Well, today is the big 4 moth Tanziversary, and we are naturally celebrating it in Kenya!
This is going to be another short one, but I wanted to let people know I'm still alive.
After our great experiences in Nairobi and Mombasa (and Embu, where we stayed at a WORLD CLASS RUNNERS CAMP in the mopst beatiful and friendly part of this continent I have seen-(aka my favorite place so far)), we headed off to Lamu. As any good Americans would, we celebrated Christmas Eve by sliding down sand dunes on the beach (sledding) and following a nice stranger with a flashlight back to the part of the island where we wanted to be (3 guys, following a "star" to a place foretold...sound familiar?). On Christmas day we stepped it up a notch and wore our Christmas sweaters to the beach. All in all, there have been a lot of great people, great weather, and great, cheap food!
Now we are preparing to start the journey back to Hanga, as our bus heads to Mombasa tomorrow!
I hope all is well with everyone! Merry Christmas (it doesn't end until January 6 after all)!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Funky Adventure Part One- The General Overview So Far
Well, no matter where I am, I'm frugal, and I'm paying to use internet in a cyber cafe, so this first holiday travelling blog is just going to be a general overview to let you all know I'm alive and all that good stuff.
First of all, as should be expected, the plans changed. Instead of The Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda thing, we're doing the Kenya thing. (You'd think I didn't want to do the original plan and intentionally jinxed it, but I promise this was just an innocent realization that hanging around Kenya would work better.)
We spent the first week in Nairobi, and it was great! It was great to be with Simon, Alex, and Fr. Francis and see their site! As for Frisbee, all I will say right now is that I had two very funky adventures and one of the best experiences I've had on this continent...I'll leave that as a teaser for a later blog/storytelling session.
Alex, Mike, and I then headed to Mombasa near the coast and spent some time on some of the South Coast beaches. It was relaxing and beautiful, but I did also lose a small battle with a sea urchin...don't worry though, Mike wants to be a doctor, and he nursed my foot back to health (just imagine a sliver, but then have ten of them, make them bigger, and spread them around the bottom of your foot). Good times. There was a point when I was laughing to myself, because I had wanted to lay near the beach, and there I was, laying in our cottage near the beach, with Mike removing urchin remnants. Oh life!
In a couple of days Simon will be here and we'll be heading for the Northern Island of Lamu. While I prefer a white Christmas (settle down MN weather!), I'll have to settle for a white sandy beach Christmas...What can ya do?
First of all, as should be expected, the plans changed. Instead of The Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda thing, we're doing the Kenya thing. (You'd think I didn't want to do the original plan and intentionally jinxed it, but I promise this was just an innocent realization that hanging around Kenya would work better.)
We spent the first week in Nairobi, and it was great! It was great to be with Simon, Alex, and Fr. Francis and see their site! As for Frisbee, all I will say right now is that I had two very funky adventures and one of the best experiences I've had on this continent...I'll leave that as a teaser for a later blog/storytelling session.
Alex, Mike, and I then headed to Mombasa near the coast and spent some time on some of the South Coast beaches. It was relaxing and beautiful, but I did also lose a small battle with a sea urchin...don't worry though, Mike wants to be a doctor, and he nursed my foot back to health (just imagine a sliver, but then have ten of them, make them bigger, and spread them around the bottom of your foot). Good times. There was a point when I was laughing to myself, because I had wanted to lay near the beach, and there I was, laying in our cottage near the beach, with Mike removing urchin remnants. Oh life!
In a couple of days Simon will be here and we'll be heading for the Northern Island of Lamu. While I prefer a white Christmas (settle down MN weather!), I'll have to settle for a white sandy beach Christmas...What can ya do?
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Kutoa Asante
What better way to celebrate our three month Tanziversary and Thanksgiving (and my "silver blog") than with a blog title written in what I can only assume is poor Kiswahili. By my understanding, “kutoa asante” literally means “to give thanks”. My apologies if for some reason it actually means something else. Anyway, I had my first real “blogger’s block” when trying to think of what to write about for this blog. Don’t get me wrong, I am more and more aware each day just how much I have to be thankful for. I guess I just wanted to write something so great that people would say, “Hey. He has all that time to think of there, and those are such interesting thoughts, we should share them with the family at Thanksgiving.” That’s not the point though, so here’s what you’re going to get: First, a brief explanation of my Tanzanian Thanksgiving to be (I’m writing this on Turkey-Day morning). Second, if you want, you can read about a couple of specific things I am thankful for. Sure it’s cliché, but reflecting on thankfulness is the closest thing I’ll be having to a normal Thanksgiving.I started my Thanksgiving by sleeping in until 7:30! There have been a ton of early mornings in a row trying to use the internet while we have power to work on the fundraiser, and I wanted to be able to be thankful for sleep. After breakfast I went and used my less-than-mediocre Swahili skills to explain to the tailor that my pants didn’t fit, and he just seemed to think it was funny and said they’d be ready tomorrow! Later this morning I’ll be watering the garden for Sr. Claudia This turned into shoveling compost into bags for a monk. There were holes in the bottom of the bags we shoveled into, but don’t worry, we tied them up with banana leaves. Trash Art!) This is taking the place of us cooking a big Thanksgiving dinner. You see, the kitchen is in charge of cooking for the entire monastic compound, and when we try to make our own small meal for a few people, sometimes it seems like an extra burden. They’re definitely fine with it, but they have seemed a little stressed lately, and Mike and I judged that it’d be best not to add to that, so instead of cooking for us, we’re helping with what they want (thus, watering the garden). We did, however, see a giant turkey on our way back from soccer with little kids in a nearby village yesterday! We weren’t sure if we were being taunted or if it was symbolic…I’m choosing the latter.After lunch will just be random work time (laundry, Spirituality section, catch up on journaling and reading). We’ve actually been pretty busy grading exams, and we’re kind of taking today easy in order to celebrate being done (the grading was quite the messy adventure…Let me just say I’m more and more thankful for the American education system, flaws and all). Anyway, this evening will be sports. We’ve been playing Tanzania vs. America in basketball, and today is an especially important day to represent our country! And yes, it is usually 8 vs. 2, and yes, Mike and I do tend to dominate. U! S! A!... Anyway, after dinner and prayer comes one of the most exciting parts. We’re combining a couple of recent packages and putting some nice Dove chocolate on some wonderful home baked cookies! I might even splurge for some mango juice!...Now, for my cliché but necessary thankfulness:1. I am so incredibly thankful for the fact that things happen “against the odds”. One of the wisest men I ever knew said, “The odds are always against the really important things.” What are the odds, he pointed out, that each of our parents would have come together at exactly the moments they did in order to make the crazy-small genetics and chemistry and biology come together in the way they did to create us exactly as we are. Of course, Br. Dietrich said this much more eloquently, but you get the idea. What are the odds that a kid who thought going to college an hour away from home was too far would live in Africa for a while? If you ask this guy, I’d tell you they are about as low as possible. However, I am so thankful for everything that God has called me to recently, and, even with the struggles, I can’t imagine anything else. I’m specifically thankful for the fact that I have still never been in a place that I wasn’t happy to be (all my schools, jobs, and now this volunteer experience). Every little thing that has happened to me and that I have done in my life could have gone a million different ways, but I am thankful that they have gone the way they have. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I am a pretty darn big fan of my past and present, and I'm pretty gosh darn pumped about the future. God is good! All the time!
My second big clump of thankfulness is for all of you. Sure I'm thankful that you take the time to read my blog, but, more importantly I want to let you know that "I appreciate the role you play in my life" (see Nick Hansen). Seriously though, I cannot dream of a more phenomenal set of people to be surrounded by (physically when I'm home, as well as emotionally and through prayer). Thank you to all of you! If you have a bite of turkey in my honor, that'd be great. Just know that I will eat at least one grain of rice for each of you! God bless and Happy Thanksgiving!
My second big clump of thankfulness is for all of you. Sure I'm thankful that you take the time to read my blog, but, more importantly I want to let you know that "I appreciate the role you play in my life" (see Nick Hansen). Seriously though, I cannot dream of a more phenomenal set of people to be surrounded by (physically when I'm home, as well as emotionally and through prayer). Thank you to all of you! If you have a bite of turkey in my honor, that'd be great. Just know that I will eat at least one grain of rice for each of you! God bless and Happy Thanksgiving!
Monday, November 22, 2010
I Can Feel the Rain Down in Africa!
That’s right, last night we had our first legitimate rainfall! As I may have mentioned, the rainy season is said to bring mangoes, more hydro-power, cooler weather, a colorful landscape, “creepy-crawlies”, and malaria! What a combo!
Also, since yesterday was the last Sunday in Ordinary time and next Sunday we will be beginning our holiday travels, I have officially begun my weeklong marathon of NSYNC and 98 Degrees Christmas music!
Even though I haven’t taught since exam season began, I have stayed fairly busy. Currently I am working on 2 fairly large projects. I have to grade my class’ 69 exams, each with 25 questions. The fun part about that is the fact that the district-created and district-distributed answer key isn’t necessarily fully correct or clear. Let’s just say it’s been a tedious adventure so far….
Also, I am frantically and frustratingly trying to work with limited and slow internet to put together a Christmas fundraiser for the trade school. It is called “The Christmas Brick Project”, and you’ll hear plenty more about it if it actually comes to fruition. (Don’t worry, writing this blog is not wasting said precious internet time, as I am writing it on my internetless computer).
Also, Mike and I made a bold move last week…we went to the VTC tailor shop to get fitted for pants and shirts…without translators. It seemed like it went smoothly, and we definitely made it clear that we each wanted pants and a shirt. Sidenote: When I pointed to the fabric I liked for pants, the woman said, “Trousers??” I affirmed that I knew what I was doing. It turns out it was the least expensive material possible, and I think she expected me to go for something a little more high-end. Apparently I’ve become so thrifty that I do it on accident. The pants and shirt ended up being about 15 U.S. dollars total (fabric and labor)! How were the finished products? Well, the pants are perfect besides the fact that I recently learned my waist is about the same circumference as a Frisbee. The waist of my pants?...Substantially smaller than the circumference of a Frisbee. Let’s just say I have to do quite the dance to get situated into the pants... The shirt looks pretty sweet, but they added some crazy embroidery that make it only wearable to feasts and celebrations (thus, it’s not the teaching shirt I wanted). It will, however make a great “This is my crazy African shirt” shirt when I return home!
In other random and exciting news, we got word from Peace Corps friend that there were packages for us at the post office. I’ll try to make a long story short: We caught the first Saturday bus into Songea, and we got to the post office at 10:30 (we stopped to see the 3 awesome sisters referenced in the previous blog), and we were still there around 12:30. First they just told us to wait. Then they said the parcel man wasn’t there. Then he came. Then he said the customs man wasn’t there. Then we called the parcel man and convinced him to come in. He eventually let us search for packages and we found 2 for Mike and one for me (thanks Hansen family!). It turns out there were two packages for an American volunteer that had already gone home, so we were supposed to take those too. All of a sudden we were figuring out how to get 5 sizable packages onto an already packed bus back to Hanga. What a great problem to have! We have all the sweets and fiber and rosaries we could ask for! For reference, we’re not sure how long the packages sat there. I received two packages within two weeks of them being sent, but I also know of a package sent over a month ago that’s not here. I did hear of a volunteer who received half of a Christmas tree in November and the other half in June…Oh Tanzanian Postal Service!
The last mini-story occurred when we went to pick up our “tailored” clothes. There were a bunch of village kids throwing rocks at a monkey (apparently not their rafiki), but their attention quickly switched to swarming us (luckily we don’t look too much like monkeys apparently- no mzungus were harmed in the making of this memory). They played the game where they see how many of them can hold our hands at once while we walk. We commenced to exhausting the extent of our Swahili with them and they did the same with their English. Then we went over Spanish, English, Swahili, and Italian numbers (not sure who was teaching who most of the time). It ended with somersaults into the dirt. I think that part was one of those “you had to be there” things, but it felt like their equivalent to playing in the snow!
Also, the other night we visited our Italian friends out in a very remote village nearby, and our reward for finding the place was some delicious Italian pasta and wonderful company! The food was SO GOOD!
Finally, since next blog will be my “Thanksgiving Edition”, I should explain at least briefly the travelling we’ll be doing. This travelling may very well decrease the frequency of my blogs. Don’t worry though, that just means you faithful readers will have one less excuse to distract yourselves from the work you’re supposed to be doing! Plus, I’ll take as many pictures as possible. Anyway, we figure now that we’ve taught for a solid month, we might as well travel for a month (actually, there’s not really work here right now, and it’s the only chance to travel for me, at least). Thus, Mike, Teresa (Austria), and I will head to Dar es Salaam on Sunday. From there we will catch a bus to Nairobi, Kenya to visit Simon, Alex, and Fr. Francis! Then we’ll head to Kampala, Uganda for a while. From there it’s off to Kigali, Rwanda, and then we go back to Nairobi for Christmas. On the way back to Hanga we plan to visit some Seminary students throughout Tanzania. It is important to note that we are, indeed looping around Lake Victoria (in case you’re looking at a map). However, I will refer to it as something different…This trip will be called the “Tour de Frisbee- East Africa”. Let’s just say I’m already in contact with organized Frisbee in Nairobi, Kampala, and Kigali. Game on, Hapana Pipi!
Also, since yesterday was the last Sunday in Ordinary time and next Sunday we will be beginning our holiday travels, I have officially begun my weeklong marathon of NSYNC and 98 Degrees Christmas music!
Even though I haven’t taught since exam season began, I have stayed fairly busy. Currently I am working on 2 fairly large projects. I have to grade my class’ 69 exams, each with 25 questions. The fun part about that is the fact that the district-created and district-distributed answer key isn’t necessarily fully correct or clear. Let’s just say it’s been a tedious adventure so far….
Also, I am frantically and frustratingly trying to work with limited and slow internet to put together a Christmas fundraiser for the trade school. It is called “The Christmas Brick Project”, and you’ll hear plenty more about it if it actually comes to fruition. (Don’t worry, writing this blog is not wasting said precious internet time, as I am writing it on my internetless computer).
Also, Mike and I made a bold move last week…we went to the VTC tailor shop to get fitted for pants and shirts…without translators. It seemed like it went smoothly, and we definitely made it clear that we each wanted pants and a shirt. Sidenote: When I pointed to the fabric I liked for pants, the woman said, “Trousers??” I affirmed that I knew what I was doing. It turns out it was the least expensive material possible, and I think she expected me to go for something a little more high-end. Apparently I’ve become so thrifty that I do it on accident. The pants and shirt ended up being about 15 U.S. dollars total (fabric and labor)! How were the finished products? Well, the pants are perfect besides the fact that I recently learned my waist is about the same circumference as a Frisbee. The waist of my pants?...Substantially smaller than the circumference of a Frisbee. Let’s just say I have to do quite the dance to get situated into the pants... The shirt looks pretty sweet, but they added some crazy embroidery that make it only wearable to feasts and celebrations (thus, it’s not the teaching shirt I wanted). It will, however make a great “This is my crazy African shirt” shirt when I return home!
In other random and exciting news, we got word from Peace Corps friend that there were packages for us at the post office. I’ll try to make a long story short: We caught the first Saturday bus into Songea, and we got to the post office at 10:30 (we stopped to see the 3 awesome sisters referenced in the previous blog), and we were still there around 12:30. First they just told us to wait. Then they said the parcel man wasn’t there. Then he came. Then he said the customs man wasn’t there. Then we called the parcel man and convinced him to come in. He eventually let us search for packages and we found 2 for Mike and one for me (thanks Hansen family!). It turns out there were two packages for an American volunteer that had already gone home, so we were supposed to take those too. All of a sudden we were figuring out how to get 5 sizable packages onto an already packed bus back to Hanga. What a great problem to have! We have all the sweets and fiber and rosaries we could ask for! For reference, we’re not sure how long the packages sat there. I received two packages within two weeks of them being sent, but I also know of a package sent over a month ago that’s not here. I did hear of a volunteer who received half of a Christmas tree in November and the other half in June…Oh Tanzanian Postal Service!
The last mini-story occurred when we went to pick up our “tailored” clothes. There were a bunch of village kids throwing rocks at a monkey (apparently not their rafiki), but their attention quickly switched to swarming us (luckily we don’t look too much like monkeys apparently- no mzungus were harmed in the making of this memory). They played the game where they see how many of them can hold our hands at once while we walk. We commenced to exhausting the extent of our Swahili with them and they did the same with their English. Then we went over Spanish, English, Swahili, and Italian numbers (not sure who was teaching who most of the time). It ended with somersaults into the dirt. I think that part was one of those “you had to be there” things, but it felt like their equivalent to playing in the snow!
Also, the other night we visited our Italian friends out in a very remote village nearby, and our reward for finding the place was some delicious Italian pasta and wonderful company! The food was SO GOOD!
Finally, since next blog will be my “Thanksgiving Edition”, I should explain at least briefly the travelling we’ll be doing. This travelling may very well decrease the frequency of my blogs. Don’t worry though, that just means you faithful readers will have one less excuse to distract yourselves from the work you’re supposed to be doing! Plus, I’ll take as many pictures as possible. Anyway, we figure now that we’ve taught for a solid month, we might as well travel for a month (actually, there’s not really work here right now, and it’s the only chance to travel for me, at least). Thus, Mike, Teresa (Austria), and I will head to Dar es Salaam on Sunday. From there we will catch a bus to Nairobi, Kenya to visit Simon, Alex, and Fr. Francis! Then we’ll head to Kampala, Uganda for a while. From there it’s off to Kigali, Rwanda, and then we go back to Nairobi for Christmas. On the way back to Hanga we plan to visit some Seminary students throughout Tanzania. It is important to note that we are, indeed looping around Lake Victoria (in case you’re looking at a map). However, I will refer to it as something different…This trip will be called the “Tour de Frisbee- East Africa”. Let’s just say I’m already in contact with organized Frisbee in Nairobi, Kampala, and Kigali. Game on, Hapana Pipi!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Sweating the Small Stuff
I know they say, “Don’t sweat the small stuff”, but they say a lot of stuff, and I’m not even sure who ‘they’ are. Anyway, over the last few days I have been given great reason to sweat the small stuff, because there’s been some pretty safi sana small stuff to sweat (“safi sana” means very good/very clean, and I learned on Facebook earlier this week that it is okay to mix languages for the sake of alliteration).
First, in general, I have been blessed with a handful of opportunities recently to communicate with wonderful family and friends via chance or planned internet connections, and that’s a hugely appreciated bit of small stuff!
Also, this weekend was the VTC (trade school) graduation. There was plenty of great dancing and singing. I know what you’re the thinking. The answer is yes, I did, in fact, help train said dancers! Okay, so really I went to the trade school to use the internet and saw it was busy so I decided to sneak in the back of a classroom and watch student practice their graduation performance. The next thing you know, I’m kicking it (literally, the dancing involved a lot of kicking) with a bunch of the trade schoolers. Also, one of the dances was mildly reminiscent of the A-Town stomp for those familiar.
