RPCVs

After finishing your Peace Corps service, you become an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer).  At the moment I am a simple PCV (an adorable little Peace Corps Volunteer who you all love despite my obvious lack of modesty) but that does not mean that I don't run into RPCVs or even PCVs from other countries.  Regardless of where people served or how their experiences differed or when they actually served, there is a wonderful sense of community.  It is quite extraordinary and something I have come across several times.
      For example back in December I was in Moshi for the holidays.  Moshi is close to Mount Kilimanjaro and is a base for many safari companies.  As a result, an extraordinary number of tourists are in the area. One day while in town, some friends and I went out to dinner at a little Indian place.  When one of the girls went to pay, the waitress told her that it was paid for.  This led to general confusion until the waitress pointed over at a bearded man sitting at another table.  He was with a woman and another man. The bearded man waved at us and said "I was a PCV."  We went over to talk to them and thank them for paying for our dinner (it was not an expensive place but there were eight of us total so it was a surprise and quite kind, especially since PCVs aren't exactly rolling in dough). It turns out the bearded man and woman had served in Chad before it was too dangerous too keep PCVs there.  They went to South Africa with Peace Corps then got married.  They are now in the DRC teaching at an international school and were in Tanzania as tourists.  They were super nice and reassured us that there actually are jobs and opportunities for RPCVs (a common fear for many of us when we think about reentering "the real world").  We left them but all were quite happy.  The biggest thing I remembered was them brushing off our thanks by saying "Just pay it forward when you become an RPCV."
       Before I left the U.S. I spent a lot of time with an RPCV from Cambodia.  Rebecca was hilarious and shared loads of advice for living in a third world country,such as: just because there are big snakes that doesn't mean you're going to die. (Dont you worry, Mum, it is WAY to cold in my village for snakes.  Plus Cambodia has a few more dangerous snakes than Tanzania I think and Rebecca was terrified of snakes anyway)  Besides advice, Rebecca also gave me a lightweight sleeping bag just before I left, something that has been incredibly useful, like when a house has 25 volunteers and sleep space and blankets are few.
       Back when I did my first summer of the Wyoming Conservation Corps, one of the other crew members had served in Malawi a few years before.  Mike was super patient and answered all my questions about Peace Corps and about his experiences.  Back then I knew I wanted to go to Africa (what can I say, I am soo good at setting my mind to something and making it happen) so it was freakin awesome to have an RPCV working with me all summer that I could drill.  I was annoying but Mike humored me and was someone I told right away when I got my placement.  In the spirit of "holy crap it really is a small world," one of the directors of PC Tanzania actually worked with PC Malawi when Mike was there and remembered him.
      One of the most influential RPCVs in my life is Sandy.  She served in South America but I didn't meet her until my family and I lived in Germany and Sandy taught my 9th grade P.E. class.  She did Peace Corps then Crisis Corps (where people who finish their service can extend their servuce and help in another area.  Now it is called Peace Corps Response) and has since then been hopping around the world, teaching at different international scchools.  When I returned to Germany for my college study abroad, Sandy was teaching in Tunisia in Northern Africa.  I decided I probaby would never know someone in Tunisia again, so I contacted Sandy and went to visit her in the capital Tunis.  Not only did I get to see another amazing country, but I got to hear even more stories about Peace Corps.  Sandy was super supportive and and encouraging, saying she would write me a recommendation should I need it.  She was one of the people who I made sure to tell as soon as I got my invitation to join.  I dont know if Sandy realizes how much of an influence she has had on me, but I have kinda based my life travel goals (and work goals of teaching at various international schools) around her.
       Another great RPCV is someone I met when I first got to my beautiful site.  Erza only had a few more months left of his service when I arrived, but he gave us newbies advice, introduced us to people around Lushoto, gave us stuff like books and pans when he left, and most importantly showed us the best chipsi mayai in Tanzania.  Right now he is traveling around the world on crazy adventures but he sent us Lushoto folk a care package with wonderful things like drink mixes and frosting. (PCVs are easy to please)  We miss him and happily remember him but are happy he finished his service and can now legally ride motorcycles, unlike the rest of us.
       One of the most recent examples of an RPCV passing on the kindness we all appreciate is Dan.  My lovely mum works at an assisted living/retirement home where my awesome grandpa is currently living.  Mum started a fundraiser for my school, which has contributed so much to kids who dance with excitement at getting a piece of candy and pencil.  One weekend when I went to my post office, I had a letter and package from Dan and Sheryl.  It turns out that Sheryl's family is living at the home and during a visit Dan saw a box labled "Peace Corps donations" that Mum had set up.  He then sent me a box full of supplies and a letter with a great picture of the snowy Colorado mountains.  He explained that he served in the 1960s (I left the card at home so maybe it was the 1970s, I cant remember) in the West Indies.  I was truly blown away.  Here is a man who has never met me but was giving enough to contribute to my school, just because we both are/have been involved with the same program.  I was so happy and surprised, it was the best trip to the post office yet.
       Overall I just have to say that Peace Corps has created a community that is wildly supportive of volunteers currently serving.  It is something I am proud to be a part of.  There are many more people involved with Peace Corps I am sure I didn't mention but they are still wonderful even if I am spacey and forgot.  But one conclusion I've made is that I really have to pay it forward a lot once I'm an RPCV lest kharma slap me upside the head!

