**This entry has deleted itself/not published about ten times (actually only 4), so here is my last desperate attempt to publish it two days after it was written.
I have found wireless internet, and am able to work on my lap top. The good news is that it is faster than almost all the dial up connections in town. The bad news is that I can no longer blame my typos on the keyboard, and someone in Dubai is probably stealing my identity. When I log on it takes me to Google Nigeria. Enough said.
We have moved into a hotel in town to save on cab fare and to be a bit closer to Sophie's dad who came with her for part of the trip, as we are spending most of our time at the Centre or lesson planning, and as such the paternal bonding time is somewhat limited. We now have two single beds that are pushed together under one mosquito net. For those of you who are unfamiliar, two single beds are the same width as one king size bed. In other words, our new sleeping arrangement is the size of our old room. Except that we now also have some space around the beds. Honestly, the space thing wasn't a big deal, but it provides an interesting comparison to life in Canada.
The last few days have been very tough. We've learned a bit about the boys' pasts...I just typed out two boy's stories with a disclaimer that they would be difficult to read, but had to delete them. Even though I was keeping them anonymous, they are not the sortes of stories that children should come across on the internet. They are horrific and traumatizing, beyond anything I ever would have suspected or imagined, and I have no idea how some of these kids manage to go on day after day. It is absolutely heart breaking. And when you ask them what they wish for, all they say is a house and a bed and a radio.
This brings me to a difficult lesson learned today. The word for "wish" and the word for "want" in Swahili are the same (according to our numerous dictionaries and most of the people we spoke to). We decided to do an activity similar to a "wishing well" except we called it a "dream basket", a) because we actually used a basket and symbolism would probably be lost on our given audience, and b) despite the many people that come to build schools and dig wells on this continent, none of the boys knew what a well was. So we made small pieces of paper that said "Ninataka..." or "I wish..." (or "I want..."), and created examples such as "Ninataka...to be happy", "Ninataka...to drive a car". Please excuse the mixture of Swahili and English. So one of the older boys, who is developmentally delayed and does not attend school, and henceforth was at home while we were setting up, said "So we write and then you give?". So we explained that it was not like an order form, it was more like what you want in your heart, or what you dream of. He clarified, "So it's like a game?". And we agreed. Oh why did we agree? The boys really seemed to enjoy the activity, but at the end of the night we found out that it had been explained to them that it was a game...and that we would choose "two or five" of the wishes and grant them. And while some of the boys really understood our original intention and drew pictures of rainbows to represent happiness, families, future career goals, some of them had written very specifically, "I want a radio with batteries and earphones, please". If they all had written that they wanted a radio it would have been ok, but there were at least 10 requests for beds and computers (they have beds at the Centre, but buying a bed is a really important first step in moving out one day, so they all know that one day they will have to save up and buy a bed). I can't believe how naive we were. Unfortunately computers and beds are a bit outside of the budget when we are trying to fund basics like a new stove or water filter and supplement the grocery fund. We got the message across emphasizing the word "dream", but some of the older ones really didn't see the point of telling someone what you wanted if they couldn't get it for you. Lesson learned, we will be more practical in the future.
When we were in town two days ago a street vendor came up to us to try and sell us batiks. He asked us what we were doing here and we said we were teachers here to do art classes with children. His response was "Safi sana, so you can teach them some skills so maybe one day they can have a job". There are more artists in Moshi than you can shake a stick at - everyone is painting banana leaf paintings, doing batiks, carving wood, and selling their work to tourists. However, we are not here to lead a vocational training program so that the boys will one day be able to sell batiks for less than $3 a piece. The idea that you would do anything for "fun" is foreign to most people (other than, perhaps, playing sports). Some of the younger boys are really catching on and like to draw and play around with the new materials we brought, and most importantly aren't worried about doing anything "wrong". This is encouraging.
Lastly, we have firmly established that teaching is the most underpaid profession worldwide. When bargaining for anything, from food to cab fare, the phrase "Mimi ni mwalimu, sina pesa" ("I am a teacher, I have no money") will bring down the price significantly. In fact, yesterday it halved our taxi fare to the Centre, AND the cab driver drove us right to the door (usually they are skeptical of doing this because the last bit of the road is extremely bumpy). This method of bargaining is not to be abused. Some American guy at the restaurant last night started a shouting match because they didn't have 500 shillings change for him. That's less than fifty cents! Get a grip! But when we can shave some money off the mzungu price and add it to the peanut butter fund, it is money well saved.
Alright, I'm off to the Centre today to create a farmyard mural. It is Saturday so all the boys will be around all day.
I'll write again soon! Thank you for your messages!
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Map of Tanzania