Anyway, the celebration was great, and it was topped off by a wish of Br. Patrick’s coming true. All week he talked about how he heard people take entire goats, put rice and veggies inside them, and roast them. He didn’t know how to do it or who did it (maybe ‘they’ do it), but he wanted to make it happen. At the end of the night, what comes waltzing in to singing and dancing? Students carrying a wooden contraption with a roasted goat (I refrained from taking pictures because I figured some of my readers wouldn’t really want to see that). Well, it was the most delicious bite of food I have had in this country. Way to go, Br. Patrick! And, on another animal-lovers-should-look-away note, the next morning at the trade school’s “thank you monastery” Mass, they brought in all sorts of gifts- bananas, a rabbit, a baby pig (kitimoto, which literally translated means “hot chair” and made for an interesting misunderstanding earlier in the week), and manure!
Another simple joy we experienced recently- a pleasant chant. Mike and I wandered through the village yesterday, and, as usual, little kids shouted excitedly, calling us mzungu and asking for candy or pictures. Then, something extra cool happened: a couple really literally girls started running after us as they CHANTED WA-ZUN-GU,! WA-ZUN-GU! (wazungu is plural). It was magical.
Also, there were definitely baby monkeys in trees by the trade school the other day! I asked little kids if the monkeys were friends, and they replied affirmatively, "Rafiki yangu". Yep, I got them to call the monkey "rafiki". You're welcome Lion King fans.
The most recently simple pleasure was another big one for me. I just got done with my first hot shower in 2 and a half months! Don’t get me wrong, cold showers have been great most of the time due to the heat here. However, I’m not going to turn down a nice hot shower every couple of months.
Also, yesterday I happened to meet three of the coolest people I’ve met since Fr. Francis! I was just trying to return the library key to the Seminary staff room, and I ended up having an hour long lunch with three nuns from Songea. One is from Ethiopia (one of my favorite countries ever since 4th grade) and two are from India. They run the ‘”de Paul” schools near Songea and offered to be a rest stop and curry supplier every time we bike into Songea, and I fully intend to take them up on that offer. We had a really great talk about education, about Ethiopia, about Tanzania, about India, and about food! Plus, they brought apples and “mango pickle” (really good, spicy mango/chili sauce)!
Also, if I have not informed you, the school year here doesn’t really line up with our school year in America. In other words, now that I’ve taught for a little over a month, it’s time for summer vacation (no class for the next two months). Don’t worry, I actually have other work to do (and some travelling to be detailed soon). However, this does mean I recently had my last class of the year. We spent most of it reviewing for their big exam, and they really brought a lot of energy and responded to questions enthusiastically (not a norm for them). Thus, I had to fulfill my promise. I had to show them how to stand on one finger.
Naturally, I had to ham it up a little extra, so I offered to do it on the teacher desk so all 69 could see. Please note, this desk was not necessarily new and may not have had all legs screwed in fully…Don’t worry, I didn’t break the desk and have to spend my travelling money to replace it (a thought that did cross my mind- they deserved the risk though). I told the students in front they’d have to catch me if I fell, and they backed up…we’re still working on trust. So, I put my finger on the desk and stepped on it. I wish there was a way to make that less anti-climatic via typing, but honestly, that’s all I did. I was worried that this play on English words wouldn’t quite click, but a large portion of them laughed almost instantly, and the rest did when I quickly explained! Some educators may say this is just “Vegas for Vegas’ sake” (see Teach Like a Champion) or that it’s taking away their intrinsic motivation to learn and work hard, but I say it’s my way of showing them how serious I am about wanting them to get into their education and to realize that it can something different than they’ve ever known. Either way, as I left for the final time, the class clapped. Yeah, they clapped! I know it was for the stupid human trick, but part of me wants to think it was also something to the effect of “Hey, we can tell you really tried this term. Hopefully we all meet again next term so we can try even harder together.” Then again, maybe they were just excited that they could go trick the other classes into thinking they could stand on one finger.
First, in general, I have been blessed with a handful of opportunities recently to communicate with wonderful family and friends via chance or planned internet connections, and that’s a hugely appreciated bit of small stuff!
Also, this weekend was the VTC (trade school) graduation. There was plenty of great dancing and singing. I know what you’re the thinking. The answer is yes, I did, in fact, help train said dancers! Okay, so really I went to the trade school to use the internet and saw it was busy so I decided to sneak in the back of a classroom and watch student practice their graduation performance. The next thing you know, I’m kicking it (literally, the dancing involved a lot of kicking) with a bunch of the trade schoolers. Also, one of the dances was mildly reminiscent of the A-Town stomp for those familiar.
Anyway, the celebration was great, and it was topped off by a wish of Br. Patrick’s coming true. All week he talked about how he heard people take entire goats, put rice and veggies inside them, and roast them. He didn’t know how to do it or who did it (maybe ‘they’ do it), but he wanted to make it happen. At the end of the night, what comes waltzing in to singing and dancing? Students carrying a wooden contraption with a roasted goat (I refrained from taking pictures because I figured some of my readers wouldn’t really want to see that). Well, it was the most delicious bite of food I have had in this country. Way to go, Br. Patrick! And, on another animal-lovers-should-look-away note, the next morning at the trade school’s “thank you monastery” Mass, they brought in all sorts of gifts- bananas, a rabbit, a baby pig (kitimoto, which literally translated means “hot chair” and made for an interesting misunderstanding earlier in the week), and manure!
Another simple joy we experienced recently- a pleasant chant. Mike and I wandered through the village yesterday, and, as usual, little kids shouted excitedly, calling us mzungu and asking for candy or pictures. Then, something extra cool happened: a couple really literally girls started running after us as they CHANTED WA-ZUN-GU,! WA-ZUN-GU! (wazungu is plural). It was magical.
Also, there were definitely baby monkeys in trees by the trade school the other day! I asked little kids if the monkeys were friends, and they replied affirmatively, "Rafiki yangu". Yep, I got them to call the monkey "rafiki". You're welcome Lion King fans.
The most recently simple pleasure was another big one for me. I just got done with my first hot shower in 2 and a half months! Don’t get me wrong, cold showers have been great most of the time due to the heat here. However, I’m not going to turn down a nice hot shower every couple of months.
Also, yesterday I happened to meet three of the coolest people I’ve met since Fr. Francis! I was just trying to return the library key to the Seminary staff room, and I ended up having an hour long lunch with three nuns from Songea. One is from Ethiopia (one of my favorite countries ever since 4th grade) and two are from India. They run the ‘”de Paul” schools near Songea and offered to be a rest stop and curry supplier every time we bike into Songea, and I fully intend to take them up on that offer. We had a really great talk about education, about Ethiopia, about Tanzania, about India, and about food! Plus, they brought apples and “mango pickle” (really good, spicy mango/chili sauce)!
Also, if I have not informed you, the school year here doesn’t really line up with our school year in America. In other words, now that I’ve taught for a little over a month, it’s time for summer vacation (no class for the next two months). Don’t worry, I actually have other work to do (and some travelling to be detailed soon). However, this does mean I recently had my last class of the year. We spent most of it reviewing for their big exam, and they really brought a lot of energy and responded to questions enthusiastically (not a norm for them). Thus, I had to fulfill my promise. I had to show them how to stand on one finger.
Naturally, I had to ham it up a little extra, so I offered to do it on the teacher desk so all 69 could see. Please note, this desk was not necessarily new and may not have had all legs screwed in fully…Don’t worry, I didn’t break the desk and have to spend my travelling money to replace it (a thought that did cross my mind- they deserved the risk though). I told the students in front they’d have to catch me if I fell, and they backed up…we’re still working on trust. So, I put my finger on the desk and stepped on it. I wish there was a way to make that less anti-climatic via typing, but honestly, that’s all I did. I was worried that this play on English words wouldn’t quite click, but a large portion of them laughed almost instantly, and the rest did when I quickly explained! Some educators may say this is just “Vegas for Vegas’ sake” (see Teach Like a Champion) or that it’s taking away their intrinsic motivation to learn and work hard, but I say it’s my way of showing them how serious I am about wanting them to get into their education and to realize that it can something different than they’ve ever known. Either way, as I left for the final time, the class clapped. Yeah, they clapped! I know it was for the stupid human trick, but part of me wants to think it was also something to the effect of “Hey, we can tell you really tried this term. Hopefully we all meet again next term so we can try even harder together.” Then again, maybe they were just excited that they could go trick the other classes into thinking they could stand on one finger.
Friday, November 12, 2010
In the Armpit of a Stranger
*Note #1: I meant to type “divide by b” and not “divide by 2” at the end of the proof in the last blog. (Thanks Jer.) However, that’s not the “illegal step” of the proof, it’s just “Aliki’s Daily Mistake”.
*Note #2: The first sentence of this blog only makes sense if you know that I wrote this blog later the same day as the last blog post.
Apparently I jumped the gun a bit on that whole “nothing too out of the ordinary is happening” blog…today I went into Songea for the football (soccer) match between Songea’s own Majimaji (as far as I know this means “waterwater”) and the national favorite Simbas (Simba means lion).
We started our adventure with some fantastic bargain hunting, since we had some time to kill in Songea. I have been in need of some shoes for sports with more ankle support and some dress shoes for teaching so my feet don’t get quite as gross from always wearing sandals. I do not consider bartering something that I enjoy or excel at, but I must say I am pretty proud of my work today. I found the exact type of dress shoes I was hoping for, and I bartered my way down to exactly what I wanted to get them for ($10). Then, wouldn’t you know it, I found a decent pair of Nike basketball shoes (Kobe’s for anyone who cares). Last time we were in Songea, I found a pair of one of my all-time favorite basketball shoes (Reebok Questions for that same group that cares), but they were just a bit too small. This was a huge blessing, because I would have had a very difficult time watching myself turn these works of art into torn-up, reddish pieces of garbage. Today, however, I met my footwear destiny. Sign number 1: The shoes had been customized. What did the previous owner choose to represent, you ask? “MPLS”. Yep, the good old 612 is alive and well here in Tanzania (consider this my “Great American Influence”, in addition to the Minnesota Lynx jersey I saw a guy wearing). Sign number 2: accidental bartering success. I legitimately wasn’t sure if I wanted them, and apparently this came off as me playing some serious hardball with the salesman, because I walked away having paid half of his original asking price! Hizzah!
To point out, this is a magical country in my eyes when it comes to making purchases. I have a special place in my heart for thrift stores, and, as one Br. Nick Kleespie so poignantly pointed out, “Tanzania is like one big thrift store.” It’s great! Things are cheap (partly because of the exchange rate and the fact that most things are used), and there are all sorts of gems- from ridiculous flower printed windbreakers to beautiful pairs of Nike Air Force 1’s. Speaking of which, on one last footwear-related note, there will be future footwear purchases here that put today’s purchases to shame, and I am not talking about Air Force 1’s…
Oh yeah, and then there was the football match. Mike had just purchased a pretty sweet Cameroon jersey, and the moment we walked into the stadium, we realized that was not going to fly. Simba fans and merchandise peddlers flocked to us, and shouted/ blew into their vuvuzelas (yeah, those wonderfully obnoxious horns from the World Cup) until Mike bought a Simba jersey. And then Teresa (volunteer from Austria) had to buy one. Naturally, I had to follow suit. (This made me feel a lot better about the decision I had just made to not buy a sweet Ghana jersey). Once we put the jerseys on, it was pretty sweet to have all of the fans that had already arrived cheering for us, and we even got gestures of thanks from people down on the field who appeared to be Simba staff of some sort. We like to think we saved a minor riot from occurring.
Luckily, we found Br. Pius, Br. Kastor, and a St. B’s teacher right away and sat with them. The stadium is pretty sizable, so it wasn’t full, but there were some pretty dense mobs of people at the entrance when we went in, so the riot police were on high alert. Sitting there waiting for the game to start, it was quite the sight to see the stadium surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers, with gorgeous mountains right behind.
The first half ended with a score of 0-0, which seemed to be somewhat of a surprise (the Simbas were pretty sizable favorites, as they apparently always beat Majimaji). With 15 minutes left in the match, the Simbas finally scored, which was followed quickly by another Simba goal. This was, for the record, the most advanced level of soccer I’ve ever seen live (surpassing the village game I watched earlier this week), and it was pretty awesome. The crowd went mildly nuts afterward, and the numerous riot police did a pretty solid job of making mobs of excited fans run simultaneously to a different part of the stadium to continue celebrating.
The one detail we hadn’t really planned was our return to Hanga. Busses don’t really run after dark, and the game ended around 6:30…We figured that we’d go with the whole Tanzanian idea of “hamna shida” and assume it would work out. Luckily, it did, as Br. Pius came to the rescue and led us to the place where the extra bus specifically because of the match was picking people up. It was a small bus that would probably seat no more than 20 in its already cramped seats. In true Tanzanian style, I would estimate we crammed in closer to 40 people (5 people had some part of their bodies on or above the double seat I was on). Luckily for me, I’ve been working on being comfortable being uncomfortable (more being out of the “comfort zone”, but I got literal practice tonight). Anyway, we all had our own adventures. Mike had to stand for a portion. Teresa got to hold a crying baby with an over-active bladder. I got to hold 3 pairs of shoes (Mike bought one too), while my knees we crunched together and into the metal rod in the seat in front of me by the 3 pairs of legs pressing against my own (I wish I could explain how this was physically possible- all I know is that it happened). All the while my head was planted firmly in or around the vicinity of a stranger’s armpit. How did I pass the time in this unexpected position? I wrote this very blog in my head. So, here’s to you, reader, for giving me something to distract me from a face full of armpit. After many stops and people getting off, the physical position got much better, and all we had left to endure was a bumpier road, a man who refused to believe we didn’t speak Swahili (more likely he enjoyed saying things to us that he didn’t think we’d understand), and a small tiff between passengers.
Honestly, I loved the whole experience, as got to feel the evening breeze on my face (when my armpit friend wasn’t in the way) and really get a piece of what life is like here outside of the monastery. Plus, it reminded me of that wonderful song, “What if God was one of us? Just a stranger on the bus…”. Hmm, I don’t know about that particular bus, but maybe my armpit friend was an angel. That reminds me of a Sarah McLaughlin song…
*Note #2: The first sentence of this blog only makes sense if you know that I wrote this blog later the same day as the last blog post.
Apparently I jumped the gun a bit on that whole “nothing too out of the ordinary is happening” blog…today I went into Songea for the football (soccer) match between Songea’s own Majimaji (as far as I know this means “waterwater”) and the national favorite Simbas (Simba means lion).
We started our adventure with some fantastic bargain hunting, since we had some time to kill in Songea. I have been in need of some shoes for sports with more ankle support and some dress shoes for teaching so my feet don’t get quite as gross from always wearing sandals. I do not consider bartering something that I enjoy or excel at, but I must say I am pretty proud of my work today. I found the exact type of dress shoes I was hoping for, and I bartered my way down to exactly what I wanted to get them for ($10). Then, wouldn’t you know it, I found a decent pair of Nike basketball shoes (Kobe’s for anyone who cares). Last time we were in Songea, I found a pair of one of my all-time favorite basketball shoes (Reebok Questions for that same group that cares), but they were just a bit too small. This was a huge blessing, because I would have had a very difficult time watching myself turn these works of art into torn-up, reddish pieces of garbage. Today, however, I met my footwear destiny. Sign number 1: The shoes had been customized. What did the previous owner choose to represent, you ask? “MPLS”. Yep, the good old 612 is alive and well here in Tanzania (consider this my “Great American Influence”, in addition to the Minnesota Lynx jersey I saw a guy wearing). Sign number 2: accidental bartering success. I legitimately wasn’t sure if I wanted them, and apparently this came off as me playing some serious hardball with the salesman, because I walked away having paid half of his original asking price! Hizzah!
To point out, this is a magical country in my eyes when it comes to making purchases. I have a special place in my heart for thrift stores, and, as one Br. Nick Kleespie so poignantly pointed out, “Tanzania is like one big thrift store.” It’s great! Things are cheap (partly because of the exchange rate and the fact that most things are used), and there are all sorts of gems- from ridiculous flower printed windbreakers to beautiful pairs of Nike Air Force 1’s. Speaking of which, on one last footwear-related note, there will be future footwear purchases here that put today’s purchases to shame, and I am not talking about Air Force 1’s…
Oh yeah, and then there was the football match. Mike had just purchased a pretty sweet Cameroon jersey, and the moment we walked into the stadium, we realized that was not going to fly. Simba fans and merchandise peddlers flocked to us, and shouted/ blew into their vuvuzelas (yeah, those wonderfully obnoxious horns from the World Cup) until Mike bought a Simba jersey. And then Teresa (volunteer from Austria) had to buy one. Naturally, I had to follow suit. (This made me feel a lot better about the decision I had just made to not buy a sweet Ghana jersey). Once we put the jerseys on, it was pretty sweet to have all of the fans that had already arrived cheering for us, and we even got gestures of thanks from people down on the field who appeared to be Simba staff of some sort. We like to think we saved a minor riot from occurring.
Luckily, we found Br. Pius, Br. Kastor, and a St. B’s teacher right away and sat with them. The stadium is pretty sizable, so it wasn’t full, but there were some pretty dense mobs of people at the entrance when we went in, so the riot police were on high alert. Sitting there waiting for the game to start, it was quite the sight to see the stadium surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers, with gorgeous mountains right behind.
The first half ended with a score of 0-0, which seemed to be somewhat of a surprise (the Simbas were pretty sizable favorites, as they apparently always beat Majimaji). With 15 minutes left in the match, the Simbas finally scored, which was followed quickly by another Simba goal. This was, for the record, the most advanced level of soccer I’ve ever seen live (surpassing the village game I watched earlier this week), and it was pretty awesome. The crowd went mildly nuts afterward, and the numerous riot police did a pretty solid job of making mobs of excited fans run simultaneously to a different part of the stadium to continue celebrating.
The one detail we hadn’t really planned was our return to Hanga. Busses don’t really run after dark, and the game ended around 6:30…We figured that we’d go with the whole Tanzanian idea of “hamna shida” and assume it would work out. Luckily, it did, as Br. Pius came to the rescue and led us to the place where the extra bus specifically because of the match was picking people up. It was a small bus that would probably seat no more than 20 in its already cramped seats. In true Tanzanian style, I would estimate we crammed in closer to 40 people (5 people had some part of their bodies on or above the double seat I was on). Luckily for me, I’ve been working on being comfortable being uncomfortable (more being out of the “comfort zone”, but I got literal practice tonight). Anyway, we all had our own adventures. Mike had to stand for a portion. Teresa got to hold a crying baby with an over-active bladder. I got to hold 3 pairs of shoes (Mike bought one too), while my knees we crunched together and into the metal rod in the seat in front of me by the 3 pairs of legs pressing against my own (I wish I could explain how this was physically possible- all I know is that it happened). All the while my head was planted firmly in or around the vicinity of a stranger’s armpit. How did I pass the time in this unexpected position? I wrote this very blog in my head. So, here’s to you, reader, for giving me something to distract me from a face full of armpit. After many stops and people getting off, the physical position got much better, and all we had left to endure was a bumpier road, a man who refused to believe we didn’t speak Swahili (more likely he enjoyed saying things to us that he didn’t think we’d understand), and a small tiff between passengers.
Honestly, I loved the whole experience, as got to feel the evening breeze on my face (when my armpit friend wasn’t in the way) and really get a piece of what life is like here outside of the monastery. Plus, it reminded me of that wonderful song, “What if God was one of us? Just a stranger on the bus…”. Hmm, I don’t know about that particular bus, but maybe my armpit friend was an angel. That reminds me of a Sarah McLaughlin song…
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Buffet Days
This is officially one of those “nothing out of the Tanzanian ordinary has happened recently” blogs, so I apologize in advance for disappointing anyone who is looking for a gripping tale of battling wild animals or saving a life or something. No, this will be another one of those, “if you’re reading this you deserve a small update and some small stories about my thoughts and experiences” kind of blogs.