More Thank You Videos from Mariam Mshangama Secondary School

One half of my form 4 class.

One half of my form 1 class.

Those New Fangled Fancy Cell Phone Things

In the U.S. and Europe, cell phone are so common, it’s actually surprising to find someone who doesn’t have one.  They’re everywhere, and are both useful and very annoying.

            The same applies here.  Even in the middle of nowhere Tanzania, there will be a student or a very old mama (I mean like 60 or 70 who has never had electricity in her life) who will have a cell phone.  Though there are the fancy ones with internet and stuff that you see often in cities, in my village most people have the older (but practically impossible indestructible) cell phones that were popular during the early 2000s.  It’s funny because in the U.S. my parents would ask me questions about how to do something on the phone.  Well, I saw the same thing happen a few days ago, where an old mama had to get her son to save a phone number for her because she didn’t know how and he plays with her phone all the time.

            Now, I’ve complained many a time about my village not having electricity.  So how does one charge a cell phone when you don’t leave the village for weeks and weeks but still feel that need to call people to say hi?  Well, there’s a little shop that has a solar panel not far from my house.  For about 300 shillings (about 20 cents in the U.S.) you can get them to charge your phone, and they help supply the whole village with charged phones.  Those phones are used a lot.  One cool thing that I’ve noticed is that every phone here has a flashlight (super awesome when walking through the village after dark) and a radio.  Why don’t all phones in the U.S. do that?

            In the U.S., phone calls are generally short and get to the point.  “Hey, where are we meeting up later?  Ok, see you soon.”  Most of my phone calls were maybe a minute long, if not shorter…I would rather exchange pleasantries with someone in person, especially if I’m going to see them soon.  Here, it’s very common for someone to call you just to say hi.  But when I say “say hi,” it means a few minutes of social awkwardness from my end.  They just say many different greetings, then hang up without saying good-bye.  This is the thing that gets me most.  It’s great that people want to say hi, but it drives me crazy when they’re suddenly gone and didn’t tell me in any way except to hang up.

            Phone culture is definitely very different here.  For example, many people have their phones on during meetings, and will answer in the middle of the meeting without thinking it’s rude.  Everyone just waits until they’re finished.  Ring tones are loud, and if you remember “Boom Boom Boom” by the Vega Boys, it’s one of the most popular ring tones I’ve heard in country.  People speak VERY loudly on the phone, almost as if they think they have to shout in order to get their voice to go through the phone.  People will answer everywhere and have very loud conversations that I find a wee bit annoying when I’m trying to sleep on a bus.  People will also play their radios blaringly loud, but being forced to hear everyone else’s conversations and music is just common here.

            The thing about cell phones that I find interesting is the fact that many people never used a phone before cell phones.  In the U.S., landlines are not used very much anymore, but there are many parts of Tanzania that landlines never reached.  The telephone poles just never made it out to the middle of nowhere (unsurprisingly).  It’s as if the country skipped some technologies and instead adopted the technology that works best for them.  It’s like how records never made it here, but portable radios and music files are commonplace.  It’s incredible how much technology really does make a difference, even in places you wouldn’t think it would reach.

Racist Babies

Babies are adorable.  No matter where you go, they’re just the cutest little things on earth.  Tanzania of course also has an incredible number of the adorable little balls of awesomeness.  Here, most mothers carry babies on their backs with a khanga tied in the front.  I’ve seen one baby backpack since arriving here, and openly stared at the mother and child when I did see it.  On buses, on the street, around the village or town, you can count on seeing a mother or a sibling with a little cutie-pie baby on their back.  There are lots and lots of babies around.  This is partially because of the fact that the birthrate is so high and because people have kids when they’re so young.  Many people are astonished to find out that I’m a whole 25 years-old and don’t have any kids. 

