabibo which is just dirt, asphalt roads, and cement houses. Our simple, yet friendly conversation also eased my worries of zipping down hills, through mud puddles, and back up steep, steep gravel roads at a pretty fast speed (sorry, Mom).

Finally we arrived in Suzy’s village. It was quiet, nestled among the hills and valleys, very green, and full of welcoming people. Suzy greeted us just as we arrived and we walked together to her home. We sat for a while and talked about school and various other things; then after some time she asked if we wanted to visit her “mama kubwa,” which means “big mother”; in other words, her mother’s older sister. She explained that her aunt just had a baby, so obviously I was all about going to visit. I love babies! (Probably more than most things). So, we walked up a very steep gravel road and across the ridge of this beautiful mountain that overlooked several more valleys and hills sprinkled with homes and a primary school that was bustling with the sounds of children learning. It had just rained and the grey clouds were moving away from us, making room for the clean white ones and a clear blue sky. It was really beautiful and my words will never do it justice (and neither will my camera…mostly because I forgot to take it with me that day).

So, we arrived at mama kubwa’s small house, which was honestly just a single room with a bed and enough room at the foot of it to sit on a stool and cook over a small fire. On the bed, sleeping soundly under a mosquito net was the smallest baby I’ve seen since I came to Tanzania. He could not have been more than a few months old. Suzy, Beth, and I all sat on the bed and passed the peacefully slumbering baby between us. I love holding babies…until I remember how heavy they get in one’s arms after a while!

After some time, we walked back to Suzy’s house and along the way she bought Beth and I both a soda. I am telling you, Tanzanian hospitality never fails. I continue to be amazed and humbled by their generosity, patience, and kindness on a daily basis. Back at Suzy’s we ate lunch and spent some more time simply sitting together. We spoke about birthdays, teaching, living in Tanzania, going to the beach, and many other things. Then, out of nowhere, the generosity continued! Suzy gave Beth and me both a new madela (a type of dress) as a gift, simply because she wanted to do. We hadn’t done anything in the least to deserve it and it was humbling.

Then, we went to visit Suzy’s sister, who owns a duka la dawa (store of medicine) just at the bottom of the hill where Suzy lives. When we arrived, Suzy’s sister was making envelopes out of plain white computer paper which will be used to store and distribute the various medications she has in her shop. Beth and I offered to help and spent about an hour making these envelopes, using a flour and water mixture to paste them together. Suzy’s sister knew a good amount of English and had many questions about visiting and working in America. Suzy and her sister were both patient with our Kiswahili and I learned many new words from them. Including “kuogopa,” which means “to be afraid.” If you haven’t guessed already, this is where the chickens come in! We were sitting outside on the ground and a bunch of chickens, and a GIGANTIC turkey, got really, really close to me. Well, if you know me at all, you know I don’t react well to being in close proximity to birds of any kind. They began to laugh and asked me if I was afraid. “Ndiyo, sana!” was my response (“Yes, very!). Looking back on it now, I probably looked ridiculous but we all had a good laugh.

After an hour of envelope making, Beth and I said our goodbyes. We got in a bajaji (a small cart like means of transportation powered by a motorcycle) and completed the trifecta of Tanzania transportation…dala dala, piki piki, and vijaji. We rode back to the main road and rode a dala dala back to our brown, flat, concrete but lovable neighborhood of Mabibo.

 It was a great day… in spite of the chickens and especially because of the baby! Chickens and babies, that’s what we have in Tanzania…chickens and babies.

Feelin' the Love

So, it’s finally happened…I finally feel like I live in Tanzania. Last night, my host family had a celebration for their nephew who graduated. I have been to a few celebrations in my time here but this is the first time it felt like I was celebrating with family.

All celebrations, regardless of what is being celebrated….graduation, wedding, first communion, etc…follow the same basic format. It usually begins with the entrance of the person (or people) being celebrated and then there are introductions of the most important guests at the party, usually the family members of the one being celebrated. There are speeches from family and friends, the shaking of the champagne and cheers using said champagne, and the feeding of cake to important guests at the party. And of course, in between each of these parts, there is lots and lots of dancing, usually around and around in a circle. There is often always entertainment as well; last night, the entertainment was my young host sister (she’s probably 10 or 11, if I had to guess) and her friend dancing to a popular Tanzanian song. I wish I had half the moves they have! Tanzanians just know how to dance so well; they got rhythm….Gershwin would love them.

I have to talk about being fed cake...it has been on my bucket list since I came to this country to be fed cake at a celebration and now I can check it off! Usually at large parties, not everyone gets the opportunity to be fed cake but because last night was a smaller party, everyone was able to be fed. My other host sister, who is 18, helped cut the cake into small squares. Then the graduate we were celebrating had the job of feeding each person their small square using a toothpick. Cake and the act of feeding it to the guests is a huge part of this culture. All major celebrations have a cake; it’s a big deal. And I don’t mind that one bit!