Again, it is incredibly exciting to me that I have any sort of “business as usual” type of week, because that means that I do, indeed, have a small amount of structure to what I’m doing. Without further ado, here are a couple of basic teaching updates:
The one class I teach at the trade school each week…never met. The list of excuses and excuse givers is actually quite impressive. Once everyone was working in their workshops, once it was Nyerere Day, once people just plain weren’t around, and once they were supposed to have an exam. Br. Patrick assures me that next term I’ll have better luck, and I have no choice but to say “hamna shida” (same as hakuna matata!) and trust that maybe he’s right.
The one class I teach at St. B each week has been a bit of a struggle, because it is supposed to be a review of their last 2 years of math. That’s incredibly needed for about half the class, but the other class is nearly offended at how easy the material is (think of a school deciding that the whole grade, honors students included, should have one day a week of remedial math). Thus, differentiation (making sure all students are challenged to the proper degree) has been a challenge and a half. Recently, I have added “challenge” problems to the board and given students the opportunity to work on whatever they want. The students who need the review ignore the challenge, and the students bored with review do the opposite. It has really fun to see the “brighter” students get excited/frustrated about the challenges. This week I “proved” to them that 2=1. Just for fun, feel free to see if YOU can find my flaw (one of the challenge-choosers named Goodluck recently told me that he still hasn’t figured it out, but he will), so “good luck”:
Let’s say a=b.
Then a^2 = ab
Then a^2 - b^2 = ab- b^2
Then (a-b)(a+b)=b(a-b)
Divide both sides by (a-b) and you get a+b=b.
Since a=b, a+b=2b, so 2b=b.
Divide both sides by 2 and you see that 2=1.
Finally, there is my Seminary class. They are officially one week away from their end of the school year exams. When I picked up the class, they warned me that they were very behind on the material, but we just finished everything in the syllabus and now have a week for review! They seemed to enjoy learning about Frisbee (and begging me to spin in on my finger) as we learned about circumference and area of a circle. I also brought my clothes-washing basket (a plastic 5 gallon utility pail like the ones you could buy at Val’s in St. Cloud for those of you who know what I’m talking about and wanted a mental image). We were talking about the volume of a cylinder, so I naturally told them it was filled with water from my laundry and proceeded to pretend to knock it off of a table toward the class. My acting/lying skills were pretty shaky, but they definitely woke up, and this example gave me a good segue into teaching them about the ancient American sporting tradition of dumping a Gatorade bucket onto a victorious coach (I may have offered to mimic this WHEN they do well on their exams).
Overall, exam season here reminds me of how much testing can hinder actual learning, but it does provide the very tangible challenge of: “help these students pass their most feared test”. We’ll see what happens…
Finally, I should explain my title a little bit. This is where the blog could get mildly journal-y (I say could because I haven’t written the rest yet, so how can I be sure?). Anyway, after the first month of struggling with not really knowing what I’d be doing here, I kind of made a renewed commitment to putting my all into making the most of everything, and, one month later, I guess you could say I renewed this renewal. Wouldn’t you know it, this came about because of a goofy Italian veterinarian. Let’s just say our friend was very happy and ready to leave after his one month stay. This got me thinking about how pumped I will be to go home, and I re-realized there’s no reason not to have that enthusiasm every day, because every day there is important “work” to be done and there are important experiences to be had. I guess you could say I re-realized that God created each day to be a magnificent one, but it’s up to us to choose some combination of the phenomenal options we’ve been presented with to accept each gift of a phenomenal day. Example: I do not have any specific responsibilities on Wednesdays, and sometimes they feel a bit aimless, but this Wednesday, I decided to hit up all the best options of God’s buffet for that day. Mass and prayer were the meat and potatoes, my first attempt at sewing (a hole in my thrift store pants pocket) was the cream cheese wan tans, going for a great run with a wonderful breeze in the mountains was the veggie platter that was surprisingly tasty for how healthy it was, studying Swahili for longer than usual was the rib tips (slow and a lot of work for a little gain, but totally worth it), and general wonderful interactions and greeting exchanges with villagers, monks, and students made up my ice cream. It was a simple and beautiful day, and I fully intend to continue to do my best to accept the best each buffet day has to offer.
Until next time, I’ll keep searching for adventures and wild animals to spice things up, or at least I’ll keep searching for challenging math problems, because we all know they are equally exciting!
Again, it is incredibly exciting to me that I have any sort of “business as usual” type of week, because that means that I do, indeed, have a small amount of structure to what I’m doing. Without further ado, here are a couple of basic teaching updates:
The one class I teach at the trade school each week…never met. The list of excuses and excuse givers is actually quite impressive. Once everyone was working in their workshops, once it was Nyerere Day, once people just plain weren’t around, and once they were supposed to have an exam. Br. Patrick assures me that next term I’ll have better luck, and I have no choice but to say “hamna shida” (same as hakuna matata!) and trust that maybe he’s right.
The one class I teach at St. B each week has been a bit of a struggle, because it is supposed to be a review of their last 2 years of math. That’s incredibly needed for about half the class, but the other class is nearly offended at how easy the material is (think of a school deciding that the whole grade, honors students included, should have one day a week of remedial math). Thus, differentiation (making sure all students are challenged to the proper degree) has been a challenge and a half. Recently, I have added “challenge” problems to the board and given students the opportunity to work on whatever they want. The students who need the review ignore the challenge, and the students bored with review do the opposite. It has really fun to see the “brighter” students get excited/frustrated about the challenges. This week I “proved” to them that 2=1. Just for fun, feel free to see if YOU can find my flaw (one of the challenge-choosers named Goodluck recently told me that he still hasn’t figured it out, but he will), so “good luck”:
Let’s say a=b.
Then a^2 = ab
Then a^2 - b^2 = ab- b^2
Then (a-b)(a+b)=b(a-b)
Divide both sides by (a-b) and you get a+b=b.
Since a=b, a+b=2b, so 2b=b.
Divide both sides by 2 and you see that 2=1.
Finally, there is my Seminary class. They are officially one week away from their end of the school year exams. When I picked up the class, they warned me that they were very behind on the material, but we just finished everything in the syllabus and now have a week for review! They seemed to enjoy learning about Frisbee (and begging me to spin in on my finger) as we learned about circumference and area of a circle. I also brought my clothes-washing basket (a plastic 5 gallon utility pail like the ones you could buy at Val’s in St. Cloud for those of you who know what I’m talking about and wanted a mental image). We were talking about the volume of a cylinder, so I naturally told them it was filled with water from my laundry and proceeded to pretend to knock it off of a table toward the class. My acting/lying skills were pretty shaky, but they definitely woke up, and this example gave me a good segue into teaching them about the ancient American sporting tradition of dumping a Gatorade bucket onto a victorious coach (I may have offered to mimic this WHEN they do well on their exams).
Overall, exam season here reminds me of how much testing can hinder actual learning, but it does provide the very tangible challenge of: “help these students pass their most feared test”. We’ll see what happens…
Finally, I should explain my title a little bit. This is where the blog could get mildly journal-y (I say could because I haven’t written the rest yet, so how can I be sure?). Anyway, after the first month of struggling with not really knowing what I’d be doing here, I kind of made a renewed commitment to putting my all into making the most of everything, and, one month later, I guess you could say I renewed this renewal. Wouldn’t you know it, this came about because of a goofy Italian veterinarian. Let’s just say our friend was very happy and ready to leave after his one month stay. This got me thinking about how pumped I will be to go home, and I re-realized there’s no reason not to have that enthusiasm every day, because every day there is important “work” to be done and there are important experiences to be had. I guess you could say I re-realized that God created each day to be a magnificent one, but it’s up to us to choose some combination of the phenomenal options we’ve been presented with to accept each gift of a phenomenal day. Example: I do not have any specific responsibilities on Wednesdays, and sometimes they feel a bit aimless, but this Wednesday, I decided to hit up all the best options of God’s buffet for that day. Mass and prayer were the meat and potatoes, my first attempt at sewing (a hole in my thrift store pants pocket) was the cream cheese wan tans, going for a great run with a wonderful breeze in the mountains was the veggie platter that was surprisingly tasty for how healthy it was, studying Swahili for longer than usual was the rib tips (slow and a lot of work for a little gain, but totally worth it), and general wonderful interactions and greeting exchanges with villagers, monks, and students made up my ice cream. It was a simple and beautiful day, and I fully intend to continue to do my best to accept the best each buffet day has to offer.
Until next time, I’ll keep searching for adventures and wild animals to spice things up, or at least I’ll keep searching for challenging math problems, because we all know they are equally exciting!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Sr. Anna, We Hardly Knew Ye
Today marks our two month Tanziversary, and we fully intend to celebrate with some (hopefully) cold mango juice from Hanga Food Land, but it is a bittersweet day. Today also happens to be the day that Sr. Anna, one of my favorite people in this country, must depart from Hanga in order to pursue a degree in nursing. As we found out at her mini-feast last night, this is a pretty big deal, as Sr. Anna will be the first Benedictine from this part of the country to obtain a degree in nursing.
Sr. Anna is about 45, has great English, is a great teacher of Swahili, is very positive and energetic, and will be dearly missed. Not surprisingly, the majority of the content of this blog revolves around what we got to do with her this week. She always claimed to be a member of the “Hapana Pipi” Ultimate team, but she never seemed to make it to our “practices”…finally, on Tuesday, she came! I have some great photos of the time I got to play Frisbee with the coolest nun in Tanzania.
Also, yesterday we got to spend the morning doing laundry in the nuns’ yard (they have way better facilities, and they are great to hang out with. Note to self: thorough clothes-washing in Tanzania requires sunscreen (who knew I could spend a weekend at a beach without getting sunburn and then get a sunburn from doing laundry?). Then we got to sit around and hang out with Sr. Anna and Sr. Claudia (intimidating and loveable cook) as we listened to music. It was wonderful quality time with them, and my pants and shirts finally don’t have their reddish tint from the dirt! I have not, however, gotten my socks back, as Sr. Claudia saw them hanging on the line and deemed that I did not get them clean enough, so she confiscated them and told me I would get them back in mint condition tomorrow…oh boy.
Last night Mike and I spent almost 3 hours in the kitchen helping cook what we thought was a normal going-away dinner for Sr. Anna (it turns out we ended up helping cook our first Tanzanian mini-feast)! The cooking is all done with fire ovens and stoves, so it was toasty to say the least, but it was really fun. We had ventured into the once-monthly soko (market) in the village and purchased some potatoes, tomatoes, and onions to attempt to make crispy potato wedges and tomato sauce, and our addition to the meal actually turned out quite tasty (there wasn’t much left afterward, so we took that as a good sign). We tried to help with other things too, so a lot of tomatoes were peeled, some uncooked rice was sifted through in search of pieces of anything that’s not rice, and a giant ugali pot was thoroughly cleaned by yours truly (I was handed a block of wood to use to scrape off the bits of ugali that were caked onto the sides). It was fantastic!
The feast was small, but there were great people, and there was great food. It ended with a delicious cake made by the other wonderful cook, Sr. Crisillda.
We will miss Sr. Anna dearly, but we know she will go on to help even more people with her further studies, which, as CSB/SJU helped teach me, is, after all, the whole point of studying. My mango juice box will be lifted to you tonight, Sr. Anna. Safari Njema! (safe travels)
Sr. Anna is about 45, has great English, is a great teacher of Swahili, is very positive and energetic, and will be dearly missed. Not surprisingly, the majority of the content of this blog revolves around what we got to do with her this week. She always claimed to be a member of the “Hapana Pipi” Ultimate team, but she never seemed to make it to our “practices”…finally, on Tuesday, she came! I have some great photos of the time I got to play Frisbee with the coolest nun in Tanzania.
Also, yesterday we got to spend the morning doing laundry in the nuns’ yard (they have way better facilities, and they are great to hang out with. Note to self: thorough clothes-washing in Tanzania requires sunscreen (who knew I could spend a weekend at a beach without getting sunburn and then get a sunburn from doing laundry?). Then we got to sit around and hang out with Sr. Anna and Sr. Claudia (intimidating and loveable cook) as we listened to music. It was wonderful quality time with them, and my pants and shirts finally don’t have their reddish tint from the dirt! I have not, however, gotten my socks back, as Sr. Claudia saw them hanging on the line and deemed that I did not get them clean enough, so she confiscated them and told me I would get them back in mint condition tomorrow…oh boy.
Last night Mike and I spent almost 3 hours in the kitchen helping cook what we thought was a normal going-away dinner for Sr. Anna (it turns out we ended up helping cook our first Tanzanian mini-feast)! The cooking is all done with fire ovens and stoves, so it was toasty to say the least, but it was really fun. We had ventured into the once-monthly soko (market) in the village and purchased some potatoes, tomatoes, and onions to attempt to make crispy potato wedges and tomato sauce, and our addition to the meal actually turned out quite tasty (there wasn’t much left afterward, so we took that as a good sign). We tried to help with other things too, so a lot of tomatoes were peeled, some uncooked rice was sifted through in search of pieces of anything that’s not rice, and a giant ugali pot was thoroughly cleaned by yours truly (I was handed a block of wood to use to scrape off the bits of ugali that were caked onto the sides). It was fantastic!
The feast was small, but there were great people, and there was great food. It ended with a delicious cake made by the other wonderful cook, Sr. Crisillda.
We will miss Sr. Anna dearly, but we know she will go on to help even more people with her further studies, which, as CSB/SJU helped teach me, is, after all, the whole point of studying. My mango juice box will be lifted to you tonight, Sr. Anna. Safari Njema! (safe travels)
Monday, October 25, 2010
...Emotion- The Gateway to Something Good
Note: I really wanted to title this one “Pomp and Circumference” because it’s mostly about graduation, and it seemed clever, but it was pretty irrelevant, so I abstained.
The week that past was filled with work! This is not the type of statement that usually warrants an exclamation, but for me it is still a very exciting concept. In addition to classes, there was a lot of work to be done to prepare for graduation this weekend (St. B on Saturday and Seminary on Sunday). Speaking of work- you know how “budget meetings” are the typical symbol for undesirable work responsibilities? Well, I sat through one…for an hour and a half…and it was in Swahili! Awesome.
This weekend was seriously packed, so I’ll get right into it. On Saturday, St. B graduation started with Mass in the Abbey at 9:30. In addition to the swaying, clapping, and loud cheering within the Mass, we also experienced one of the coolest liturgical things I’ve seen. Some graduates grabbed a decorated basket and placed an infant inside. The infant was then handed a Bible. This is how the Bible was processed to the altar! It was just really cool. After Mass we processed through the village behind a brass band all the way to the school. We then saw some student presentations. Finally, we sat at the head table (obligatory for any mzungu) and witnessed about 3 hours of Celebration. There were student songs, dances, and comedies, as well as a handful of speeches. I couldn’t catch much of the speeches, but I’m pretty confident that the general theme was something to the effect of “don’t fegit cha keys” (see St. John’s graduation). Then, it was time for us to eat lunch at the head table of the food room (as with all celebrations, every other guest watches the head table as they eat slightly better food).
Following lunch, Mike, Teresa, and I dipped out early to catch the all important soccer match between Hanga VTC (Trade School) and Songea Boys (think Mighty Ducks vs. Hawks in The Mighty Ducks). VTC clearly had less money and discipline but also a lot more fun and fun to watch. The goalie is our friend Robert, and he is incredibly entertaining (and good). We were up 1-0 in the first half due to a sweet header, but in the last 20 minutes of the second half Songea Boys scored twice on some pretty nice shots, resulting in some great flips and a victory for Songea. It was a blast anyway, and it was actually really powerful to see the emotion displayed. VTC played with such joy and passion, and that turned to such disappointment at the end.
We headed back to St. B at night for the dance, but there were only students and we felt out of place. What did we do? Found a dance in the village of course! We mostly just danced with a bunch of kids, but they started calling all their friends over to laugh and watch as we tried to dance like them and it just got uncomfortable, so we got out of there and hung out with our favorite nun, Sr. Anna.
Sunday was the proverbial top piece of bread on this graduation-soccer-graduation sandwich of a weekend. It started with Mass at the Seminary. The Mass, scheduled for 9:00, started at 10:00. Once Mass was done at 12 we went and rested with the guest speaker. The speaker was really cool, and I got to talk to him a lot about education, the progress of Tanzania, and a little about Africa’s history in general. Then came the real show. I spent all day Friday helping the Seminarians prepare the grounds for graduation (you know, like hand picking the dead leaves off the ground and bringing them to the fire pit), and they really did some great work. They built three large, beautiful huts in less than two days! Of course, I sat at the head hut, which, while always awkward, is also always awesome because you get a great view of the performances. The show lasted 4 hours, and there were some great comedies and songs. Also, a group of students did some sort of mock-traditional African performance that was both impressive and comical. My favorite was the last performance: hip hop dance! 6 guys performed a dance to “Wall to Wall” and “Waka Waka (This is Africa)”. This marked the first time I heard “Waka Waka” in Africa, and let’s just say I was pumped! I really wanted to jump up and teach them the official dance…but we’ll get back to that.
After the performance and dinner, we headed back to the Seminary for the dance (we found out that teachers, especially ones that enjoy hanging out with their students) are more than welcome. Plus, we’ve gotten to know a few Form 4’s pretty well, and we wanted to say a proper goodbye. Unfortunately, we got caught in an impromptu staff meeting on the way (most teachers did not want to hang with the young folk). Everyone had to stand and say something about the school, and some spoke for over 20 minutes. Finally, I heard “Waka Waka” playing at the dance and pretended to get a phone call so I could leave (on second thought, this wasn’t that clever, as most would just answer the phone and talk mid-meeting). Anyway, I talked to a bunch of the Form 4’s, and then I headed in to watch the dance contest. “Waka Waka” came on again, and I had to represent what I learned from “BSP’s Best Dance Crew”, so I did it- I busted out Shakira’s official dance! This was validated when the school’s best dancer came over to learn it from me! (This was a relief as a lot of them were making fun of me because her dance is the girls’ part, and there’s actually an African male dance that goes with the song as well). Throughout the next two hours of the dance I learned a few of their dances, but I also taught/showed off the following: *heel-toe*c-walk*lean wit it rock wit it*the arm wavy thing (fahja molding). This was my attempt at my own “Great American Influence”.
Finally, I should explain the title a bit. It is part of a lyric from a song written by a good friend of mine, and it seemed fitting. I’ve experienced an incredible rollercoaster of emotions in the time I’ve been here (it seems the ZPD is a good place for that). However, I haven’t witnessed a ton of emotions from those around me. It just doesn’t seem to be very blatant in the culture here if that makes sense. However, the graduations and soccer game were packed with emotion. People were jubilant to have gotten through a very difficult part of their educational lives. People were happy for their graduating classmates. People were expressing sadness in their leaving. The soccer team went from joy to disappointment. I was sad to see people like Mozart, Benja, Berno, Edward, Freddy, and Justin go. I even got emotional seeing people going home and thinking about how long it will be until that is me. The moral of the story, however, is that this emotion-filled weekend, was fantastic. Indeed, all the emotions stirred up seemed to form the gateway to something good for all involved.
