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Published: July 24th 2010
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I couldn't sleep last night. Woke up after two hours, and lay awake for about three hours before I drifted back off. I had a nightmare and kinda freaked out for awhile. I have no roommate right now and while it's pretty nice for me, being the private, independent person that I am, it's not so great when I'm scared to death that someone is going to jump through the window inches from my bed. God, what can I do? Do I move to the bed across the room? So I go over there, but the mosquito net is not working so well. It's not connected anywhere. So do I sleep without it and risk malaria, or go back to the safety of my mosquito net that is next to the window that sent me creeping from my bed to begin with? Heart pounding, I continue to pray and finally shuffle back to my bed, lay down, and keep praying for God to keep me safe. After about half an hour, I felt comfortable and safe again. Continued to toss and turn for the next few hours until I finally get a full hour of sleep. (Important note: AIT has 24
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The road I walked to school. Hard to see in this picture, but it's a dirt road. The tailor's shop is on the corner. hour security at the hotel and Tanzania is a peaceful nation with no militia breaking into homes in the middle of the night, so it's unlikely anyone could've broken into my room. But, trying telling yourself that in the middle of the night, all alone in a foreign country).
Breakfast comes and E has offered to walk me to Jecaan. Now, I must admit that I'm a champion sweater. If sweating were an Olympic sport, I'd be a gold medal contender. But this prticular morning, it's off the hook. I'm struggling quite a bit on the walk there and wishing there was a bench somewhere to sit down, but I'm fairly certain these don't exist in Africa, or at least not in the area of Tanzania that I'm in. Thankfully, despite my near sleepless night, I make it there and the two helpers offer me a chair as soon as I walk in, which I gladly take. That's when the real sweating begins. About half an hour later, clothes fully drenched, S comes in to say Hi and asks me to his office. The Tanzanian people are quite welcoming by nature, but I wonder if this is customary, or
a ploy to get time alone so he can puff out his chest and suggest reasons why I should become his African bride. Nice try, buddy. But, I do accept his invitation and during our conversation, he does mention that "the children connect to me" and my heart smiles because my good intentions are paying off.
I go back to teach my lesson, A is for Ant, B is for Butterfly. I'm a pretty lax teacher. I'm happy when the children have given their best effort. There are really three classes in one classroom. The 3&4-year-olds at one long picnic table on one end. Another table with cihld-size chairs holds the 5-year-olds and the other side of the classroom contains 3 table/bench combos that look like half of a picnic table for the 6-year-olds. I'm joyful every time one of the kids holds up their completed worksheet and says "Teacha! Finished!" It's exciting to see them working hard and using their creative side as it doesn't seem they often get to do that. There are no crayons in the classroom besides the ones I brought, and there are no paints or craft materials. Their pencils are mostly broken in half with no eraser and the teacher sharpens them with a straight razor. Teacher R is the only trained teacher in the room and speaks the most English.
Corporal punishment is the traditional method of discipline in Tanzania, and it is alive and well in this classroom. R is quick to yell at students to write faster and finish quickly. And if a student gets the answer wrong, she hits them on the arm or back with a stick. This often escalates as she'll stand over the student's shoulder and if they don't immediately get the answer correct, she continues the yelling and hitting. There is one boy in particular that seems to be the target of her frustration. I give him lots of extra love and affection. The written information AIT gave me warned that we are to be respectful of this form of discipline and not step in or show our disdain, but rather try to teach the teachers different methods. So, I prayed that the kids would feel love in other ways and that the teacher would learn patience and encouragement and that she would be open to learning new methods. Somehow, seeing this for the first time didn't shock me the way I thought it would though it was quite difficult to watch. Perhaps because I was warned, or even because This is Africa (TIA). It's a phrase I've been hearing that seems to mean-what do you expect? This is Africa. Yes, it's hot. Yes, it's dirty. Yes, we hit our kids in school. Yes, we throw our trash in the gutter. But, this is Africa! To be fair, I have mostly heard this phrase to be used in a light-mannered way as in, I know we don't have hot water, but doesn't a cold shower feel better anyway? (And it did, in fact.) TIA! Yes, I'm half an hour late, but this is Africa. And to the latter, I thought, "They're late all the time? These are my people!" Like Kathy Griffin has her gays, I have the Africans.
To be fair to Teacher R, she had a difficult job trying to teach 3 different grade levels with the help of two women who were very kind, but untrained and often just sat with the kids or reminded them to be quiet. And she seemed genuinely happy for me to be there--very supportive and big smiles each time I told the children they did a good job. After my lesson is finished, I try to help the children finish the problems R gave them and leave around noon. You wouldn't think three hours could last so long, but the days are so long here and I have yet to figure out why. With as much as I'm doing, I'd think it would go by quicker.
By the time I get back home, I'm really hating the one shower a day rule (to conserver water). So far, I've been reserving my shower for just before dinner which has been wise, but I could honestly use about 3 showers a day. Lunch is chappatis which are delicious! If you're like me, and you've never had such a thing, it's like a pancake without the sugar served with beans and a salad. I really had no idea exactly how to eat it, so I checked to see what everyone else was doing. I saw it eaten several ways. I saw one person put the chappati on the bottom, then beans, then salad, one at it like a taco, no salad and I put the beans on top of the chappati and chopped it up--salad on the side. The afternoon brought Adult English, which I'm really enjoying. Today, I explained the structure of the paragraph and had everyone write a paragraph about what job they would have if they could have any job in the world and why. After they wrote, they read them out loud. It was a struggle for some of them, but they all worked really hard at it. It's very clear that they're here to better themselves so they can have a better future for themselves and bring a better future to their country. It's quite inspiring and humbling to think I'm playing just a small part in what is a significant transition in this country.
After dinner, everyone was headed to Mchuno's to watch the football (soccer) game, and I planned to go with F and P, but as I went upstairs to return my diary to my room and grab my sweater, my parents called my vodaphone. It was great to hear their voices and they were excited to hear about what I've been doing. By the time I got back downstairs, they were gone. No matter, as I enjoyed some time to myself. I listened to a little Dane Cook to help it feel more like home until my baby love called. And, finally, a full night's sleep.
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Heather
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I loved your Tanzania post about teaching, and "TIA!" I admire what you're doing and it seems to be an incredible experience. My blog is looking for travel photos, reviews, etc, to share. We'll soon have a volunteer section also, for info/experiences, if there's anything you'd like to contribute. If you have the time, check it out at dirty-hippies.blogspot.com, or email us at dirtyhippiesblog@gmail.com. Continued fun on your travels and good luck with your teaching! Heather :)