My School

My school

So school “started on Monday, 7. January of this year.  I say “started” because we didn’t teach that first week.  The school is in the process of building a new classroom because we don’t have enough room for our new incoming class.  The students were helping the masons build, doing everything from carrying water, bags of cement, and bricks.  They also spent several days having to clean the school.  It was definitely a different use of student time here than in the US.  However, that meant that the first week there was no teaching on my part.  I planned a great deal, learned some Kisambaa from the mason, and tried to say hi to as many of my students as possible.  The second week, I was at school for 3 days (during which I hardly taught because we had meetings or students were still working and had to miss my class, which drove me crazy) before being sent to Lushoto for a conference about teaching basic English to the incoming students.

            In these pictures, you can see my students out in the schoolyard, cleaning, and what our classrooms look like.  Students are supposed to bring their own desks and chairs.  If they don’t have it, they’re supposed to stand, sit on the floor, or share with a friend.  It’s not unusual to see 3 kids sharing a single chair and desk.  They’re very good at sharing with others, as the communal culture definitely tries to support other people in the community.  We have chalkboards, but sometimes run out of chalk.  That’s the worst!  Besides that, I buy big flipchart paper (about 2ft by 4ft) and use permanent markers to write things down, like reading passages.  Those are the teaching materials I have available.  A bit different form the SmartBoard and classroom set of textbooks I had during student teaching.  Here, we don’t have enough books to let students use them, so they copy down stuff in their exercise books, which is filled with notes that they copy directly from the board, regardless of whether or not they understand it.

            There was one day that I brought some magazines that Peace Corps brought me.  I only had enough to give each of my 3 classes approximately 20 copies each.  I put the magazines on a desk and told them they could just come and get them.  The moment I left the room, I heard a wild and crazy mad rush for the books.  Chairs flying, students shoving each other, desperate for something to read.  Students crave reading or some other thing to distract themselves, as there is so little that they actually have.

            I know this is a bit of a superficial description of my school, but I’m running out of time before my bus leaves town and I wanted to get this posted before I leave internet for a few weeks.  I’ll try to be better next time I’m in town to write more blog posts.

The new classroom.  Still not finished, but it's getting there.

Some of my students stopped to let me snap a picture.  These are form 2 to form 4 students, with ages anywhere between 13 and 20.

The school yard where we have assemblies, also known as "parades."

Some students cleaning the surrounding area of the school.  They generally use pine tree branches to sweep the yard.  I personally don't understand why they have to sweep dirt, but it's what people do everywhere in Tanzania.

View from my school.  Yeah, it's awesome. 

Another view.

And again.  I love the view from my school. 

One of the classrooms.  The students were out cleaning and stuff.  There is nothing over the windows and the roof is tin (which makes it super loud when it's raining.)

Students hanging outside of the classrooms.

An inside view of one of the classrooms.  

Same room.

These are the new form 1 students.  These are all the desks in the room, cuz the students have just arrived and not all of them have brought their desks and chairs yet.

Some lollygaggers.

Gifts and Money

Gifts and Money

The word for gift in Kiswahili is “Zawadi.”  It also happens to be the name of one of my favorite kids in the village.  She’s my neighbor and has a wonderful family who calls me “Dada Amy” or “Mwalimu” (which makes me feel so wonderful to not be called “the foreigner”).  They’re definitely the people I’m closest to in the village, and I really do love to be around them.  Every time I come back from town or other travels, I bring the family some kind of gift.  This doesn’t have to be anything big.  In fact, bringing gifts back after travels is fairly common in Tanzanian culture, to the point that half the village asks me if I brought them a gift when I return.  Granted, I can’t bring back a big fancy thing for every person (I’m a PCV after all, and don’t make that much money, nor can I carry it all).  It took me a while to realize that gifts can be wildly simple things.  When I first was walking around my village and having every other person invite me into their home, many would give me a plastic bag with beans, or potatoes (which anyone who knows me isn’t surprised that I’m super excited about), or tomatoes or spinach or sugar…pretty much anything that will be used.  It’s something that I really enjoy actually.  I tend to give Mama Zawadi fruits or vegetables that I know she likes and can’t get in the village market.  For many people, I’ll give them the produce I have left right before leaving for a trip, and it helps me keep up those valuable relationships with people.  I’ve started to buy little packets of spices (cinnamon, cloves, cardamom or other chai spices), which are fairly inexpensive, light, and help add a wee bit of flavor and spice to their daily lives.