The week that past was filled with work! This is not the type of statement that usually warrants an exclamation, but for me it is still a very exciting concept. In addition to classes, there was a lot of work to be done to prepare for graduation this weekend (St. B on Saturday and Seminary on Sunday). Speaking of work- you know how “budget meetings” are the typical symbol for undesirable work responsibilities? Well, I sat through one…for an hour and a half…and it was in Swahili! Awesome.
This weekend was seriously packed, so I’ll get right into it. On Saturday, St. B graduation started with Mass in the Abbey at 9:30. In addition to the swaying, clapping, and loud cheering within the Mass, we also experienced one of the coolest liturgical things I’ve seen. Some graduates grabbed a decorated basket and placed an infant inside. The infant was then handed a Bible. This is how the Bible was processed to the altar! It was just really cool. After Mass we processed through the village behind a brass band all the way to the school. We then saw some student presentations. Finally, we sat at the head table (obligatory for any mzungu) and witnessed about 3 hours of Celebration. There were student songs, dances, and comedies, as well as a handful of speeches. I couldn’t catch much of the speeches, but I’m pretty confident that the general theme was something to the effect of “don’t fegit cha keys” (see St. John’s graduation). Then, it was time for us to eat lunch at the head table of the food room (as with all celebrations, every other guest watches the head table as they eat slightly better food).
Following lunch, Mike, Teresa, and I dipped out early to catch the all important soccer match between Hanga VTC (Trade School) and Songea Boys (think Mighty Ducks vs. Hawks in The Mighty Ducks). VTC clearly had less money and discipline but also a lot more fun and fun to watch. The goalie is our friend Robert, and he is incredibly entertaining (and good). We were up 1-0 in the first half due to a sweet header, but in the last 20 minutes of the second half Songea Boys scored twice on some pretty nice shots, resulting in some great flips and a victory for Songea. It was a blast anyway, and it was actually really powerful to see the emotion displayed. VTC played with such joy and passion, and that turned to such disappointment at the end.
We headed back to St. B at night for the dance, but there were only students and we felt out of place. What did we do? Found a dance in the village of course! We mostly just danced with a bunch of kids, but they started calling all their friends over to laugh and watch as we tried to dance like them and it just got uncomfortable, so we got out of there and hung out with our favorite nun, Sr. Anna.
Sunday was the proverbial top piece of bread on this graduation-soccer-graduation sandwich of a weekend. It started with Mass at the Seminary. The Mass, scheduled for 9:00, started at 10:00. Once Mass was done at 12 we went and rested with the guest speaker. The speaker was really cool, and I got to talk to him a lot about education, the progress of Tanzania, and a little about Africa’s history in general. Then came the real show. I spent all day Friday helping the Seminarians prepare the grounds for graduation (you know, like hand picking the dead leaves off the ground and bringing them to the fire pit), and they really did some great work. They built three large, beautiful huts in less than two days! Of course, I sat at the head hut, which, while always awkward, is also always awesome because you get a great view of the performances. The show lasted 4 hours, and there were some great comedies and songs. Also, a group of students did some sort of mock-traditional African performance that was both impressive and comical. My favorite was the last performance: hip hop dance! 6 guys performed a dance to “Wall to Wall” and “Waka Waka (This is Africa)”. This marked the first time I heard “Waka Waka” in Africa, and let’s just say I was pumped! I really wanted to jump up and teach them the official dance…but we’ll get back to that.
After the performance and dinner, we headed back to the Seminary for the dance (we found out that teachers, especially ones that enjoy hanging out with their students) are more than welcome. Plus, we’ve gotten to know a few Form 4’s pretty well, and we wanted to say a proper goodbye. Unfortunately, we got caught in an impromptu staff meeting on the way (most teachers did not want to hang with the young folk). Everyone had to stand and say something about the school, and some spoke for over 20 minutes. Finally, I heard “Waka Waka” playing at the dance and pretended to get a phone call so I could leave (on second thought, this wasn’t that clever, as most would just answer the phone and talk mid-meeting). Anyway, I talked to a bunch of the Form 4’s, and then I headed in to watch the dance contest. “Waka Waka” came on again, and I had to represent what I learned from “BSP’s Best Dance Crew”, so I did it- I busted out Shakira’s official dance! This was validated when the school’s best dancer came over to learn it from me! (This was a relief as a lot of them were making fun of me because her dance is the girls’ part, and there’s actually an African male dance that goes with the song as well). Throughout the next two hours of the dance I learned a few of their dances, but I also taught/showed off the following: *heel-toe*c-walk*lean wit it rock wit it*the arm wavy thing (fahja molding). This was my attempt at my own “Great American Influence”.
Finally, I should explain the title a bit. It is part of a lyric from a song written by a good friend of mine, and it seemed fitting. I’ve experienced an incredible rollercoaster of emotions in the time I’ve been here (it seems the ZPD is a good place for that). However, I haven’t witnessed a ton of emotions from those around me. It just doesn’t seem to be very blatant in the culture here if that makes sense. However, the graduations and soccer game were packed with emotion. People were jubilant to have gotten through a very difficult part of their educational lives. People were happy for their graduating classmates. People were expressing sadness in their leaving. The soccer team went from joy to disappointment. I was sad to see people like Mozart, Benja, Berno, Edward, Freddy, and Justin go. I even got emotional seeing people going home and thinking about how long it will be until that is me. The moral of the story, however, is that this emotion-filled weekend, was fantastic. Indeed, all the emotions stirred up seemed to form the gateway to something good for all involved.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Lessons from the Boys of Mbamba Bay
After getting a couple of weeks of actual work under our belts, it seemed about time for a vacation…Actually the other young volunteers in Hanga were taking one, and we graciously accepted their offer to join. Thus, we literally just returned from Mbamba Bay (the Tanzanian side of Lake Nyasa aka Lake Malawi). We had been told it was gorgeous there, and it turns out that people were right. In exciting news, I did get some sweet pictures. In less exciting news, none of you will see said pictures until my internet situation changes.
(First of all, for the Great American Influence:
I saw a Brian Griese Denver Broncos jersey, but that was a little out of place relative to these next three. I spotted a Charles Barkley Suns jersey, a Detlef Schrempf jersey, and a Jason Kidd jersey from the first time he was on the Mavericks! That’s on its way to becoming a pretty good 1990’s starting 5 with Griese as the waterboy.)
It was great to have a weekend to just see the beautiful sites of this wonderful country and to get away from the monastery (although we did go with two monks to make life easier) and to have a little time where we could just hang out as young adults (aka kids are great, but we needed a break from them)…Or did we?!
Again, the views were spectacular, and swimming felt great in the midst of this scorching hot time, but ironically, it was the children of Mbamba Bay that really made the trip what it was. Of course, Mike and I went on a pretty great mini-hike up some rocks today and got to a point where we could see the beautiful lake to the left and right of us and saw an 18 inch lizard and bunches of monkeys in close proximity on our way back. But again, these sites had nothing on the ridiculousness of these kids. Without further ado, the following are the tales of the lessons we learned from the young boys we met at the two beaches we went to this weekend.
Lesson 1: Those who can kind of do, attempt to teach and end up learning from the people they tried to teach.
The first day at the beach kids slowly started gathering near us, especially as we started tossing a Frisbee. Naturally, we encouraged them to join. Even though they were probably ranging from about 4 to 10, some of them could really throw. All of a sudden, when the Frisbee craze was kind of dying out, I saw a kid make a half-hearted attempted at a handstand. Perfect! This is my chance! We had already greeted them and asked their names, so further Swahili conversation was out of the question, but we could still talk through silliness. If you are thinking the handstand attempt specifically was perfect because of my math class antics…you are incorrect, although that does mean you’ve been reading carefully, so thanks! Actually, headstand competitions are a staple during our annual Cooper Crew camping gathering at the beach. I often get pretty dominated in said competition, but I have been studying the form of one Jake Kappel, and I was confident that I could teach these kids how to do a good headstand/at least make a fool of myself and get them to do the same.
So, I hopped to it, knelt down, put my head and hands in the sand, put my knees on my elbows, and straightened my legs into the air for a solid two seconds before flopping over into the water! By the time I got the water out of my eyes, there were three kids doing headstands as stiff as a board. Clearly, they were showing me how it was done. In honor of the Cooper Crew, we had a contest, and I lasted for about 2 seconds (I was pleased). One kid lasted like 12 seconds. What happened next was one of those “this can’t be real life” moments. The third and final member of this contest was a kid no older than four that kind of looked like he still had some baby fat (honestly, he looked like a toddle Ice Cube). He assumed headstand position and held it, and held it, and held it. We were counting in Swahili, and we got to the point where they switched for English for me because the numbers were too high! When he got to a minute I put the Frisbee on his perfectly flat feet and he started laughing and fell. The kid lasted a minute! Oh yeah, and he was naked! A lot of the kids took off their clothes to go swimming, so this wasn’t relatively out of the ordinary. However, as he neared a minute, it hit me that I could now say I’ve seen a naked Tanzanian boy do a headstand for a minute, and that’s just crazy!
Lesson 2: Don’t rock the boat.
As our first day at the beach neared an end, our new young friends wanted to thank us for playing with them, teaching them to throw a Frisbee, and getting worked at headstands, so they offered us some boat rides. When I say boat, I mean hollowed out log with sticks as paddles. Yep, that happened. My hips were too wide to fit into this log (too much rice!), so I balanced my bottom on the two sides…for a while. Then I proceeded to tip the boat. They kind of laughed, but then I realized how much trouble I caused them. They don’t have a fancy system to get the water out of the boat. They tip it up, and then they move it side to side as water slowly splashes out. Luckily, it turns out the Frisbee is a great scooper, and they had the boat ready for a much more successful round two in no time. Again, just a generally ridiculous experience.
Lesson 3: How to eat an unripe mango.
I love mangoes! Mangoes are all over this country! The only problem is that we are still a month or two away from mango season. That didn’t stop the kids at our second beach. They munched on mangoes throughout the day, so Mike and I finally approached with our own mini-mangoes from the tree and asked if they’d show how they eat them.
Step 1: Hit the tip against a rock.
Step 2: Bite off and spit out tip.
Step 3: Find a good stick that has spoon and knife-like qualities, and dig out the pit as best you can.
Step 4: Wash the partially hollowed mango in the lake (you know, the lake where people swim, wash themselves, wash their clothes, and relieve themselves).
Step 5: Break the mango in half.
Step 6: Use your stick to scoop out the salvageable and incredibly bitter bits of mango that do exist and enjoy!
It may not have been the most sanitary, but it was a good taste of what’s to come, it was a great skill to learn, and, as usual, the kids got a good laugh out of the deal.
Lesson 4: As usual, be thankful!
This whole experience has given me countless reasons to be thankful every single day so far. Some of the things I’m thankful for relate to how lucky I am to have this experience, and some of them related to how lucky I have been to have grown up where I did and been surrounded by the wonderful people I have been. The lessons and sites of this weekend were both ridiculous and beautiful, and it all reminded me, once again, to be thankful for the present moment and the life I have. Many of these kids looked like they don’t necessarily eat much more than these mangoes on a given day, and I couldn’t help but wonder where they go at night, what they do eat, what they’ll do when they grow up, and who they have that cares for them. I am so blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life, and I just can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am for that.
Anyway, I hope this goofy/suddenly somewhat sentimental blog has, if nothing else, prepared you for mango season!
(First of all, for the Great American Influence:
I saw a Brian Griese Denver Broncos jersey, but that was a little out of place relative to these next three. I spotted a Charles Barkley Suns jersey, a Detlef Schrempf jersey, and a Jason Kidd jersey from the first time he was on the Mavericks! That’s on its way to becoming a pretty good 1990’s starting 5 with Griese as the waterboy.)
It was great to have a weekend to just see the beautiful sites of this wonderful country and to get away from the monastery (although we did go with two monks to make life easier) and to have a little time where we could just hang out as young adults (aka kids are great, but we needed a break from them)…Or did we?!
Again, the views were spectacular, and swimming felt great in the midst of this scorching hot time, but ironically, it was the children of Mbamba Bay that really made the trip what it was. Of course, Mike and I went on a pretty great mini-hike up some rocks today and got to a point where we could see the beautiful lake to the left and right of us and saw an 18 inch lizard and bunches of monkeys in close proximity on our way back. But again, these sites had nothing on the ridiculousness of these kids. Without further ado, the following are the tales of the lessons we learned from the young boys we met at the two beaches we went to this weekend.
Lesson 1: Those who can kind of do, attempt to teach and end up learning from the people they tried to teach.
The first day at the beach kids slowly started gathering near us, especially as we started tossing a Frisbee. Naturally, we encouraged them to join. Even though they were probably ranging from about 4 to 10, some of them could really throw. All of a sudden, when the Frisbee craze was kind of dying out, I saw a kid make a half-hearted attempted at a handstand. Perfect! This is my chance! We had already greeted them and asked their names, so further Swahili conversation was out of the question, but we could still talk through silliness. If you are thinking the handstand attempt specifically was perfect because of my math class antics…you are incorrect, although that does mean you’ve been reading carefully, so thanks! Actually, headstand competitions are a staple during our annual Cooper Crew camping gathering at the beach. I often get pretty dominated in said competition, but I have been studying the form of one Jake Kappel, and I was confident that I could teach these kids how to do a good headstand/at least make a fool of myself and get them to do the same.
So, I hopped to it, knelt down, put my head and hands in the sand, put my knees on my elbows, and straightened my legs into the air for a solid two seconds before flopping over into the water! By the time I got the water out of my eyes, there were three kids doing headstands as stiff as a board. Clearly, they were showing me how it was done. In honor of the Cooper Crew, we had a contest, and I lasted for about 2 seconds (I was pleased). One kid lasted like 12 seconds. What happened next was one of those “this can’t be real life” moments. The third and final member of this contest was a kid no older than four that kind of looked like he still had some baby fat (honestly, he looked like a toddle Ice Cube). He assumed headstand position and held it, and held it, and held it. We were counting in Swahili, and we got to the point where they switched for English for me because the numbers were too high! When he got to a minute I put the Frisbee on his perfectly flat feet and he started laughing and fell. The kid lasted a minute! Oh yeah, and he was naked! A lot of the kids took off their clothes to go swimming, so this wasn’t relatively out of the ordinary. However, as he neared a minute, it hit me that I could now say I’ve seen a naked Tanzanian boy do a headstand for a minute, and that’s just crazy!
Lesson 2: Don’t rock the boat.
As our first day at the beach neared an end, our new young friends wanted to thank us for playing with them, teaching them to throw a Frisbee, and getting worked at headstands, so they offered us some boat rides. When I say boat, I mean hollowed out log with sticks as paddles. Yep, that happened. My hips were too wide to fit into this log (too much rice!), so I balanced my bottom on the two sides…for a while. Then I proceeded to tip the boat. They kind of laughed, but then I realized how much trouble I caused them. They don’t have a fancy system to get the water out of the boat. They tip it up, and then they move it side to side as water slowly splashes out. Luckily, it turns out the Frisbee is a great scooper, and they had the boat ready for a much more successful round two in no time. Again, just a generally ridiculous experience.
Lesson 3: How to eat an unripe mango.
I love mangoes! Mangoes are all over this country! The only problem is that we are still a month or two away from mango season. That didn’t stop the kids at our second beach. They munched on mangoes throughout the day, so Mike and I finally approached with our own mini-mangoes from the tree and asked if they’d show how they eat them.
Step 1: Hit the tip against a rock.
Step 2: Bite off and spit out tip.
Step 3: Find a good stick that has spoon and knife-like qualities, and dig out the pit as best you can.
Step 4: Wash the partially hollowed mango in the lake (you know, the lake where people swim, wash themselves, wash their clothes, and relieve themselves).
Step 5: Break the mango in half.
Step 6: Use your stick to scoop out the salvageable and incredibly bitter bits of mango that do exist and enjoy!
It may not have been the most sanitary, but it was a good taste of what’s to come, it was a great skill to learn, and, as usual, the kids got a good laugh out of the deal.
Lesson 4: As usual, be thankful!
This whole experience has given me countless reasons to be thankful every single day so far. Some of the things I’m thankful for relate to how lucky I am to have this experience, and some of them related to how lucky I have been to have grown up where I did and been surrounded by the wonderful people I have been. The lessons and sites of this weekend were both ridiculous and beautiful, and it all reminded me, once again, to be thankful for the present moment and the life I have. Many of these kids looked like they don’t necessarily eat much more than these mangoes on a given day, and I couldn’t help but wonder where they go at night, what they do eat, what they’ll do when they grow up, and who they have that cares for them. I am so blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life, and I just can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am for that.
Anyway, I hope this goofy/suddenly somewhat sentimental blog has, if nothing else, prepared you for mango season!
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Thumbs Up Teaching Techniques
I figure that, every once in a while, you deserve an update on the reason I’m here- teaching. My main teaching focus this term, as I’ve mentioned, is my Form 1 Mathematics class at the Seminary. Within the 69 students I have, not surprisingly, some who breeze through, some who sleep through, and two who look exactly like younger Dwayne Wades (okay, that part was more surprising). Anyway, it is up to me to help a) improve their math b) improve their English c) get them to not hate math d) keep them awake e) improve their higher level thinking skills. Let’s just say this task will require some experimenting.
Last class we talked about how to divide by fractions (multiply by the reciprocal). I busted out “reFLIProcal” to help them remember that you flip the fraction, but it wasn’t really sticking. *Disclaimer: What I’m about to describe may have been quite the opposite of a good teaching technique, but it felt necessary at the time.
It was a Friday and a lot of them were starting to doze (most of the ones who struggle with English the most). Thus, as I started to explain that it’s as simple as me switching from standing on my feet to standing on my hands, I got a questionable idea. It seemed mild bribery was the way to go. Thus, I promised to stand on my hands at the end of class if, after going the whole 80 minute class, the students could loudly tell me what you do when dividing by a fraction (“Multiply by the RECIPROCAL”). Naturally, they remembered (although I did hear some “reFLIProcal”s). Let’s just say my hands were stood on a cheering/laughter ensued as I fell into the blackboard. (No mzungus were injured in the making of this memory). Shameless, I know, but it happened.
Other than that instance at the end, however, the students are still slow to catch on to the whole “100% participation”/active participation, so what did I do? I went with what worked of course. That’s right, one more small bribe (they really were “deals” more than bribes”). I happened to mention that I can stand on one finger (better than I can on my hands actually), and they definitely woke up. However, they don’t get to see this feat until participation in class and on homework attempts picks up. We’ll see what happens…
Oh yeah, and I even busted out an educational idea that I had back in my days in the Education Department at CSB/SJU. I taught one class back then, and I taught it on absolute values. I like describing absolute values as “doors of positivity”. No matter how things start, when they come through the doors, they are positive. My plan is to eventually label my classroom doorway as such in order to cheesily help create a positive atmosphere, but I don’t have my own classroom here, so that will have to wait. Anyway, I did still use the doorway as my example. I explained the notion, and they were close to getting it, so I ran out the door and peeked in the window. I explained that I was negative as I frowned/gave thumbs down, then I ran through the “doors of positivity” and had a smile/thumbs up. After a few rounds, by the time I would enter the room the students would great me with a thumbs up and shouts of “Positive!” I think it was the first analogy-type thing they’ve understood! After the handstand, as I departed from class, they shouted, “Aliki!” As I turned to see what their question was, thinking, “Yes! A Question!”, they grinned and gave a thumbs up (a general sign of acceptance around here).