After all of the planned parts of the celebration, there was, of course, more dancing. I like to dance but by Tanzanian standards I’m not very good! Haha. There is one popular dance here that is much like the line dance we do in the States. So, I figured, “hey, this can’t be too hard. I already know the basic sequence of these steps.” Well, here’s the thing, in this country they step on the first and third beat, instead of the second and fourth, like we are used to at home. I must have looked like a fool. But Tanzanians don’t care if you can’t do it; they are just happy when you try. It is a great feeling and makes trying new things in this context a lot easier. It was so much fun; I really think last night was the best experience I have had so far in this country.

If you told me when I was staying with my host family in December that three months later I would be dancing in their dining room and have my first cake feeding experience there, I probably would have said, “yeah right.” But the thing is, once you’re a part of a community here, you’re a part of it forever, or at least that’s the impression I get. Mama calls all of the Jesuit Volunteers her children and she really does love and care for us as if we were her own. It’s an incredibly humbling feeling to have a woman you have only known for three months tell you that you are part of her family.

Not to mention, their niece is incredible. She was visiting from a place called Mwanza when I had my host stay in the beginning of December. She and I clicked really quickly for whatever reason (probably because her English is great) and I was sad when I left my home stay, thinking that I would not see her again for a while. But in January, we went over to the Nandi’s for dinner and she was the first person I saw! It was the first time I felt like someone was really genuinely happy to see me since I got here. Of course, everyone is friendly and always welcoming, but to have someone be happy that it was specifically you to walk through the door is a really amazing feeling. And the same thing happened last night; the moment we got to the house she was beaming and greeted me with much enthusiasm. Luckily, she is now staying with my host family as she begins university in Dar next month. I cannot wait to develop this friendship and spend more time with my entire Tanzanian family.

There are a lot of challenging parts of being in Tanzania, adjusting to a new culture and way of life is tough. But community and family is not something that has been lacking by any means during my time here. Last night is the most comfortable I have felt so far in this experience; it really was like I was among family. Unconditional hospitality is the norm and is highly valued. I am so incredibly thankful for this aspect of Tanzanian culture.

The Two Month Mark!

Yesterday marked two months in Tanzania! Time sure is going by quickly!

I cannot believe that I have been in school for four weeks already. I don’t even know what to say except that I am totally in love with it! I know almost all of my students’ names and even the names of some students that aren’t in my classes. I feel like a real part of this school community now.

One of the greatest things to happen since school started is that I am teaching religion to Standard 6A on Friday mornings. I was not sure I would be teaching religion and honestly wasn’t sure I wanted to. But 6A is literally the best class ever; I know I’m not supposed to have favorites but I think this class might be it. There are only about 20 students in the class (which is small; most classes are about 35) and they are all fairly outspoken. The way they view the world, God, and faith is refreshing. During our first lesson together two Fridays ago, I asked them to write down questions or topics they wanted to learn about within the realm of religion/God/faith this year. They asked questions such as:

-Is God male or female?

-Is God in Heaven or on Earth?

-Why is God so good and perfect to us?

-How do we know what Jesus looks like?

Their genuine desire to know the answers to these questions and many more like it is really awesome. I am inspired by and appreciate their desire to ask questions about the religion and faith that they have grown up with.

 In class this past Friday, we discussed the question of whether God is male or female. Not wanting to influence them with my own opinion, I allowed them to express their views on the subject, which resulted in a very mature, student-led discussion. It was the coolest thing to watch these Standard 6 students talk among themselves about God.

 And the opinions/beliefs varied greatly. Their answers included: God is male because the Bible says “He” and “Him,” we can’t know if God is male or female, God is not distinctly male or female but a spirit, and God is both male and female. Eventually I weighed in just to say that God is whoever they need Him/Her to be in their own lives so that they can live in right relationship with Him/Her; their personal belief in this case is valid and valuable. The most important thing is simply that they have some kind of relationship with God.

Besides having that awesome class with Standard 6A, here are some other highlights of my time in Tanzania:

-I went to the kitchen party (like a bridal shower) and the send-off party (like a rehearsal dinner) for my co-worker who is getting married. It was really neat to be a part of these Tanzanian celebrations (pictures to be on Facebook soon!)

-My co-worker is teaching me Kiswahili during my free periods and I am becoming much more comfortable with the language.

-I took a public bus, called a dala dala, into the heart of Dar es Salaam letters by myself to send out some letters. It was a success; I didn’t get lost! Haha

-A student drew me a picture and wrote me a letter addressed to “Teacher Leener”

-A few of my students have come on Saturdays to visit me at our home and play Jenga and read storybooks

-I introduced myself correctly at our first school PTA meeting in Kiswahili!

