"We are prone to judge success by the index of our salaries or the size of our automobiles, rather than by the quality of our service relationship to humanity." - Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Finding my rhythm

Yesterday, as I left the gate of summer house, I ran into a teacher from Mwasama.  He called me over to a small mud hut.  Inside, was an elderly toothless woman with a small fire, over which was a pot with a boiling liquid.  Offering me a chipped tea cup full of a brownish liquid, Saif explained that it was a ginger drink and that he had it every morning.  Turning down food is not polite, so I had a teeny tiny sip.  It wasn't that bad...and I'm still standing.  The morning had begun. Later, while riding through town in the van on my way to Mwasama, I realized that I’ve fallen into a bit of a routine and feel much more settled.   I hardly flinched when we had to stop because of a donkey, sleeping in the middle of the road.  Yes, there are things that I’m working on getting used to, as well as some that I doubt I ever will, but all in all I’m adjusting well.  I never doubted that this journey would have its difficult moments; I just never anticipated exactly how and why those moments would occur.   The days have begun to meld, one into another, and I realize that two weeks have passed. 

The past few days at Mwasama have been exam days for the students.  All desks, tables, and chairs are spread throughout the grounds, anywhere but inside a classroom.  Tests are handed out, and students quietly get to work.  Yesterday, I was able to sit down with a few of the teachers and discuss strategies and ideas.  It was wonderful, feeling as though we were able to share what works best with kids, regardless of where they are.  Marianna, a teacher originally from Bulgaria but who has been living in Tanzania for thirteen years, was able to become a bit of a bridge of sorts for me.  We discussed at length the curriculum and plans for teaching students english.  Most primary schools are taught in Swahili, while secondary schools are taught in English, as are the tests required to enter secondary school.  A major problem in Tanzania is the English fluency required to pass the secondary school exams.  Mwasama is one of very few primary schools where English is the language used, so most of its students go on to secondary education. 

In chatting with Marianna, I learned that there is no literature instruction, in either Swahili or English, at any primary level school.  Can you imagine elementary school without stories?  Part of the problem is a lack of books, part is the understanding of the effects that reading for pleasure has on fluent literacy development.  At lunch today, I asked Zik (the CCS coordinator) to schedule a meeting with Mwasama’s owner so that we can discuss some sort of literature/literacy exchange program.  So, I’m hoping to brainstorm this weekend some ideas to present that are feasible and sustainable. 

Anyone who’s spent time in a third world country knows that it’s considered decidedly uncouth to do anything of significance with one’s left hand.  Eating, shaking hands, or handing someone something with the left hand is not a good way to make friends.  I’m working on being more conscious of this.  So, when I was offered a handful of peanuts today, I was proud to remember to receive them in my right hand.  I was left, sitting there faced with a bit of a conundrum…
Is it worse to keep the pile in my right hand and eat with my “bad” hand, or to keep the pile in my “bad” hand and eat with my right?

I finally decided on a bit of a combo – switching as needed.  So, whether they think I’m filthy or not, I’m pretty certain that they think I’m a little off.  My peanut problem was interrupted, however when Mzee, pontificating in Swahili as usual, broke away from his stern, macho demeanor.

“Who let zee doogs out?” he yelled out across the courtyard, as I nearly spit a peanut through my nose.

The small first graders ran toward him, yelling “Who? Who? Who?” in response.  Priceless.

We’re off to Zanzibar this afternoon.  It should be quite a marathon.  Remember my new best friend Kennedy from my arrival?  He showed up a few days after I got here and handed me quotes for a Zanzibar trip and a safari.  Since I was the connection, I accidentally became official cruise director for our group.  He’ll pick us up in a bit, drive us to Dar (with a quick stop at the ATM, as the only one in Baga has been out of money for a week…TIA), and drop us on the ferry.  Assuming we arrive in one piece (the Dramamine’s already packed), there will hopefully be a driver there to pick us up and take us to the northern tip of the island to our hotel.  We’ll have all day Saturday to relax in the sun.  Sunday, we’ll spend the day in Stone Town before getting back on the ferry and returning to Baga, exhausted but full of stories, I’m sure.  I know that I’ve been terrible about posting pics, but it drastically increases the cost of internet time, so I’ll try to get some up next week.

One thing that I adore about Africa is a sort of matter-of-fact innocence of its people.  As I left Mwasama yesterday, Shegren and I chatted.  I watched the chickens wander through the courtyard and realized how strange it will be to return home where chickens don’t wander freely.

“You sure have a lot of chickens here.”
“Don’t you have zee cheecken in America, Wembah?”
“Not walking around like this.”
“What do you do for dinner?  Does your neighbor have chicken?”

1 comment:

  1. Amber,

    Things have been crazy here but this morning I finally got the time to read your blogs. I laughed, cried and felt incredibly blessed to have you as a friend in my life. You are doing amazing things and although sometimes you feel frustrated it sounds like a journey that will be life changing. Thinking of you and looking forward to your next update. By the way, Harper is doing well. Much love. Patti

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