I’m not going to lie, it felt kind of good. More than the acceptance (who doesn’t want to be accepted) I was pumped about the idea that maybe, just maybe, we can do something here. Now when I see them they laugh and throw me a thumbs up. It’s hard to read if it’s mild mocking because they think I’m ridiculous or if it’s genuine, but I’m fine either way.
In sports news, we’ve had a couple of decent volleyball games recently, and a bunch of seminarians are interested in and getting decent at throwing Frisbees. Get ready Nairobi!
*Great American Influence: The other day I was shooting hoops with one student from St. B’s, and he started talking to me about American hip hop. I swear to you, I had the most in depth conversation about Lil’ Wayne’s musical abilities that I have ever had (the kid was using words like “bass” and “tenor”). Of course, he later stated that he likes Kanye West because of how he moves his hands when he raps…
Last class we talked about how to divide by fractions (multiply by the reciprocal). I busted out “reFLIProcal” to help them remember that you flip the fraction, but it wasn’t really sticking. *Disclaimer: What I’m about to describe may have been quite the opposite of a good teaching technique, but it felt necessary at the time.
It was a Friday and a lot of them were starting to doze (most of the ones who struggle with English the most). Thus, as I started to explain that it’s as simple as me switching from standing on my feet to standing on my hands, I got a questionable idea. It seemed mild bribery was the way to go. Thus, I promised to stand on my hands at the end of class if, after going the whole 80 minute class, the students could loudly tell me what you do when dividing by a fraction (“Multiply by the RECIPROCAL”). Naturally, they remembered (although I did hear some “reFLIProcal”s). Let’s just say my hands were stood on a cheering/laughter ensued as I fell into the blackboard. (No mzungus were injured in the making of this memory). Shameless, I know, but it happened.
Other than that instance at the end, however, the students are still slow to catch on to the whole “100% participation”/active participation, so what did I do? I went with what worked of course. That’s right, one more small bribe (they really were “deals” more than bribes”). I happened to mention that I can stand on one finger (better than I can on my hands actually), and they definitely woke up. However, they don’t get to see this feat until participation in class and on homework attempts picks up. We’ll see what happens…
Oh yeah, and I even busted out an educational idea that I had back in my days in the Education Department at CSB/SJU. I taught one class back then, and I taught it on absolute values. I like describing absolute values as “doors of positivity”. No matter how things start, when they come through the doors, they are positive. My plan is to eventually label my classroom doorway as such in order to cheesily help create a positive atmosphere, but I don’t have my own classroom here, so that will have to wait. Anyway, I did still use the doorway as my example. I explained the notion, and they were close to getting it, so I ran out the door and peeked in the window. I explained that I was negative as I frowned/gave thumbs down, then I ran through the “doors of positivity” and had a smile/thumbs up. After a few rounds, by the time I would enter the room the students would great me with a thumbs up and shouts of “Positive!” I think it was the first analogy-type thing they’ve understood! After the handstand, as I departed from class, they shouted, “Aliki!” As I turned to see what their question was, thinking, “Yes! A Question!”, they grinned and gave a thumbs up (a general sign of acceptance around here).
I’m not going to lie, it felt kind of good. More than the acceptance (who doesn’t want to be accepted) I was pumped about the idea that maybe, just maybe, we can do something here. Now when I see them they laugh and throw me a thumbs up. It’s hard to read if it’s mild mocking because they think I’m ridiculous or if it’s genuine, but I’m fine either way.
In sports news, we’ve had a couple of decent volleyball games recently, and a bunch of seminarians are interested in and getting decent at throwing Frisbees. Get ready Nairobi!
*Great American Influence: The other day I was shooting hoops with one student from St. B’s, and he started talking to me about American hip hop. I swear to you, I had the most in depth conversation about Lil’ Wayne’s musical abilities that I have ever had (the kid was using words like “bass” and “tenor”). Of course, he later stated that he likes Kanye West because of how he moves his hands when he raps…
Some Therapeutic Comparisons
I was told by another volunteer here that Month 1 is the honeymoon and Month 2 is the tough part (referencing how much you’ll miss home). Well, I was missing home something fierce during Month 1, and, while I still miss home, this month I am at least keeping busy. However, I do find myself spending a lot of time thinking about everything and everyone I miss, and this blog definitely helps with that, because, in some weird way, it feels like I’m actually getting to talk to you. I guess that’s why I’m starting to write a little more often. Thus, this entry is much more a small compilation of thoughts than it is a story, but here it is. Take it or leave it.
Things I do more here than I did in the past:
*Attend prayer with monks. It was just as available at SJU, but I just always seemed a little too busy (maybe having prayer in my native language was not challenging enough).
*Do dishes! That’s right roommates, I handwash a bunch of dishes about twice a day! The nuns like to do it, but Mike and I try to help whenever we have time. And, in all fairness, I actually use dishes. This brings me to my next point…
*Eat on a regular schedule! I eat so much at all three meals at very set times (especially relative to Africa time)!
*Read. Tonight I will finish my fourth book in Tanzania, which is probably more than I would have read at this point in a normal semester (Math major- give me a break). I would have been on pace for even more, but I have slowed down in order to spend more time on Kiswahili. If you’re curious, I have read Let the Great World Spin (fascinating work of fiction that acts as a commentary on America and the interconnectedness of people), The Shadow of the Sun (the stories of a Polish reporter who spent 40 years in Africa), Teach Like a Champion (a book filled with great techniques to be a better teacher that we used for Breakthrough orientation), and The Lamb’s Supper (a book about how the book of Revelation is really a description of the Mass as Heaven on Earth). So far, I am four for four on picking phenomenal books. Next up is The Gift of Change (one of 2 books added to my luggage by Mom), and it’s very good so far. Once I finish that pesky spirituality section of the library, I’m thinking I’ll treat myself by reading my first library selection- Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. Some guy I know really likes it…
*Play soccer. No comment.
*Tell people that I live near Canada.
*Act like a professor. I caught myself advising students that they should always “start with what you know” when approaching mathematical proofs. After it came out of my mouth, I realized I should be citing the one and only Tom Sibley (whose syllabus I found taped in an Abstract Algebra book in the advanced mathematics section of the library)! Also, I usually find chalk dust all over my face and shirt by the time I’m done with class….Awesome.
There’s probably a lot more, and I could definitely make a long list of things I do less often now, but somehow that doesn’t seem as healthy (although there are plenty of good things like the following: “I use less natural resources and hurt the planet less by not driving.” and “I am not so reliant on technology.” )
Sorry this entry wasn’t super exciting. Maybe I just wanted to brag about all of the wonderful habits I’m getting into.
*Great American Influence: A good portion of the spirituality section of the library is made up of books from the SJU Liturgical Press, including a book on altar serving by my former Faculty Resident, the one and only Fr. Michael Kwatera, OSB.
Things I do more here than I did in the past:
*Attend prayer with monks. It was just as available at SJU, but I just always seemed a little too busy (maybe having prayer in my native language was not challenging enough).
*Do dishes! That’s right roommates, I handwash a bunch of dishes about twice a day! The nuns like to do it, but Mike and I try to help whenever we have time. And, in all fairness, I actually use dishes. This brings me to my next point…
*Eat on a regular schedule! I eat so much at all three meals at very set times (especially relative to Africa time)!
*Read. Tonight I will finish my fourth book in Tanzania, which is probably more than I would have read at this point in a normal semester (Math major- give me a break). I would have been on pace for even more, but I have slowed down in order to spend more time on Kiswahili. If you’re curious, I have read Let the Great World Spin (fascinating work of fiction that acts as a commentary on America and the interconnectedness of people), The Shadow of the Sun (the stories of a Polish reporter who spent 40 years in Africa), Teach Like a Champion (a book filled with great techniques to be a better teacher that we used for Breakthrough orientation), and The Lamb’s Supper (a book about how the book of Revelation is really a description of the Mass as Heaven on Earth). So far, I am four for four on picking phenomenal books. Next up is The Gift of Change (one of 2 books added to my luggage by Mom), and it’s very good so far. Once I finish that pesky spirituality section of the library, I’m thinking I’ll treat myself by reading my first library selection- Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. Some guy I know really likes it…
*Play soccer. No comment.
*Tell people that I live near Canada.
*Act like a professor. I caught myself advising students that they should always “start with what you know” when approaching mathematical proofs. After it came out of my mouth, I realized I should be citing the one and only Tom Sibley (whose syllabus I found taped in an Abstract Algebra book in the advanced mathematics section of the library)! Also, I usually find chalk dust all over my face and shirt by the time I’m done with class….Awesome.
There’s probably a lot more, and I could definitely make a long list of things I do less often now, but somehow that doesn’t seem as healthy (although there are plenty of good things like the following: “I use less natural resources and hurt the planet less by not driving.” and “I am not so reliant on technology.” )
Sorry this entry wasn’t super exciting. Maybe I just wanted to brag about all of the wonderful habits I’m getting into.
*Great American Influence: A good portion of the spirituality section of the library is made up of books from the SJU Liturgical Press, including a book on altar serving by my former Faculty Resident, the one and only Fr. Michael Kwatera, OSB.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Where's My Ukulele?
This is a very exciting blog, as it marks the first in possibly a long line of blogs that is merely a quick story from an otherwise ordinary day. The exciting part is that this implies I am at a point where I have “ordinary days” that involve work! Yep, today I went to the early, English Mass, and then I taught for 80 minutes, and then I graded homework for 4 hours. The grading had to be done immediately, as they turn in their whole notebooks, so they needed them back to do my new homework! Anyway, it was pretty much a typical day…and then the afternoon came.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m not really seeking work at St. Laurent’s Primary School because, well, it’s a primary school. The last time I worked with upwards of 60 elementary school kids it involved my baritone ukulele (which I can’t play), an Irish folk song (which I messed up), and some awesomely absurd banter between the students and myself. Today I worked with over 60 students from “Standard 4” (the age of our 3rd graders). I was armed with no ukulele this time, and the lesson was hygiene.
I had kind of helped with this same lesson (taught by an Italian volunteer here primarily to teach monks to make cheese!) last week, but I was one of 5 helpers and really had no role other than crowd control. Today, I was the only available reinforcement. For the sake of being mildly politically correct, let’s just say that the main ideas of the (2 hour!) lesson was that you should wash your hands, boil your milk and water, cover your cough, check your…feces…and go to the doctor. Kiara (the Italian) struggles a little with English, so I got to write some pretty great pointers on the board for her, and I got to teach her the English word “poop”. It was such a wonderfully innocent and funny moment, and the kids seemed to appreciate her animation…at first…
After a while, they decided they wanted to prove many educational theorists (and probably most of you reading this) right- 8-10 year olds probably shouldn’t be asked to do the same thing for 2 hours straight, especially when they don’t really understand the language and don’t all have chairs…
She got through her lecture, but the attempt at group poster-making turned into mass chaos, including an attempt made by me to teach them the meaning of “summary” by summarizing Noah’s Ark. Yep, that confused them pretty substantially, and most went on to copy the factsheets verbatim onto the posters. Anyway, the volume level slowly rose, colored pencils were fought over, and desks were broken (I would explain, but I just saw kids on the floor laughing). It was nuts, and there were no adults in sight. Kiara was stressing, and I was loving the chaos. Every once in a while she would yell and they would settle down. Then the energy rose. Then I would bust out a good old “If you can hear my voice, clap once”, and they’d give me their attention. Then I would realize I didn’t know what they were actually supposed to be doing.
Eventually, enough had finished their work that I brought them to the front of the room (those that hadn’t walked out mid-lesson- no telling how many or where they went). I thought hard about what I could do. I quickly realized that the very experience that had vaguely prepared me for this was the experience I would draw from. So, I used what I learned from Breakthrough Saint Paul. Literally, I taught the kids our Breakthrough Spirit Check. This is simply a pattern of clapping and leg-slapping, but it provided great practice for their English numbers, distraction, and probably an equal amount of noise. After a good deal of time, they had it, and they were even learning to yell, “Breakthrough!” at the end instead of “Heyyyyyy!” I have to say it warmed my heart and, luckily enough, brought a little order to the madness.
Being naïve, I thought the job was done once Kiara yelled, “Okay! Lesson’s over! You can go play!” Our walk back to the monastery would be about 5 minutes at the most…or would it?! Not only did our new students follow us and stop us constantly as we tried to walk, but so did hordes of other students that had been playing. We were mobbed and had no choice but to embrace it. They wanted to touch our skin. They wanted to ask if I knew soccer players (It turns out answering, “Yes” is the easiest option”. They wanted to teach us Kiswahili. They wanted to learn English. Most importantly, they wanted me to dance like Michael Jackson with them!
A surreal 45 minutes later, we made it back for a couple of Cokes and some long, deep breaths. Just imagine the chaos I could have helped foster had I actually known what was going on….Oh yeah, and don’t forget to wash your hands WHEN?... (Correct answer: before you eat and after you use the toilet! If you switch the before and after like the students, then you aren’t doing a lot of good).
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’m not really seeking work at St. Laurent’s Primary School because, well, it’s a primary school. The last time I worked with upwards of 60 elementary school kids it involved my baritone ukulele (which I can’t play), an Irish folk song (which I messed up), and some awesomely absurd banter between the students and myself. Today I worked with over 60 students from “Standard 4” (the age of our 3rd graders). I was armed with no ukulele this time, and the lesson was hygiene.
I had kind of helped with this same lesson (taught by an Italian volunteer here primarily to teach monks to make cheese!) last week, but I was one of 5 helpers and really had no role other than crowd control. Today, I was the only available reinforcement. For the sake of being mildly politically correct, let’s just say that the main ideas of the (2 hour!) lesson was that you should wash your hands, boil your milk and water, cover your cough, check your…feces…and go to the doctor. Kiara (the Italian) struggles a little with English, so I got to write some pretty great pointers on the board for her, and I got to teach her the English word “poop”. It was such a wonderfully innocent and funny moment, and the kids seemed to appreciate her animation…at first…
After a while, they decided they wanted to prove many educational theorists (and probably most of you reading this) right- 8-10 year olds probably shouldn’t be asked to do the same thing for 2 hours straight, especially when they don’t really understand the language and don’t all have chairs…
She got through her lecture, but the attempt at group poster-making turned into mass chaos, including an attempt made by me to teach them the meaning of “summary” by summarizing Noah’s Ark. Yep, that confused them pretty substantially, and most went on to copy the factsheets verbatim onto the posters. Anyway, the volume level slowly rose, colored pencils were fought over, and desks were broken (I would explain, but I just saw kids on the floor laughing). It was nuts, and there were no adults in sight. Kiara was stressing, and I was loving the chaos. Every once in a while she would yell and they would settle down. Then the energy rose. Then I would bust out a good old “If you can hear my voice, clap once”, and they’d give me their attention. Then I would realize I didn’t know what they were actually supposed to be doing.
Eventually, enough had finished their work that I brought them to the front of the room (those that hadn’t walked out mid-lesson- no telling how many or where they went). I thought hard about what I could do. I quickly realized that the very experience that had vaguely prepared me for this was the experience I would draw from. So, I used what I learned from Breakthrough Saint Paul. Literally, I taught the kids our Breakthrough Spirit Check. This is simply a pattern of clapping and leg-slapping, but it provided great practice for their English numbers, distraction, and probably an equal amount of noise. After a good deal of time, they had it, and they were even learning to yell, “Breakthrough!” at the end instead of “Heyyyyyy!” I have to say it warmed my heart and, luckily enough, brought a little order to the madness.
Being naïve, I thought the job was done once Kiara yelled, “Okay! Lesson’s over! You can go play!” Our walk back to the monastery would be about 5 minutes at the most…or would it?! Not only did our new students follow us and stop us constantly as we tried to walk, but so did hordes of other students that had been playing. We were mobbed and had no choice but to embrace it. They wanted to touch our skin. They wanted to ask if I knew soccer players (It turns out answering, “Yes” is the easiest option”. They wanted to teach us Kiswahili. They wanted to learn English. Most importantly, they wanted me to dance like Michael Jackson with them!
A surreal 45 minutes later, we made it back for a couple of Cokes and some long, deep breaths. Just imagine the chaos I could have helped foster had I actually known what was going on….Oh yeah, and don’t forget to wash your hands WHEN?... (Correct answer: before you eat and after you use the toilet! If you switch the before and after like the students, then you aren’t doing a lot of good).
Monday, October 4, 2010
Let the Revolution Begin
So, there are definitely armed guards in front of the schools…Don’t worry though, that’s not related to the revolution I’m talking about. No, the sighting of the armed guards marks the beginning of National Examination time for students. Form 4 (the final year of secondary/minor seminary) begins three weeks of what sounds like intensive testing, and every school in the nation is will now be guarded by armed guards to make sure no one tries to take an early peek at the tests…no pressure.
I suppose I should explain this whole revolution thing. As I have mentioned, I thoroughly enjoy sports, but not particularly soccer (the overwhelming sport of choice here). I enjoy getting exercise and getting to know the students, but I figured there had to be a better way. So I said to myself, “Kyle,”… (that’s what I call myself*)… So I said, “Kyle, you have Frisbees with you, and you should start using them more.” It turns out that this was great advice. We are currently in phase one of Tanzania’s Ultimate Revolution, which means the people of Hanga are slowly getting exposed. I know that I mentioned earlier that I love to see the smiles of people trying to throw for the first time, and that definitely still holds true. In addition, I have been blown away by how quickly people are picking up on how to throw well. By people I am referring to 1) primary school students 2) secondary school students 3) fellow volunteers and 4) you guessed it, MONKS! It’s phenomenal!
An official Hanga team is already in the making, and I think our name does a good job of describing our toughness and our sentiments. We will be called “Hapana Pipi”, which translates to “No Candy”. You see, as a white personal, you get treated pretty special by the little village kids. They have seen many tourists come and go, and they have learned that white people 1) are white (they shout “mzungu”, white literally is like them calling out “white person!”) and 2) probably have candy. Unfortunately for them, we are volunteers and never have candy for them, so we have gotten a lot of practice replying, “Hapana pipi” to their shouts of “Mzungu pipi!”.
I know you are wondering and yes, I did search the nearest organized Ultimate Frisbee before I came here. It turns out it is in Nairobi, Kenya. It just so happens that our friend Fr. Francis (see “Once a Johnnie, Always a Johnnie”) has gone to work in Nairobi, and we were hoping to visit him over our holiday in December…It looks like a little e-mail challenge may need to be sent to some people in Nairobi…
Aside for the wonderful world of sports (I also had a pretty legitimate block in volleyball today and the Bears are doing well), my biggest news is that I am dangerously close to getting into some form of a set routine! That’s right, after one week of teaching that included my workload being changed every day, I think I have my schedule settled. I did, however, teach one day of a great class, only to find out that they changed their mind and don’t want me to teach it any more. However, I think I actually might have had a small lasting impression on the men of Seminary Form 3- in an attempt partially to help them remember and partially to test their willingness to actively participate, I told them that whenever I said, “Domain!” they had to shout whether it was X or Y (relations and functions in mathematics) and make the letter with their arms. The other day I walked into the class during their down time and asked if they knew what domain referred to, and they grinned and crossed their arms to make an X. Then the biggest kid in the class grinned again, looked like he was about to start the YMCA, and said “Range”. Beautiful.