It’s also very common to see young children (I mean even 5 or 6) carrying their young siblings or neighbors.  It’s been my observation (I think it’s throughout Tanzania though of course I can only speak from my experience) that everyone in this country is used to being around children.  Men, women, young, old…kids aren’t scary to them.  Back in the U.S., one of my best friends, Emily, is terrified of children.  My sister Kaitlyn feels like she’ll break babies if she holds them.  My father used to feel that way as well, until he had some kids of his own.  Now he’s well known for loving babies and getting to hang out with kids.  Though many Americans are good with kids and love to be around them, there are also so many people who are scared of kids or are not used to being around them.  But here in Tanzania, I’ve seen some of my macho male students pick up little babies and smother them with kisses.  Older men on buses will smile and pick up a kid and play with them for the rest of the journey.  Everyone in the whole country seems not only accustomed to kids, but able to play with them and not be afraid of breaking them.  If a child falls or starts crying, it’s not the end of the world.  Mothers don’t panic that their son or daughter has been hurt a little bit, as it will only make them stronger.  I guess that helps contribute to making the kids the toughest I’ve ever been around.  Parents also aren’t afraid of a stranger holding their child.  On buses, if there’s no room for the parent to sit, strangers will often have a baby or small kid passed back and put on his or her lap for the trip.  I’m sure that there are some sick and perverted people in Tanzania who abuse children, but it’s not a crippling fear for parents the way it is for some people back in the U.S.  The first time a young kid (like 3) was passed back to sit on my lap, I was pretty stoked – cultural integration!

So overall I really want to be able to hold babies here and be a part of that aspect of the culture.  But no.  Babies look at me and start crying.  I can’t even count the number of babies and very, very young kids I’ve made cry.  They catch sight of me, their face starts to crumple into a wail, and then they scream.  I know it’s because I’m the first face they’ve seen that isn’t black, but it’s kinda disheartening when you can’t hold a single baby in the village because the kid will scream in fear.  Racist babies.  They’re such day ruiners.

A Big Thank You to Good Sam's and My Mum and Da

Two weekends ago, I went to the post office to have an incredible surprise waiting.  Two packages chock full of donations and supplies for my school.  Now allow me to explain a wee bit.  My wonderful mum and fantastic da have been spreading the word about the needs of my school to people they work with and their many incredible friends.  The amount of rallying has been astounding.  The boxes that I got were full of supplies.  When I emptied out the boxes onto the bed at my hotel, it took up quite a bit of space.  Colored pencils, books, National Geographics (which I enjoyed in particular because they’re not only good for the students, but I get to enjoy awesome reading material too!), candy, pencils, a mount-on-the-wall-or-table big pencil sharpener, erasers, flashcards, chalk, playing cards, stickers, postcards, puzzles, crayons, and then stuff for me (yay for quick meals, canned chicken and wondrous cliff bars!).  

The boxes full of goodies from my parents, the great people at Good Sam's, and my dad's school.

I was blown away and super excited to show my students and the staff the wonderful things that people were kind enough to send.  When I showed my school, I tried to get a student to videotape it, but he kept pressing the button on my camera so they’re only 5-second splits.  But there were enough pencils to give every single student one.  The excitement was tangible as I tossed pencils across the classrooms at my students (I guess I didn’t need to throw them, but frankly, it made passing out 120+ pencils a hell of a lot more fun for me).  The new pencil sharpener is something that none of my students have used before, so it’s been kind of entertaining to show them how to use it.  Their excited faces at seeing a sharp pencil (that they didn’t have to spend several minutes sharpening with a razor blade) has been quite the awesome distraction in the staff room for me.

            The supplies are now all in the school’s possession, and I’ve seen students around the village and at school clutching the books.  The other day, when my awesome kids finished a reading assignment early, I brought out some of the National Geographics (which are all from 2007 or 2008, but that doesn’t matter in the slightest, they’re still interesting).  I was laughing pretty hard when one group kept calling me over, asking me what things are.  Literally every three minutes, they would raise a hand and say loudly “Madam!  Njoo.”  Pictures of Israel (trying to explain in only a few, simple sentences about Israelis and Palestinians is kind of hard), China right before the Olympics, modern-day Celtic culture, coal country on the U.S. East Coast, Untouchable women helping supply their communities with health service in rural India…life from all around the world.  The students pretty much just looked at the pictures and the maps, but it was fun to see their faces excited at seeing something different.  In all reality, seeing the world outside of Tanzania is something that most of them won’t do in person, but if they can be exposed to a little bit more, I think they’ll be better in the long run. 

            Overall, my students and the staff at my school are incredibly grateful for all of the gifts.  When I busted out the colored pencils, it was a wee bit difficult to get all of them back at the end of the period.  Thank you so much to everyone who contributed and has helped my school.  I’m incredibly touched and my school is quite excited at the kindness you’ve all shown us.  Thank you again.

I videotaped my students saying thank you, but the internet is being incredibly slow and irritating, so I was only able to upload 2 of the 6 we made.  Here are two of them, and I will continue to try to get the other videos to load in the future.  Until then, enjoy seeing my students say thank you.

My form 2 class.  One of the kids said "And God bless you" close to me, which made me laugh a little in the video, but you can't hear him saying it.

My form 3 class.

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.