            It’s kind of refreshing that gifts don’t have to be anything big.  I mean, let’s face it, in the US, people tend to want decent sized gifts or expect them.  I’m sure there are many people who do it, but not many will give produce out and consider it a decent gift.  However, especially now with the prices of fresh vegetables in the US, if someone would give me fresh tomatoes or avocados as a present, I’d be totally stoked!  Getting food, sugar or any other thing that I know I’ll use makes sense.  It’s practical and is easier on the pocketbook of the individual if it’s something needed anyway.  Plus, the people in my village are fairly poor and they definitely could use the assistance in household things that they can barely afford to buy in the first place.

            That brings me to the point of borrowing money.  Though by American standards, I’m earning very little money (less than $200/month), I make enough to live by.  Honestly, I make more than most of the people in my village.  I’m lucky in the fact that people there don’t treat me like I have money out the wazoo (some volunteers get asked for money all the time and people think they have money to burn, even when people know them well in their villages) but I have been asked for money.  However, I count myself as incredibly lucky in my situation.

            The first time anyone in my village asked me for money, it was after I’d been there for a few months.  My favorite neighbor kid, Zawadi, came by while I was cooking after dark.  After struggling for a very long time to explain to the silly white lady what she was asking for, I finally understood that her mom sent her to ask for money.  She requested 10,000tsh (between $6-$7).  I was warned during training that Tanzanians aren’t the best about repaying money or will keep asking for money once they get it initially, so I was slightly hesitant about starting that.  I don’t want to develop a reputation as being the bank for the village.  However, I gave Zawadi the 10,000tsh after justifying it in my mind.  This is the family that has given me chai countless times, accepted me as part of the community, and obviously is very much in need of the money.  I didn’t think it could hurt.

            Honestly, I’m happy I gave them the money.  I went to say hi the next day because I was going to leave for a trip the following day.  Mama and Baba Zawadi were both there and they gave me chai and chatted with me.  Mama Zawadi suddenly left and when she came back, she was clutching a small glass.  She told me that she knows I drink a lot of water (which I do, by Tanzanian standards) and she thought I could use this glass to drink from.  Keep in mind that Tanzanians tend to use glasses for guests and very rarely to actually drink from them themselves.  They both then started emphasizing that if I need anything (water, firewood, etc), I should just ask, because they are my family.  It was incredibly touching, and something that made me realize just how wonderful the people in my village are.

            They’ve asked me for money one other time since, and it was fairly recently.  They needed 5000tsh (maybe $3.50), which I gave to them.  Baba had been very sick recently and I knew that the family was struggling financially.  The next day, Zawadi and her sister, Maisha, brought me a large pot full of tomatoes from the family farm.  Sure, the tomatoes weren’t worth that much money, but I didn’t care at all.  I know the money is going to a good place (they’re not using it for alcohol or something else wasteful) and they are people who want to somehow repay the kindness.  How could I not be ok with that?

            There are a few other people in the village I’ve given money to.  I generally only give it to mamas (women in the village) because I know that they are working their asses off to provide for their families.  One mama walked back from the market with me, and asked for money to buy sugar for chai.  Later, she came by my house with huge potatoes as a thank you.  Another will come by my house and every time she’ll ask for sugar, or that I bring her bread from town.  Yet she’s brought me firewood, HUGE avocados, onions, tomatoes….

            In general, I feel like I’m in a unique situation.  People in my area tend to reciprocate if I give them something.  It makes me feel like I’m part of the community and not being taken advantage of.  Many other volunteers aren’t that fortunate, and have people try to get as much out of them as possible.  I can’t tell you how blessed I am to be where I am, where the people are make me smile every day.  Frankly, I think those are the kinds of feelings that make Peace Corps and living abroad like this so incredible.