At the risk of jinxing it, here’s what my schedule looks like right now:
Monday-Teach Form 3 Math at St. B’s Secondary to the boys for 80 minutes and the girls for 40 minutes (I think it’s something weird in the scheduling that gets cancelled out later in the week, but it’s definitely difficult to try to cover the same material in half the time).
Tuesday- Teach Form 1 Math at Seminary for 80 minutes
Wednesday- Random work!
Thursday- Teach Form 1 Math at Seminary for 80 minutes, then teach Year 4 Math at the trade school for 60 minutes
Friday- Teach Form 1 Math at Seminary for 80 minutes
It seems like a lot of down time, and I would definitely be game for teaching more classes, but it’s a nice start. Plus, I dare to say I might actually still stay pretty busy the rest of this term, because when I’m not teaching I still have lessons to plan, papers to grade, a Spirituality section of the library to organize, and resource to make for teachers and students to make the library resources more accessible, a trade school donation project to help organize and advertize, sports to play/kids to get to know, prayers to attend, and a language to learn! Hizzah!
In another exciting note, I will be working with the awesome Australian couple (Roger and Julie) on the trade school stuff, and we are almost done with my first real newsletter to be sent out!
In wonderful breaking news, Alicia Keys’ “No One” is currently blaring outside my window (from the village).
I apologize for the lack of flow and order to this blog, but the other exciting news is that I went to my first graduation. I caught a packed dolla dolla bus from Hanga to Nakagugu all by myself (it cost a whole 33 cents!) and went to the pre-seminary’s day long graduation/celebration! The food was phenomenal, and the celebration was pretty great (dancing, singing, skits, and speeches).
Great American Influence: The dolla dolla money collector was wearing a Burnsville Blaze hat, which is by far the closest to home I’ve seen thusfar!
*Note: I do not call myself Kyle. This is a quote from Boy Meets World.
I suppose I should explain this whole revolution thing. As I have mentioned, I thoroughly enjoy sports, but not particularly soccer (the overwhelming sport of choice here). I enjoy getting exercise and getting to know the students, but I figured there had to be a better way. So I said to myself, “Kyle,”… (that’s what I call myself*)… So I said, “Kyle, you have Frisbees with you, and you should start using them more.” It turns out that this was great advice. We are currently in phase one of Tanzania’s Ultimate Revolution, which means the people of Hanga are slowly getting exposed. I know that I mentioned earlier that I love to see the smiles of people trying to throw for the first time, and that definitely still holds true. In addition, I have been blown away by how quickly people are picking up on how to throw well. By people I am referring to 1) primary school students 2) secondary school students 3) fellow volunteers and 4) you guessed it, MONKS! It’s phenomenal!
An official Hanga team is already in the making, and I think our name does a good job of describing our toughness and our sentiments. We will be called “Hapana Pipi”, which translates to “No Candy”. You see, as a white personal, you get treated pretty special by the little village kids. They have seen many tourists come and go, and they have learned that white people 1) are white (they shout “mzungu”, white literally is like them calling out “white person!”) and 2) probably have candy. Unfortunately for them, we are volunteers and never have candy for them, so we have gotten a lot of practice replying, “Hapana pipi” to their shouts of “Mzungu pipi!”.
I know you are wondering and yes, I did search the nearest organized Ultimate Frisbee before I came here. It turns out it is in Nairobi, Kenya. It just so happens that our friend Fr. Francis (see “Once a Johnnie, Always a Johnnie”) has gone to work in Nairobi, and we were hoping to visit him over our holiday in December…It looks like a little e-mail challenge may need to be sent to some people in Nairobi…
Aside for the wonderful world of sports (I also had a pretty legitimate block in volleyball today and the Bears are doing well), my biggest news is that I am dangerously close to getting into some form of a set routine! That’s right, after one week of teaching that included my workload being changed every day, I think I have my schedule settled. I did, however, teach one day of a great class, only to find out that they changed their mind and don’t want me to teach it any more. However, I think I actually might have had a small lasting impression on the men of Seminary Form 3- in an attempt partially to help them remember and partially to test their willingness to actively participate, I told them that whenever I said, “Domain!” they had to shout whether it was X or Y (relations and functions in mathematics) and make the letter with their arms. The other day I walked into the class during their down time and asked if they knew what domain referred to, and they grinned and crossed their arms to make an X. Then the biggest kid in the class grinned again, looked like he was about to start the YMCA, and said “Range”. Beautiful.
At the risk of jinxing it, here’s what my schedule looks like right now:
Monday-Teach Form 3 Math at St. B’s Secondary to the boys for 80 minutes and the girls for 40 minutes (I think it’s something weird in the scheduling that gets cancelled out later in the week, but it’s definitely difficult to try to cover the same material in half the time).
Tuesday- Teach Form 1 Math at Seminary for 80 minutes
Wednesday- Random work!
Thursday- Teach Form 1 Math at Seminary for 80 minutes, then teach Year 4 Math at the trade school for 60 minutes
Friday- Teach Form 1 Math at Seminary for 80 minutes
It seems like a lot of down time, and I would definitely be game for teaching more classes, but it’s a nice start. Plus, I dare to say I might actually still stay pretty busy the rest of this term, because when I’m not teaching I still have lessons to plan, papers to grade, a Spirituality section of the library to organize, and resource to make for teachers and students to make the library resources more accessible, a trade school donation project to help organize and advertize, sports to play/kids to get to know, prayers to attend, and a language to learn! Hizzah!
In another exciting note, I will be working with the awesome Australian couple (Roger and Julie) on the trade school stuff, and we are almost done with my first real newsletter to be sent out!
In wonderful breaking news, Alicia Keys’ “No One” is currently blaring outside my window (from the village).
I apologize for the lack of flow and order to this blog, but the other exciting news is that I went to my first graduation. I caught a packed dolla dolla bus from Hanga to Nakagugu all by myself (it cost a whole 33 cents!) and went to the pre-seminary’s day long graduation/celebration! The food was phenomenal, and the celebration was pretty great (dancing, singing, skits, and speeches).
Great American Influence: The dolla dolla money collector was wearing a Burnsville Blaze hat, which is by far the closest to home I’ve seen thusfar!
*Note: I do not call myself Kyle. This is a quote from Boy Meets World.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Albi the Albatross
I’ve officially been in Tanzania for 1 month, and it makes me want to SHOUT…Shout Out…To Corey Friend for often calling me Albi.
Anyway, I once mentioned that I had to get a little creative with my room. You see, there are no shelves and I failed to bring tape. Thus, pictures of family and friends are held up by Frisbees I have leaning against my walls. I also have a wonderful picture of some albatrosses (one of my new favorite birds) from a National Geographic hanging up on my curtain. It turns out, all you really need to hang up a picture is a small hole in your curtain, a twist tie, and the proper angles of bending said twist tie. It’s pretty great, because whenever I look out my window, I see my albatross friends. When the sun hits it right, I can also see an albatross and its crazy wingspan soaring through the air from the other side of the page. Finally, I actually looked at the other side. This part of the article that I ripped talks about the struggle fledglings have when they first try to take off and fly. It turns out they often try to do too much too soon and take off doesn’t fly so well (terrible pun very much intended). Well, I guess these Tanzanians are looking after this fledgling, because it has taken almost exactly a month for me to teach my first class. I’m trusting that this long wait has helped prepare me and kept me from falling flat on my face.
However, I have, indeed, taken flight (aka taught)! That’s right, I taught Form 3 Mathematics at St. B’s Secondary yesterday and Form 3 Mathematics at the Seminary today! I’m not going to lie, I was pretty darn nervous. I hardly ever get too nervous for teaching, but a month of build up can really do a lot to psych a guy out. Don’t worry though, yesterday I made sure to really set the tone in the classroom (I donned the Mr. Rogers-esque cardigan I’ve grown so fond of). Yes I did sweat up a storm, and yes, it was totally worth it. I only get to meet with the St. B’s class once each week, and we cover topics they need review on. We didn’t have much chance to get very far after my introduction and discussion of classroom expectations. I don’t think most teachers do much for classroom expectations, but I believe it is very important, so I attempted to use my general rules of “Respect” and “Invest” (borrowed from an old youth minister), but the discussion definitely turned into “I’m asking you to be nice and try hard.” Oh language barrier/lack of experience with critical thinking…
The other kind of weird thing is that I teach the boys at St. B’s for 80 minutes and the girls for 40 minutes. I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. I guess I’ll just have to talk fast…
Teaching at the Seminary today was also great! It turned out the students already knew what I was told to teach them (don’t worry, I only spent a week thinking about this lesson, since that’s when I found out what I was “supposed to teach”). They were great about it though, and they really responded to my probing them to go further with parts of the problems, and they even seemed to appreciate some of my antics (I’m not going to say I didn’t through a shoe at the door…)
Of course, as is to be expected with my current set up, the unexpected happened. The teacher who I took over for told me that he decided he will actually teach the class. This has nothing to do with how I taught or what I taught, because he doesn’t even necessarily know that I showed up today. I’m not convinced he’ll actually show up in the future, so I might prep some lessons for them just in case I see them teacherless…
Also, my work with the Trade School is steadily increasing! I’ve been working the last couple of days on a newsletter with Br. Patrick that can be sent out to update people/solicit more donations for a boys dormitory they are trying to build. They definitely need it, as they currently have 8 to 10 guys sleeping in some pretty small, rundown old rooms. I’m loving the fact that it looks like I’ll get to play a sustained role in that side of the school, and one of the Trade School math teachers said he might let me do some of his teaching! If I could get in a little bit of English teaching I would have just about my ideal combo of work. I wouldn’t normally want to teach English, but I think they could really benefit from being taught by a native speaker. Plus, it could be a cool chance to encourage them to think critically, and I have some ideas in mind…
Right now, I have a great variety of work. Most days are currently split between teaching (including lesson planning and eventually paper grading), library organization, and Trade School work. I definitely can’t complain.
As I reflect on the fact that this is my month anniversary post and it is not yet as long as many of the others, I feel this is a fitting time for me to knock on wood and list some of the things I’m thankful have not happened:
-I have not gotten The Malaria.
-I have not gotten sick of the food yet.
-I have not said anything embarrassing in Kiswahili (that I know of). - I do have to be careful, because the word for “tomato” can also be “grandmother”.
-There has been no political unrest. (Don’t worry; there are no signs of any such thing. In fact, if you research Tanzania, you will find that it is famous for its stability).
-I have not made a complete mess out of my room.
-I have not run out of anything important yet (that I know of).
*Great American Influence: A guy wearing a Yancy Thigpen jersey. This was great, especially since it reminded me of how I used to intentionally call him Nancy Pigpen.
And since I forgot last time, here’s one more: There was definitely a kid wearing silver Kanye shutter shades. Sunglasses block the sun; shutter shades block the haters…
(Insert segue here) Finally, as far as teaching goes, I was remembering a conversation I had with another volunteer when I first arrived. She told me I would be fine as long as I “don’t expect anything from my students”. Sorry ma’am, but that’s not how I work. These kids are stuck in a pretty rough educational system, but they seem great, and I am excited and (hopefully) ready for doing my little part to help them get the most they can out of it.
Anyway, I once mentioned that I had to get a little creative with my room. You see, there are no shelves and I failed to bring tape. Thus, pictures of family and friends are held up by Frisbees I have leaning against my walls. I also have a wonderful picture of some albatrosses (one of my new favorite birds) from a National Geographic hanging up on my curtain. It turns out, all you really need to hang up a picture is a small hole in your curtain, a twist tie, and the proper angles of bending said twist tie. It’s pretty great, because whenever I look out my window, I see my albatross friends. When the sun hits it right, I can also see an albatross and its crazy wingspan soaring through the air from the other side of the page. Finally, I actually looked at the other side. This part of the article that I ripped talks about the struggle fledglings have when they first try to take off and fly. It turns out they often try to do too much too soon and take off doesn’t fly so well (terrible pun very much intended). Well, I guess these Tanzanians are looking after this fledgling, because it has taken almost exactly a month for me to teach my first class. I’m trusting that this long wait has helped prepare me and kept me from falling flat on my face.
However, I have, indeed, taken flight (aka taught)! That’s right, I taught Form 3 Mathematics at St. B’s Secondary yesterday and Form 3 Mathematics at the Seminary today! I’m not going to lie, I was pretty darn nervous. I hardly ever get too nervous for teaching, but a month of build up can really do a lot to psych a guy out. Don’t worry though, yesterday I made sure to really set the tone in the classroom (I donned the Mr. Rogers-esque cardigan I’ve grown so fond of). Yes I did sweat up a storm, and yes, it was totally worth it. I only get to meet with the St. B’s class once each week, and we cover topics they need review on. We didn’t have much chance to get very far after my introduction and discussion of classroom expectations. I don’t think most teachers do much for classroom expectations, but I believe it is very important, so I attempted to use my general rules of “Respect” and “Invest” (borrowed from an old youth minister), but the discussion definitely turned into “I’m asking you to be nice and try hard.” Oh language barrier/lack of experience with critical thinking…
The other kind of weird thing is that I teach the boys at St. B’s for 80 minutes and the girls for 40 minutes. I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. I guess I’ll just have to talk fast…
Teaching at the Seminary today was also great! It turned out the students already knew what I was told to teach them (don’t worry, I only spent a week thinking about this lesson, since that’s when I found out what I was “supposed to teach”). They were great about it though, and they really responded to my probing them to go further with parts of the problems, and they even seemed to appreciate some of my antics (I’m not going to say I didn’t through a shoe at the door…)
Of course, as is to be expected with my current set up, the unexpected happened. The teacher who I took over for told me that he decided he will actually teach the class. This has nothing to do with how I taught or what I taught, because he doesn’t even necessarily know that I showed up today. I’m not convinced he’ll actually show up in the future, so I might prep some lessons for them just in case I see them teacherless…
Also, my work with the Trade School is steadily increasing! I’ve been working the last couple of days on a newsletter with Br. Patrick that can be sent out to update people/solicit more donations for a boys dormitory they are trying to build. They definitely need it, as they currently have 8 to 10 guys sleeping in some pretty small, rundown old rooms. I’m loving the fact that it looks like I’ll get to play a sustained role in that side of the school, and one of the Trade School math teachers said he might let me do some of his teaching! If I could get in a little bit of English teaching I would have just about my ideal combo of work. I wouldn’t normally want to teach English, but I think they could really benefit from being taught by a native speaker. Plus, it could be a cool chance to encourage them to think critically, and I have some ideas in mind…
Right now, I have a great variety of work. Most days are currently split between teaching (including lesson planning and eventually paper grading), library organization, and Trade School work. I definitely can’t complain.
As I reflect on the fact that this is my month anniversary post and it is not yet as long as many of the others, I feel this is a fitting time for me to knock on wood and list some of the things I’m thankful have not happened:
-I have not gotten The Malaria.
-I have not gotten sick of the food yet.
-I have not said anything embarrassing in Kiswahili (that I know of). - I do have to be careful, because the word for “tomato” can also be “grandmother”.
-There has been no political unrest. (Don’t worry; there are no signs of any such thing. In fact, if you research Tanzania, you will find that it is famous for its stability).
-I have not made a complete mess out of my room.
-I have not run out of anything important yet (that I know of).
*Great American Influence: A guy wearing a Yancy Thigpen jersey. This was great, especially since it reminded me of how I used to intentionally call him Nancy Pigpen.
And since I forgot last time, here’s one more: There was definitely a kid wearing silver Kanye shutter shades. Sunglasses block the sun; shutter shades block the haters…
(Insert segue here) Finally, as far as teaching goes, I was remembering a conversation I had with another volunteer when I first arrived. She told me I would be fine as long as I “don’t expect anything from my students”. Sorry ma’am, but that’s not how I work. These kids are stuck in a pretty rough educational system, but they seem great, and I am excited and (hopefully) ready for doing my little part to help them get the most they can out of it.
Monday, September 27, 2010
2 Hangas and an Eddie
This weekend it was our distinct honor to represent the Benedictine Volunteer Corps at the 2010 Peace Corps Songeafest. Let me just say that this experience was exactly what I was in need of. You see, the monastery is great, but we were really needing a feeling of a little bit of independence, and we totally got that by getting on the dolla dolla (packed, small bus that costs 1 USD) from Hanga to Songea alone on Sat morning, stayed there overnight, and rode back on our brand new bikes (to be explained later). After 3 full weeks in Hanga, I was also in need of a little bit of a physical reminder that the culture I’m used to still exists. Spending a large part of the weekend with 40 Americans definitely did the trick. I am so thankful for this experience, in fact, that I will now attempt to share it with all of you fine people in blog form:
We started by catching Saturday’s earliest dolla dolla, and the trip went off without a hitch (no bus trouble!) As we arrived in Songea we talked to our Peace Corps contact and were pointed in the direction of the temporary Peace Corps headquarters- the OK Hotel. It sure was. After getting some breakfast, we walked with some PCV’s (Peace Corps Volunteers) to Songea Girls’ Secondary School, aka the venue for the 3-on-3 basketball tournament. We were told that we would be on a team with Eddie, and we were promised he was “fierce”.
Arriving at the courts, I was salivating. When we play basketball with the students, it’s great. However, they play defense like its soccer, we use a ball that’s as light as a volleyball, and the hoops leave quite a bit to be desired. Here I stood, watching Americans shoot around like they knew what they were doing on a court that looked pretty nice, with a Spalding basketball. Yep, exactly what I needed.
No one really knew who we were, and plenty of jokes were made about us getting disqualified for not being a PCV. They were all actually really great about letting us join their gathering, and it turned out Eddie would be a game changer in more ways than 1. First of all, he was definitely that clever, cool, nice guy that everyone loved. Second, he was great at basketball. Third…I’m not there yet, but he definitely came in clutch.
Fast forward through three decently hard-fought games in the hot sun and team “2 Hangas and an Eddie” defeat “2 Guys, a Girl, and a Hoop Dream” in the championship! No big deal…just sayin…
We then had down time until the dinner/talent show at 6 that night, so we wandered around Songea with Eddie and a guy from Minnesota (we met three Minnesotans!). We happened to mention that we were in the market for some bikes, and Eddie stepped up big time. He used his combination of bike knowledge and Swahili knowledge to help us scope out the best deal and then bargain it down to a better deal. Thanks to our dear Eddie, I am now the proud owner of a used, bright green Peugeot (yeah, that car company!) mountain bike! He is a beut (named him Jack- see below for reasoning), and there will be pictures. This is the best fitting bike I've had since junior high. The brakes are okay, but the cool thing is they make the same loud and obnoxious noise that the bus horns do! For Brian Regan fans out there, let's just say I have a lot of "BOB! It's Okay!" moments. Oh yeah, and possibly the best part of the negotiations was when they offered to drop the price and take off the kickstand. Yep, I literally watched the owner ride my bike to a shop down the street so he could have the kickstand removed, and I watched him ride back, kickstand in hand. I knew I had made a solid purchase.
Mike and I talked to some more PCV’s and walked around Hanga for a bit, getting random errands done. We ended up back at the OK Hotel a little before 6, in part because that’s where the festivities would pick up again and in part because we still didn’t know where we were sleeping (trying to really get into this Tanzanian way of life).
Before dinner (which was great as it involved curry flavoring), we got more time just to sit and chat with different PCV’s. Here’s a list of some of the things I was reminded of in all our interactions with this bunch:
*What I’m doing right now is crazy tough for me, but it’s got nothing on what these people are doing (much more isolated, much less amenities).