 

It's been a wonderful two months full of highs and lows and everything in between! I can't wait to see what the next two will bring.

Mwalimu Leena (Teacher Leena) na Gonzaga shule (and Gonzaga school)

 Naitwa Mwalimu Leena. Nafundisha dara sala sita Mzcheza, dara sala nne Computers, na dara sala tatu Kiingereza.
(I am Teacher Leena. I teach Class 6 Sports, Class 4 Computers, and Class 3 English.)

I cannot believe how fast the last two weeks have gone since school started!

January 14^th was the first day at Gonzaga for teachers and students. It began at 7:30 am with assembly, where the students line up based on grade level, starting with Pre-Standard 1 (like kindergarten) all the way up to Standard 7, and they are given important news and reminders about school. Sr. Pascaline, the head teacher, welcomed everyone back to school and had all the teachers introduce themselves. I went last and introduced myself as Leena, which I am called by most Tanzanians (at school it is Teacher Leena), and told the students what classes I would be teaching. After that, they sang a short, wonderful song which simply goes, “We are happy to receive you, welcome, we are happy to receive you welcome, we are happy to receive you, we are happy to receive you, we are happy to receive you, welcome!” It was pretty great. Then they finished assembly with a prayer and the Tanzanian National Anthem, which is absolutely beautiful and I hope to learn all the words before my two years are over.

After assembly, the students returned to their homerooms for a two hour period of learning about school rules and procedures. For now, I am not a homeroom teacher. So, on the first day, I simply sat in one of the Standard 4 homerooms and listened to the rules/procedures so that I would know them too!

At ten o’clock it was time for tea and porridge. The students are given porridge and the teachers have a choice; I took porridge on the first day and haven’t looked back since. I really, really like it! Tea break is 30 minutes long so at 10:30 am, the fourth period of the day starts. On the first day, I did not have a timetable/schedule yet for my classes so I just shadowed one of the other teachers; she teaches mathematics to Standard 5, both classes A and B.

At 12:30 pm, it was time for lunch, which was rice, beans, and cabbage. This is lunch every single day; the best part is, it’s so good, I’ll never get sick of it! After lunch, at 1:20 pm, I sat in the staff room for a while but then one of the teacher suggested I go down to Standard 3A’s classroom because there was no teacher there. I was happy for this time with them since I will be with them every day, teaching English. I spent the rest of the day with them until the final bell rang at 4:00 pm.

The next day, the 15^th, I finally had a timetable/schedule and was able to go to all my classes. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, from 7:30-8:00 am, there is morning assembly and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, students spend that first thirty minutes with their homeroom teachers. There are a total of 10 periods in a day and each one is 40 minutes long.

On Mondays I teach the first two periods; the first one with Standard 3B English and the second with Standard 3A English; in the afternoon I teach another period of English with 3A and a double period (so, 80 minutes) with Standard 4A teaching Computers.

Tuesday is similar, but instead of two lessons with 3A, I have two lessons with 3B and teach a double period of Computers to 4B, instead of 4A. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I am also in charge of English Club. It’s just what it sounds like…an hour and twenty minutes of doing fun activities based around the English language (like playing Scrabble, watching cartoon movies, putting on skits, and reading books).

On Wednesdays, I teach one lesson of English to both 3A and 3B and have two double periods of Sports, one with Standard 6A right before lunch and one with Standard 6B right after lunch. At the end of the double period with 6B, I am one of the teachers in charge of sports competition…this is basically like an hour and twenty minutes of gym class at the end of the day. We take the students outside to play football and other fun games, like Red Rover and Tag.

Thursdays and Fridays are so easy compared to the earlier days of the week…I teach one lesson each to English 3A and 3B, and, again, English Club is on Thursday. This gives me a lot of time to mark class work and homework and write lesson plans, making my weekends relaxing and easy.

That’s just a general outline of how my week at school looks and I think it’s going to work out really well. It is really wonderful to be working and be a contributing member of society again! It’s been a long wait since graduation. Being in a classroom just feels so natural; this has been a great confidence booster and has kept me feeling comfortable in this new environment. The students really are wonderful and I can tell that they are eager to learn. I am still trying to figure out which classroom management techniques work and which ones don’t in this culture/context; turns out elementary school aged children are noisy and rowdy no matter where you are in the world. J Some of the strategies I learned in college don’t really transfer to this culture but I am eager to learn some new ways to keep my students engaged and well-behaved.

So many things happened in the last two weeks that I can’t possible write it all here now. But I hope that my next blog or two will include more stories about school and my students, as I get to know them better and become more comfortable at Gonzaga. Overall, everything has been overwhelming positive and I can’t wait to see what’s next for me here!