*America and the reality I’m used to still exists.
*Basketball is still what I remember.
*There is a world where I can understand all conversations around me, I can tell jokes, and perfect English doesn’t need to be used in order to attempt to convey meaning.
All of these things may seem simple, but this was a pretty huge experience, as I said, just to get a chance to remove myself a little from everything for a bit.
The talent show ranged from funny to touching to talented to what in the world just happened. Mike and I were there as spectators only (no idea what I would have done). My personal favorite act was done by a man named Jack. Jack is your stereotypical PCV- slightly disheveled, free spirited, and, it turns out, hilarious and the life of the party. Anyway, he played guitar and sang “You Can Call Me Al”! Naturally, I loved the song choice, but it got better. He introduced that verse one would be sung as 1960’s Bob Dylan, verse 2 would be sung as 1970’s Bob Dylan, and the last verse would sound awful and painful (current Bob Dylan). Indeed, he delivered!
The final part of the programming was the part of American culture that has the ability to make me feel about as out of my comfort zone as being in Tanzania does- a dance party. It was a slow start, but I eventually busted out the old arm wave (“Fahja Molding”) dance. I have to say, it got me through (it was relative hit during the song “Wavin’ Flag”, which was luckily played 3 times).
We ended up staying at the OK in rooms with the PCV’s, got up, had our free breakfast, and get ready to start our pedaling adventure. 3 hours later, we had triumphantly arrived in Hanga (a 40km trek). The ride was marvelous! It felt so freeing, and we were on the move, so we didn’t have to worry about Swahili conversations that would go into more depth than the greetings we know. I can’t tell you how cool the mental snapshots are that I have of us giving a slightly crooked thumbs up (a huge hit here) to a table full of men shooting the breeze and seeing them all get huge smiles as they returned the sign in unison. As we got close, people were literally just excitedly yelling “Hanga!” It was so cool!
Our adventure has left me feeling refreshed and inspired. Hearing the Swahili of the old PCV’s made me really want to keep working on mine, because it was awesome to see the joyful reaction of the locals when they realized they could hold conversations and joke around. Also, as our talent show MC reminded us last night, the choice we have made to be here is allowing us to “live a life that doesn’t say what if”. I fully intend to keep plugging away and take advantage of this wonderful opportunity to try to do as much good as I can while I grow, and that will begin with my first day of teaching (more classes than even expected- more to come later) tomorrow!
We started by catching Saturday’s earliest dolla dolla, and the trip went off without a hitch (no bus trouble!) As we arrived in Songea we talked to our Peace Corps contact and were pointed in the direction of the temporary Peace Corps headquarters- the OK Hotel. It sure was. After getting some breakfast, we walked with some PCV’s (Peace Corps Volunteers) to Songea Girls’ Secondary School, aka the venue for the 3-on-3 basketball tournament. We were told that we would be on a team with Eddie, and we were promised he was “fierce”.
Arriving at the courts, I was salivating. When we play basketball with the students, it’s great. However, they play defense like its soccer, we use a ball that’s as light as a volleyball, and the hoops leave quite a bit to be desired. Here I stood, watching Americans shoot around like they knew what they were doing on a court that looked pretty nice, with a Spalding basketball. Yep, exactly what I needed.
No one really knew who we were, and plenty of jokes were made about us getting disqualified for not being a PCV. They were all actually really great about letting us join their gathering, and it turned out Eddie would be a game changer in more ways than 1. First of all, he was definitely that clever, cool, nice guy that everyone loved. Second, he was great at basketball. Third…I’m not there yet, but he definitely came in clutch.
Fast forward through three decently hard-fought games in the hot sun and team “2 Hangas and an Eddie” defeat “2 Guys, a Girl, and a Hoop Dream” in the championship! No big deal…just sayin…
We then had down time until the dinner/talent show at 6 that night, so we wandered around Songea with Eddie and a guy from Minnesota (we met three Minnesotans!). We happened to mention that we were in the market for some bikes, and Eddie stepped up big time. He used his combination of bike knowledge and Swahili knowledge to help us scope out the best deal and then bargain it down to a better deal. Thanks to our dear Eddie, I am now the proud owner of a used, bright green Peugeot (yeah, that car company!) mountain bike! He is a beut (named him Jack- see below for reasoning), and there will be pictures. This is the best fitting bike I've had since junior high. The brakes are okay, but the cool thing is they make the same loud and obnoxious noise that the bus horns do! For Brian Regan fans out there, let's just say I have a lot of "BOB! It's Okay!" moments. Oh yeah, and possibly the best part of the negotiations was when they offered to drop the price and take off the kickstand. Yep, I literally watched the owner ride my bike to a shop down the street so he could have the kickstand removed, and I watched him ride back, kickstand in hand. I knew I had made a solid purchase.
Mike and I talked to some more PCV’s and walked around Hanga for a bit, getting random errands done. We ended up back at the OK Hotel a little before 6, in part because that’s where the festivities would pick up again and in part because we still didn’t know where we were sleeping (trying to really get into this Tanzanian way of life).
Before dinner (which was great as it involved curry flavoring), we got more time just to sit and chat with different PCV’s. Here’s a list of some of the things I was reminded of in all our interactions with this bunch:
*What I’m doing right now is crazy tough for me, but it’s got nothing on what these people are doing (much more isolated, much less amenities).
*America and the reality I’m used to still exists.
*Basketball is still what I remember.
*There is a world where I can understand all conversations around me, I can tell jokes, and perfect English doesn’t need to be used in order to attempt to convey meaning.
All of these things may seem simple, but this was a pretty huge experience, as I said, just to get a chance to remove myself a little from everything for a bit.
The talent show ranged from funny to touching to talented to what in the world just happened. Mike and I were there as spectators only (no idea what I would have done). My personal favorite act was done by a man named Jack. Jack is your stereotypical PCV- slightly disheveled, free spirited, and, it turns out, hilarious and the life of the party. Anyway, he played guitar and sang “You Can Call Me Al”! Naturally, I loved the song choice, but it got better. He introduced that verse one would be sung as 1960’s Bob Dylan, verse 2 would be sung as 1970’s Bob Dylan, and the last verse would sound awful and painful (current Bob Dylan). Indeed, he delivered!
The final part of the programming was the part of American culture that has the ability to make me feel about as out of my comfort zone as being in Tanzania does- a dance party. It was a slow start, but I eventually busted out the old arm wave (“Fahja Molding”) dance. I have to say, it got me through (it was relative hit during the song “Wavin’ Flag”, which was luckily played 3 times).
We ended up staying at the OK in rooms with the PCV’s, got up, had our free breakfast, and get ready to start our pedaling adventure. 3 hours later, we had triumphantly arrived in Hanga (a 40km trek). The ride was marvelous! It felt so freeing, and we were on the move, so we didn’t have to worry about Swahili conversations that would go into more depth than the greetings we know. I can’t tell you how cool the mental snapshots are that I have of us giving a slightly crooked thumbs up (a huge hit here) to a table full of men shooting the breeze and seeing them all get huge smiles as they returned the sign in unison. As we got close, people were literally just excitedly yelling “Hanga!” It was so cool!
Our adventure has left me feeling refreshed and inspired. Hearing the Swahili of the old PCV’s made me really want to keep working on mine, because it was awesome to see the joyful reaction of the locals when they realized they could hold conversations and joke around. Also, as our talent show MC reminded us last night, the choice we have made to be here is allowing us to “live a life that doesn’t say what if”. I fully intend to keep plugging away and take advantage of this wonderful opportunity to try to do as much good as I can while I grow, and that will begin with my first day of teaching (more classes than even expected- more to come later) tomorrow!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Little Victories
Disclaimer: This is a spontaneous blog and not one of the ones I write in a Word Doc allowing me to get very wordy, so we'll see how it goes...
I just wanted to point out a few key ways in which things are looking up.
First of all, I've now officially done actual work! A side project I'll be working on is sorting and organizing the Spirituality section of the Seminary library. It's not a huge section, but after two days of working on it, I can tell it'll be a big task.
Also, Br. Patrick is back! I haven't gotten to talk to him about working at the trade school (the school I'm now itching to help with in any way possible), but he did send someone to ask for my phone number and e-mail address, so I'm taking it tentatively as a good sign.
Sr. Claudia made pizza for dinner the other night! It was much closer to Italian pizza (it was actually doughy bread, a little shredded cheese, and a couple tomatoes). The sisters didn't seem to like it, so I'm pretty sure Mike and I had about 15 pieces! If Sr. Claudia wasn't so intimidating I would have hugged her!
I'm currently leading the Tanzania rummy series with Mike (something like 15-14).
For the first time I went to Hanga Food Land and got COLD mango juice! (my favorite, but it's never cold)
They have Eucharistic Adoration for an hour on Thursday nights!
We got invited to SongeaFest this weekend with some PeaceCorps peeps...more to come...
Finally, I wanted to take this opportunity to quickly introduce a tentative new segment to this silly blog, one which I will call "Great American Influence". In "GAI", I will merely highlight the fairly ridiculous American effects on the people and things around me here. For some examples:
1. I saw a guy the other day wearing a Kendall Gill Nets jersey. From the logo, it had to be from either the 96-97 NBA season or older. So wonderfully obscure!
2. A girl we saw in "the bush" on our way back from the safari was wearing an old McDonald's t-shirt...I'm told there isn't one in the entire country...
3. Finally, there's a little boy that often goes to Mass wearing a Minnesota Final Four sweatshirt...All I can say is that, last I heard, that team didn't really exist...wasn't there just a Final THREE that year?...
I just wanted to point out a few key ways in which things are looking up.
First of all, I've now officially done actual work! A side project I'll be working on is sorting and organizing the Spirituality section of the Seminary library. It's not a huge section, but after two days of working on it, I can tell it'll be a big task.
Also, Br. Patrick is back! I haven't gotten to talk to him about working at the trade school (the school I'm now itching to help with in any way possible), but he did send someone to ask for my phone number and e-mail address, so I'm taking it tentatively as a good sign.
Sr. Claudia made pizza for dinner the other night! It was much closer to Italian pizza (it was actually doughy bread, a little shredded cheese, and a couple tomatoes). The sisters didn't seem to like it, so I'm pretty sure Mike and I had about 15 pieces! If Sr. Claudia wasn't so intimidating I would have hugged her!
I'm currently leading the Tanzania rummy series with Mike (something like 15-14).
For the first time I went to Hanga Food Land and got COLD mango juice! (my favorite, but it's never cold)
They have Eucharistic Adoration for an hour on Thursday nights!
We got invited to SongeaFest this weekend with some PeaceCorps peeps...more to come...
Finally, I wanted to take this opportunity to quickly introduce a tentative new segment to this silly blog, one which I will call "Great American Influence". In "GAI", I will merely highlight the fairly ridiculous American effects on the people and things around me here. For some examples:
1. I saw a guy the other day wearing a Kendall Gill Nets jersey. From the logo, it had to be from either the 96-97 NBA season or older. So wonderfully obscure!
2. A girl we saw in "the bush" on our way back from the safari was wearing an old McDonald's t-shirt...I'm told there isn't one in the entire country...
3. Finally, there's a little boy that often goes to Mass wearing a Minnesota Final Four sweatshirt...All I can say is that, last I heard, that team didn't really exist...wasn't there just a Final THREE that year?...
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Adventures in Simbaland
Well, it’s official. We went on our first safari (not like the Swahili word for travel, but the actual drive around a national park to see wild animals). Naturally, ridiculousness ensued. A lot of what I’m about to type could again be construed as me complaining, but rest assured that I am once again laughing at the awesome ridiculousness and enjoying the funky adventure.
I was well-prepared for the craziness by a couple of interesting experiences the two days before we left for the safari. Some might call it “Practicing the waiting game”. On Thursday I finally had my meeting with the Seminary about what I might be able to teach there for the rest of the term. I waited in the faculty room, and the teacher I’d be helping came pretty quickly and told me I’d start a week from Monday and I’d teach “Form 3” (the third level, but kind of more similar to our 9th grade). However, she added at the end that the Math Subject Master wanted to talk to me about helping with one more class, but that he was busy so he’d come to me. I was instructed to wait somewhere in the school, and wait I did. Over 5 hours later the school day was done, and I was still in the staff room going over the material I’d probably cover and getting lesson ideas. All of the teachers were looking at me like I was crazy for still being there, and finally, the last one told me it was time to leave…the Subject Master never came…oh well. I got good planning time, and I’ll surely run into him eventually.
On Thursday night I was told by one of the monks at the guesthouse that I would be going into Songea on Friday. We were pretty pumped, as Songea is a nearby larger city that provides a nice change of pace (and hopefully bicycles soon). However, Friday morning we learned that the WE was really ME. Apparently my passport photos for immigration forms were not sent on glossy enough paper, so I had to go into town to get photos taken and forms taken care of. I rode into town with monks going in for all sorts of other reasons and was told to wait in front of the shop that Hanga owns. Sure enough, eventually a man came up to me to take my picture (he had a lady from a shop hold up a blue sheet behind me, made sure my shirt looked nice, snapped some shots, and disappeared. It felt like a more mobile version of school picture day! Quite a while later, he showed up again with the photos I had needed. I then saw one of the monks, who told me the monk that was to work with me on the immigration forms should be arriving shortly, so I continued to wait…Over 5 hours later (is there a theme here?), he showed up. It turns out Songea makes for great people watching though, so I couldn’t complain. Plus, I got to eat lunch with a bunch of sweet electrical engineers from Dar. It was, indeed, a nice change of pace.
This brings us to Friday night, when we were alerted that our presence was requested as “chaperones” (I put this in quotes because it later came clear that we were expected to do no helping and were simply expected to enjoy ourselves) on the secondary school’s trip to Ruaha National Park. When and where would the bus meet? Great question. The answer we received was “4 or 5 in the morning…at the meeting spot”. Yep. You can’t make this stuff up. The serious answer was “the meeting spot”, and that’s all we got. You’d think eventually I’d get used to this unclear communication style, but I kind of hope I don’t, because it’s pretty hilarious. Well, we got word around 3:30am that the bus would be leaving promptly at 4, so we slept for a few more minutes, packed a few things, and somehow made it over to the school in our sleep.
Now we were told this trip would take somewhere between 6 and 8 hours. We left at 4am. We got there after 4pm. Explanation? Not really sure. We made a very long stop in Iringa (nearest town to Ruaha) for food. You see, a bus full of kids here can’t just stop at McDonald’s, order burgers, and be on its way. We had to stop at a market and by mountains of rice and other cooking materials so the kids could later make the dinner for everyone.
How was this bus ride you ask? Another great question! It was quite the funky adventure. To picture the bus, simply picture some sort of whacky Partridge Family bus. Now you have the outside. I got to share one and a half seats with the monk that led the trip, and let’s just say I didn’t necessarily get my ¾ seat…Something about the piece of metal sticking in my back reminded me of riding from St. John’s to Eau Claire on the plastic cupholder in the middle of the back seat of a 2 door Saturn. It was then that I realized that this bus was at least better than that trip. Also, amidst all the Swahili hip hop on the radio “All the Above” came on, and it was amazing how much it lifted my spirits! Here’s to you, Maino.
Arriving shortly before the sun went down (and dealing with the park officials seeing how much extra money they could charge because we had white people in the group), it became clear that we would be doing no safariing that night. The students cooked the food, and we ate it. I will say no more about the food than that they worked very hard to make said food.
The night was pretty uneventful…oh yeah, except there was an elephant hanging out about 5 yards from the window of the room Mike and I shared around 12:30! No big deal. In the morning I thought maybe I had dreamt it, but the elephant was kind enough to leave some sizable proof.
We got started around 9 with the driving safari, and we saw a couple of lions right away! This was of course what everyone wanted to see, so it was super exciting, but I think it also kind of stole the suspense. (Important note: “samba” is Swahili for “lion”, and yes, there does exist an African shoe company that makes knockoff Timberlands and calls them “Simbalands”). Anyway, the safari was pretty phenomenal, especially since I got put in the front next to the driver. Oh yeah, and you know those sweet beige Land Rovers you think of when you think of safaris?...yeah, we SAW those. We, however, rode through the wild in style- Partridge Family style.
We saw the lions, so many cool birds, giraffes, zebras, elephants, baboons, tons of kudu and impalas, mongooses (MONGOOSEN!), and a crocodile. Also, there was a downed tree in the way of our route, so all the boys got out and pushed it aside (it was very reminiscent of BLP pushing Morgan’s car). Again, it was all pretty great.
Before heading for Hanga the students made lunch. Bless their hearts, they tried and that’s a ton of food to make, but let’s just say it was a struggle. By this time I was exhausted and ready to head back.
On the way back we had two tire issues (they changed a tire, but it definitely didn’t look flat, so I refer to it as a “tire issue”). The second issue was apparently quite a bit more serious, and it was getting dark (we were only in Iringa because we had stopped at some historical museum). Everyone hung out in the street for quite a while, and I did my best to channel any physics knowledge I had left in order to seize a teachable moment in explaining the mechanical advantage of using a longer radius to loosen very tight bolts.
After some quality mechanic work from the driving team, we were on the road again in the dark, and I was, how you say, “Plum tuckered out”. We didn’t get back to Hanga until around 3am…Did I sleep on the way? Well you are just full of great questions today! I’m pretty confident that a total of 5 minutes of sleep would be an overestimate. This was not due to the less than ideal seat position, and it wasn’t even due to the somewhat questionable cooking. You see, I failed to mention two key aspects of the bus/bus driver.
Important note #1: The bus driver uses his horn it’s his job (it kind of is, but he took it to a whole new level). He put any horn-users I know to shame. He used it when rounding dark curves, when passing people, when seeing people wave, when wanting bicycles to get off the road, when wanting the attention of a personal selling what looked like charcoal on the side of the road (yeah, he stopped and bought 2 bags), and when he was angry with someone. Again, some of these honks were necessary, and I very much appreciated his ability to vary the length and rhythm of said honks. The man was truly an artist.
Important note #2: The brakes were nuts. I had a long time to decide what I think they sounded like, and I think I have it pegged. First imagine the sound of a teapot steaming loudly. Now, imagine the sound of an adolescent girl in a second rate horror film screaming because she just noticed the bad guy was in the room. If you imagine something right in between those two sounds, you have our brakes.
All in all, a funky adventure was had, lions and zebras were seen (still hoping to get a picture of me wearing Zubaz next to zebras), and we made it back safe and sound. And hey, guess what! I just about have a set schedule through December (starting next Monday)! That’s right, for the first time I have been told something to the effect of “we need you to teach starting this day”. Hip hip hooray!
I was well-prepared for the craziness by a couple of interesting experiences the two days before we left for the safari. Some might call it “Practicing the waiting game”. On Thursday I finally had my meeting with the Seminary about what I might be able to teach there for the rest of the term. I waited in the faculty room, and the teacher I’d be helping came pretty quickly and told me I’d start a week from Monday and I’d teach “Form 3” (the third level, but kind of more similar to our 9th grade). However, she added at the end that the Math Subject Master wanted to talk to me about helping with one more class, but that he was busy so he’d come to me. I was instructed to wait somewhere in the school, and wait I did. Over 5 hours later the school day was done, and I was still in the staff room going over the material I’d probably cover and getting lesson ideas. All of the teachers were looking at me like I was crazy for still being there, and finally, the last one told me it was time to leave…the Subject Master never came…oh well. I got good planning time, and I’ll surely run into him eventually.
On Thursday night I was told by one of the monks at the guesthouse that I would be going into Songea on Friday. We were pretty pumped, as Songea is a nearby larger city that provides a nice change of pace (and hopefully bicycles soon). However, Friday morning we learned that the WE was really ME. Apparently my passport photos for immigration forms were not sent on glossy enough paper, so I had to go into town to get photos taken and forms taken care of. I rode into town with monks going in for all sorts of other reasons and was told to wait in front of the shop that Hanga owns. Sure enough, eventually a man came up to me to take my picture (he had a lady from a shop hold up a blue sheet behind me, made sure my shirt looked nice, snapped some shots, and disappeared. It felt like a more mobile version of school picture day! Quite a while later, he showed up again with the photos I had needed. I then saw one of the monks, who told me the monk that was to work with me on the immigration forms should be arriving shortly, so I continued to wait…Over 5 hours later (is there a theme here?), he showed up. It turns out Songea makes for great people watching though, so I couldn’t complain. Plus, I got to eat lunch with a bunch of sweet electrical engineers from Dar. It was, indeed, a nice change of pace.
This brings us to Friday night, when we were alerted that our presence was requested as “chaperones” (I put this in quotes because it later came clear that we were expected to do no helping and were simply expected to enjoy ourselves) on the secondary school’s trip to Ruaha National Park. When and where would the bus meet? Great question. The answer we received was “4 or 5 in the morning…at the meeting spot”. Yep. You can’t make this stuff up. The serious answer was “the meeting spot”, and that’s all we got. You’d think eventually I’d get used to this unclear communication style, but I kind of hope I don’t, because it’s pretty hilarious. Well, we got word around 3:30am that the bus would be leaving promptly at 4, so we slept for a few more minutes, packed a few things, and somehow made it over to the school in our sleep.
Now we were told this trip would take somewhere between 6 and 8 hours. We left at 4am. We got there after 4pm. Explanation? Not really sure. We made a very long stop in Iringa (nearest town to Ruaha) for food. You see, a bus full of kids here can’t just stop at McDonald’s, order burgers, and be on its way. We had to stop at a market and by mountains of rice and other cooking materials so the kids could later make the dinner for everyone.
How was this bus ride you ask? Another great question! It was quite the funky adventure. To picture the bus, simply picture some sort of whacky Partridge Family bus. Now you have the outside. I got to share one and a half seats with the monk that led the trip, and let’s just say I didn’t necessarily get my ¾ seat…Something about the piece of metal sticking in my back reminded me of riding from St. John’s to Eau Claire on the plastic cupholder in the middle of the back seat of a 2 door Saturn. It was then that I realized that this bus was at least better than that trip. Also, amidst all the Swahili hip hop on the radio “All the Above” came on, and it was amazing how much it lifted my spirits! Here’s to you, Maino.
Arriving shortly before the sun went down (and dealing with the park officials seeing how much extra money they could charge because we had white people in the group), it became clear that we would be doing no safariing that night. The students cooked the food, and we ate it. I will say no more about the food than that they worked very hard to make said food.
The night was pretty uneventful…oh yeah, except there was an elephant hanging out about 5 yards from the window of the room Mike and I shared around 12:30! No big deal. In the morning I thought maybe I had dreamt it, but the elephant was kind enough to leave some sizable proof.
We got started around 9 with the driving safari, and we saw a couple of lions right away! This was of course what everyone wanted to see, so it was super exciting, but I think it also kind of stole the suspense. (Important note: “samba” is Swahili for “lion”, and yes, there does exist an African shoe company that makes knockoff Timberlands and calls them “Simbalands”). Anyway, the safari was pretty phenomenal, especially since I got put in the front next to the driver. Oh yeah, and you know those sweet beige Land Rovers you think of when you think of safaris?...yeah, we SAW those. We, however, rode through the wild in style- Partridge Family style.
We saw the lions, so many cool birds, giraffes, zebras, elephants, baboons, tons of kudu and impalas, mongooses (MONGOOSEN!), and a crocodile. Also, there was a downed tree in the way of our route, so all the boys got out and pushed it aside (it was very reminiscent of BLP pushing Morgan’s car). Again, it was all pretty great.
Before heading for Hanga the students made lunch. Bless their hearts, they tried and that’s a ton of food to make, but let’s just say it was a struggle. By this time I was exhausted and ready to head back.
On the way back we had two tire issues (they changed a tire, but it definitely didn’t look flat, so I refer to it as a “tire issue”). The second issue was apparently quite a bit more serious, and it was getting dark (we were only in Iringa because we had stopped at some historical museum). Everyone hung out in the street for quite a while, and I did my best to channel any physics knowledge I had left in order to seize a teachable moment in explaining the mechanical advantage of using a longer radius to loosen very tight bolts.
After some quality mechanic work from the driving team, we were on the road again in the dark, and I was, how you say, “Plum tuckered out”. We didn’t get back to Hanga until around 3am…Did I sleep on the way? Well you are just full of great questions today! I’m pretty confident that a total of 5 minutes of sleep would be an overestimate. This was not due to the less than ideal seat position, and it wasn’t even due to the somewhat questionable cooking. You see, I failed to mention two key aspects of the bus/bus driver.
Important note #1: The bus driver uses his horn it’s his job (it kind of is, but he took it to a whole new level). He put any horn-users I know to shame. He used it when rounding dark curves, when passing people, when seeing people wave, when wanting bicycles to get off the road, when wanting the attention of a personal selling what looked like charcoal on the side of the road (yeah, he stopped and bought 2 bags), and when he was angry with someone. Again, some of these honks were necessary, and I very much appreciated his ability to vary the length and rhythm of said honks. The man was truly an artist.
Important note #2: The brakes were nuts. I had a long time to decide what I think they sounded like, and I think I have it pegged. First imagine the sound of a teapot steaming loudly. Now, imagine the sound of an adolescent girl in a second rate horror film screaming because she just noticed the bad guy was in the room. If you imagine something right in between those two sounds, you have our brakes.
All in all, a funky adventure was had, lions and zebras were seen (still hoping to get a picture of me wearing Zubaz next to zebras), and we made it back safe and sound. And hey, guess what! I just about have a set schedule through December (starting next Monday)! That’s right, for the first time I have been told something to the effect of “we need you to teach starting this day”. Hip hip hooray!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
GOOOOAAAALLL!!!!
In taking on this Tanzanian adventure I naturally had some goals in mind and figured more would come as I go. Most were simple, broad goals like the ones I mentioned in one of my pre-Tanzania posts (helping the students, growing spiritually, growing as a teacher, etc.). Other goals have come already in my time here. One such example is the following: Tell a joke in Swahili. Another is: Learn to find joy in waiting and in wondering. This is, after all, a day in my life.
Today was another one of those wonderful, slap-in-the-face reminders that life is beautiful, and that hasn’t changed just because I’m farther away from my loved ones than I can bare to think about. Great things happened today: I woke up. I had talked to Mom and Papa yesterday. We used internet this morning. There were extra instruments in Mass today (drums and some wooden shaker thing). Mike and I got introduced at the end of Mass. I had three large meals today (including 3 bananas, down from the 5 I had yesterday). I had a roof over my head and access to clean water. I had running water (except part of the day, but it is dry season, I can’t get greedy). I got to go on a beautiful 2 plus hour hike with Mike. Vespers was in Latin (I probably caught about the same amount of words as I would in Swahili, but it was a nice change of pace). Vespers included Eucharistic Adoration! (I can’t say enough about how huge that was for me. I got to Skype with Joey. I have a mosquito net. I’m happy.
Some of the kids from the village like to hang around near our guesthouse, and they are a great reminder for me to be thankful. The lives of the villagers can differ greatly from those at the monastery. Seeing some of their houses reminds me of other houses we saw in remote villages on the way. Africa, in general, and Hanga, Tanzania specifically are by no means just a bunch of villages with meager run-down huts. However, there are plenty of people all around me struggling just to survive in a way I can’t begin to imagine. I always like Sam Neely’s song lyrics “Count your blessings, yeah. Be happy for what you got. You’re cryin’ ‘cuz you aint got no shoes- well that poor soul now he aint got no feet.” I get super bummed because I haven’t seen my sister in weeks, and I have a right to be, because I love her. But I met a student who hasn’t seen his brother in years, because his brother had to move to America as a refugee from Burundi. I guess this is just me finally getting a little sappy/journal-y as I try to put my homesickness into perspective.
Without any smooth segue into something quite a bit more lighthearted, I did want to mention that there was one more goal I wanted to talk about, and it also fits into the list of things I’m thankful for. You see, soccer (football) is pretty huge here. I typically attempt to get to know people/earn respect through a) goofiness or b) bonding over athletics. Goofiness is not looking promising, as most people don’t necessarily understand all of what I say let alone my humor. And then there’s athletics….Mike and I busted out the old Frisbee a couple of times so far, and I have to say, some of my favorite snapshots so far have been seeing the smiles and hearing the laughs of Tanzanians who try to throw for the first time. It’s almost like they can’t believe they’re trying something so ridiculous, and they look to us to nod approvingly as they mimic the throwing motion they’re about to try. Typically this first try does not go as planned for them (they see us throw and expect the same accuracy on their first try, and sometimes their first try doesn’t even rotate). This is usually followed by ear to ear grins and great laughter from all around. It’s just a sweet moment of them letting their guard down, learning something new, and trying their own bit of something a little foreign. Anyway, Frisbee tangent aside, athletics also aren’t looking promising. There’s some volleyball, but no one is really much for playing by the rules. Plus, my bread and butter is diving for digs, and that’s not too wise on the hard ground… There’s basketball, but the rim is about the size of the ball (jumpers are almost out of the question, but maybe after a great deal of practice) and the team movement looks a lot more like soccer. Which brings us to…soccer of course. No one really cares about the other sports. It’s all about the soccer, and I’m not…how you say…good. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I may have never scored a goal in my life. That includes the league I was in when I was just a little guy, gym, and probably even goofing around. It’s just not my thing. I proved this in the staff vs. students game on Friday. Let’s just say I played goalie until I was replaced by the waterboy who was wearing dress clothes…I don’t want to talk about it.
This brings us to today. Br. Germanus is a really nice monk that has taken it as his responsibility to make sure we feel especially welcome at prayer and sports. Thus, after Vespers today, he invited us to join as the monks would be playing soccer with the trade school students. This was it. My chance to immediately get back on the horse and show and show some resilience. The goal was simple: Fade in. If you don’t mess up terribly, no one will notice. In the end, they’ll thank you for playing and that’ll be that. But there was another goal. A secret goal. A goal that was downright META (sort of, it’s a stretch, but it’s half meta and half pun for those of you that understand/care). The goal: A GOAL. This would be unchartered territory. Was I dreaming too big? Maybe. I guess that’s why I did it. (I have told people I’d be fine with never scoring, but who am I kidding?). Anyway, I’d love to insert a detailed play by play here, but it would just remind you all how little I know about the game, so let’s cut to the chase: I SCORED A GOAL!!!! That’s right, I can now add to my short list of epic things I have done. Marathon? Check. Survive the boundary waters with junior higher from St. Paul? Check. Go to Africa? Check. Score a goal while playing soccer with Tanzanian monks? Check.
Every fiber of my being wanted to run around yelling “GGGGOOOOLLLLIIII!” (Swahili for goal), but here is a list of reasons I didn’t:
1. That’s not very humble.
2. I gathered from the other 6 or so goals scored that people are much more inclined to walk back to their position after scoring as if nothing happened (hey, I’m still trying to fit in).
3. I didn’t want people to think I was taunting by saying the English “Goalie”.
4. Let’s be real, I didn’t even know how to say “goal” in Swahili until I looked it up after I got back to my room.
Alas, the goal was scored, and my ego was boosted. I tried to keep you in suspense, but I suppose the title gave it away. It’s kind of like when SportsCenter titles a segment “Vikings Drop the Ball” and then talk through the game as if you don’t know who won (yeah, I heard the great news about the Saints game). Oh well, the important thing is that it happened and it was magical.
Now for a couple final updates: I’m supposed to have a meeting tomorrow (Monday) that will decide what I’ll be doing for work the next couple of months. Fingers crossed.
Also, a quick and somewhat unimportant note about my name: Alec is not easy for Swahili speakers to pronounce. The “a” sound in Swahili is only “ah”. So the “a” that we have in “Alec” or “after” just doesn’t exist. Also, the “e” sounds like “ay”. Also, most people’s l’s sound like r’s. Thus, my name, if read, would sound something like either “Ah-lake” or “Ah-rake”. The moral of this story is that most assume that it is Eric. I’m not too picky, and I know Al would be even tougher, but there’s an exciting recent occurrence. The young village kids have started calling me “Ah-lee-key”. I spell it Aliki. I have to say, I kind of like it. I claim that the Swahili translation for my “Al my Pal” (I got that more in my younger days) is Aliki Rafiki. I’m thinking about going with that for introductions from now on…right before I mention that I’ve scored a goal.
Today was another one of those wonderful, slap-in-the-face reminders that life is beautiful, and that hasn’t changed just because I’m farther away from my loved ones than I can bare to think about. Great things happened today: I woke up. I had talked to Mom and Papa yesterday. We used internet this morning. There were extra instruments in Mass today (drums and some wooden shaker thing). Mike and I got introduced at the end of Mass. I had three large meals today (including 3 bananas, down from the 5 I had yesterday). I had a roof over my head and access to clean water. I had running water (except part of the day, but it is dry season, I can’t get greedy). I got to go on a beautiful 2 plus hour hike with Mike. Vespers was in Latin (I probably caught about the same amount of words as I would in Swahili, but it was a nice change of pace). Vespers included Eucharistic Adoration! (I can’t say enough about how huge that was for me. I got to Skype with Joey. I have a mosquito net. I’m happy.
Some of the kids from the village like to hang around near our guesthouse, and they are a great reminder for me to be thankful. The lives of the villagers can differ greatly from those at the monastery. Seeing some of their houses reminds me of other houses we saw in remote villages on the way. Africa, in general, and Hanga, Tanzania specifically are by no means just a bunch of villages with meager run-down huts. However, there are plenty of people all around me struggling just to survive in a way I can’t begin to imagine. I always like Sam Neely’s song lyrics “Count your blessings, yeah. Be happy for what you got. You’re cryin’ ‘cuz you aint got no shoes- well that poor soul now he aint got no feet.” I get super bummed because I haven’t seen my sister in weeks, and I have a right to be, because I love her. But I met a student who hasn’t seen his brother in years, because his brother had to move to America as a refugee from Burundi. I guess this is just me finally getting a little sappy/journal-y as I try to put my homesickness into perspective.
Without any smooth segue into something quite a bit more lighthearted, I did want to mention that there was one more goal I wanted to talk about, and it also fits into the list of things I’m thankful for. You see, soccer (football) is pretty huge here. I typically attempt to get to know people/earn respect through a) goofiness or b) bonding over athletics. Goofiness is not looking promising, as most people don’t necessarily understand all of what I say let alone my humor. And then there’s athletics….Mike and I busted out the old Frisbee a couple of times so far, and I have to say, some of my favorite snapshots so far have been seeing the smiles and hearing the laughs of Tanzanians who try to throw for the first time. It’s almost like they can’t believe they’re trying something so ridiculous, and they look to us to nod approvingly as they mimic the throwing motion they’re about to try. Typically this first try does not go as planned for them (they see us throw and expect the same accuracy on their first try, and sometimes their first try doesn’t even rotate). This is usually followed by ear to ear grins and great laughter from all around. It’s just a sweet moment of them letting their guard down, learning something new, and trying their own bit of something a little foreign. Anyway, Frisbee tangent aside, athletics also aren’t looking promising. There’s some volleyball, but no one is really much for playing by the rules. Plus, my bread and butter is diving for digs, and that’s not too wise on the hard ground… There’s basketball, but the rim is about the size of the ball (jumpers are almost out of the question, but maybe after a great deal of practice) and the team movement looks a lot more like soccer. Which brings us to…soccer of course. No one really cares about the other sports. It’s all about the soccer, and I’m not…how you say…good. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I may have never scored a goal in my life. That includes the league I was in when I was just a little guy, gym, and probably even goofing around. It’s just not my thing. I proved this in the staff vs. students game on Friday. Let’s just say I played goalie until I was replaced by the waterboy who was wearing dress clothes…I don’t want to talk about it.
This brings us to today. Br. Germanus is a really nice monk that has taken it as his responsibility to make sure we feel especially welcome at prayer and sports. Thus, after Vespers today, he invited us to join as the monks would be playing soccer with the trade school students. This was it. My chance to immediately get back on the horse and show and show some resilience. The goal was simple: Fade in. If you don’t mess up terribly, no one will notice. In the end, they’ll thank you for playing and that’ll be that. But there was another goal. A secret goal. A goal that was downright META (sort of, it’s a stretch, but it’s half meta and half pun for those of you that understand/care). The goal: A GOAL. This would be unchartered territory. Was I dreaming too big? Maybe. I guess that’s why I did it. (I have told people I’d be fine with never scoring, but who am I kidding?). Anyway, I’d love to insert a detailed play by play here, but it would just remind you all how little I know about the game, so let’s cut to the chase: I SCORED A GOAL!!!! That’s right, I can now add to my short list of epic things I have done. Marathon? Check. Survive the boundary waters with junior higher from St. Paul? Check. Go to Africa? Check. Score a goal while playing soccer with Tanzanian monks? Check.
Every fiber of my being wanted to run around yelling “GGGGOOOOLLLLIIII!” (Swahili for goal), but here is a list of reasons I didn’t:
1. That’s not very humble.
2. I gathered from the other 6 or so goals scored that people are much more inclined to walk back to their position after scoring as if nothing happened (hey, I’m still trying to fit in).
3. I didn’t want people to think I was taunting by saying the English “Goalie”.
4. Let’s be real, I didn’t even know how to say “goal” in Swahili until I looked it up after I got back to my room.
Alas, the goal was scored, and my ego was boosted. I tried to keep you in suspense, but I suppose the title gave it away. It’s kind of like when SportsCenter titles a segment “Vikings Drop the Ball” and then talk through the game as if you don’t know who won (yeah, I heard the great news about the Saints game). Oh well, the important thing is that it happened and it was magical.
Now for a couple final updates: I’m supposed to have a meeting tomorrow (Monday) that will decide what I’ll be doing for work the next couple of months. Fingers crossed.
Also, a quick and somewhat unimportant note about my name: Alec is not easy for Swahili speakers to pronounce. The “a” sound in Swahili is only “ah”. So the “a” that we have in “Alec” or “after” just doesn’t exist. Also, the “e” sounds like “ay”. Also, most people’s l’s sound like r’s. Thus, my name, if read, would sound something like either “Ah-lake” or “Ah-rake”. The moral of this story is that most assume that it is Eric. I’m not too picky, and I know Al would be even tougher, but there’s an exciting recent occurrence. The young village kids have started calling me “Ah-lee-key”. I spell it Aliki. I have to say, I kind of like it. I claim that the Swahili translation for my “Al my Pal” (I got that more in my younger days) is Aliki Rafiki. I’m thinking about going with that for introductions from now on…right before I mention that I’ve scored a goal.
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