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.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
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.
When in Doubt, Tag Along
As I sit here in my room, lit only by the ambience of the very computer I type on, I can’t stop grinning and shaking my head. I’m pretty sure one of the only things I said to Mike, Roger, and Julie (my fellow BVCer and the Aussies, respectively) before parting ways for the night was, “Was that real life?”
I should start from the beginning though. We have learned yet another valuable lesson: When in doubt, tag along. We had no idea what to expect when we learned we would be travelling to Hanga with this Australian couple. What a blessing it has been to be with them. We became an instantly connected team of 4 for the week, and that has provided us with some unique experiences and perspectives on this wonderful and ridiculous place we’ll be housed at until spring. With the whole Africa Time thing, we never have really known where we should be or when we should be there, but the theme has been that eventually Br. Patrick (essentially Julie and Roger’s personal tour guide) will ask us to join them. The two most recent experiences of this are as follows:
1. Ceremony of Vows for the Sisters of Chipole
I’m not even going to mention the name of the restaurant that Chipole is probably making you think of, because, unlike my Breakthrough Leaders Program (BLP) students in the Boundary Waters this summer, I cannot continuously think about and talk about all the wonderful foods I don’t have.
Anyway, yesterday we were offered the chance to go to Songea (the nearest large town, complete with fastish internet cafes, places to eat, and a semi-bustling marketplace). Naturally, we jumped on our first chance to connect ourselves to the hub of any non-village life we want to have. Br. Patrick briefly mentioned that we’d stop at Perimiho (the German monastery that essentially spawned Hanga), and we did. He also mentioned we’d make it to Chipole, and did we ever. That morning we remembered people mentioning that there would be women taking their vows to join the Benedictine Sisters of Chipole (the caravan full of nuns along with Br. Patrick, Fr. Francis, and ourselves was a great reminder).
We left at 7am and got there at 9am-just in time for a quick breakfast in their Refectory. At 9:30am the service began (Mass and vow ceremony) and at about 2:00pm we were leaving the gorgeously decorated church…Yep, 4 AND A HALF HOURS! It was phenomenal! Young girls were altar dancing, there was singing and swaying constantly, a bishop was presiding, people would cheer (and indescribable high-pitched noise made by some form of quickly moving their tongues side to side), and the 6 women making their vows had a heck of a ceremony. Their parents presented them, they read and signed their vows, they processed with their vows around the church, and their parents brought offerings. By offerings, I mean your typical corn, bananas, and chickens…Yep, there was a line of people bringing all sorts of foods (mostly carried on their heads) to the altar. I can honestly say that I have never been to that long of a service, and I have never seen an elderly woman blow on a whistle while approaching the altar with a chicken under her arm. Priceless.
After the ceremony the celebration continued. We were told to follow the singing and dancing, and we followed it to a large outdoor gathering space where the village was fed rice (huge utility pales filled to the brim with rice everywhere!). Let’s just say we didn’t go unnoticed among the village full of peers wearing traditional African attire…Our sticking out made us an easy target for the dancers. Unfortunately, we didn’t understand what they were calling to us, but it became pretty clear it was an invitation to join very quickly. Everyone for women around our age to women getting up there in age to men our age seemed to take turns dancing with Roger, Mike, and me. Let’s just saying we didn’t quite know how to respond, but we did our best and had a good time with it.
Moral of the story: tagging along for Chipole was a great call.
2. “There’s some sort of feast going on… Patrick said he invited you…”
After our first game of football (soccer) with the monks today, Mike and I were exhausted. Mike was exhausted from running and impressing the monks, and I was exhausted from running and giving them cause to laugh at my meager attempts to look like I could play anywhere near their level (ask Mike though, I had my moments). We honestly contemplated hitting the hay at 8, but decided to see how late Hanga Food Land (a village shop run by the Abbey) was open. I got my much anticipated mango juice (delicious of course) and we headed to see if the internet was working.
Earlier today we had yet another bout of the “Where’sPatricks”, and Mike and I decided to go rest while we waited, so we gave Roger my phone number so he could tell us when Patrick was located (oh Africa Time). This was quite a lucky decision, because on our way to the internet, I got a call from Roger (which is weird, because he never calls me- FRIENDS reference). I answered, and he simply said something to the effect of “There’s some sort of feast going on. They slaughtered a pig and there’s dancing. Patrick said he invited you. You should really check it out. It’s right by the computer lab.”
This sounded like some sort of prank (something to the effect of “Go out to the middle of that open field where we saw that herd of lions (we still haven’t seen lions). There’s a surprise for you.”) However, we decided to check it out, and it’s a darn good thing.
I’ll try to keep the description short, in part because “there are no words- only emotions”. It turns out the Fantastic Four (the Aussies and us) were the guests of honor at this Trade School feast (remember, it’s unlikely we’ll even teach at the Trade School, although we’d love to work for Patrick). The students sat on rows of benches facing us as we began eating (since we, in fact, had not been made aware of said feast, Mike, Roger, and I had eaten dinner about 30 minutes prior). Don’t worry, the students eventually got food too.
Anyway, the students spent hours decorating the room, and it was beautiful (even with the faint smell of the nearby livestock looming in the distance). After we ate, the students put on a little performance, and it reminded me a little of Breakthrough. They sang and danced, even singing songs including our names (Patrick claims he didn’t tell them our names, but they figured it out). There was definitely some breakdancing involved, which gives me all the more hope that I can teach them “The Jerk”. They then performed a hilarious skit (in Swahili) about two guys tricking each other in order to keep all the food for themselves.
This was all mostly to think Roger and Julie for all the help they had been/they help they plan to continue to be in advising the best way to go about connecting the students more and more with the world through better internet (great news for volunteers like us too). Somehow it also came to include a welcome to Mike and I, and I must say it was a distinct honor to be part of such a thing.
Finally, I just wanted to mention that I will no longer apologize for the length of my blogs, because, let’s be real, you can just choose to wait and hear the stories firsthand if you want. Still, don’t get used to them being this long. Remember, I’m still waiting to start my actual work.
P.S.- I tried SKYPE in the computer lab (we’re told it doesn’t work well). I didn’t have my webcam with me, but I was able to speak with the one and only JOE “COOLEST KID EVER” WONDERLICH, and it worked pretty well. Good news. And you’re welcome Joe.
Well, time to see if my dreams can be anywhere close to as ridiculous as tonight was.
I should start from the beginning though. We have learned yet another valuable lesson: When in doubt, tag along. We had no idea what to expect when we learned we would be travelling to Hanga with this Australian couple. What a blessing it has been to be with them. We became an instantly connected team of 4 for the week, and that has provided us with some unique experiences and perspectives on this wonderful and ridiculous place we’ll be housed at until spring. With the whole Africa Time thing, we never have really known where we should be or when we should be there, but the theme has been that eventually Br. Patrick (essentially Julie and Roger’s personal tour guide) will ask us to join them. The two most recent experiences of this are as follows:
1. Ceremony of Vows for the Sisters of Chipole
I’m not even going to mention the name of the restaurant that Chipole is probably making you think of, because, unlike my Breakthrough Leaders Program (BLP) students in the Boundary Waters this summer, I cannot continuously think about and talk about all the wonderful foods I don’t have.
Anyway, yesterday we were offered the chance to go to Songea (the nearest large town, complete with fastish internet cafes, places to eat, and a semi-bustling marketplace). Naturally, we jumped on our first chance to connect ourselves to the hub of any non-village life we want to have. Br. Patrick briefly mentioned that we’d stop at Perimiho (the German monastery that essentially spawned Hanga), and we did. He also mentioned we’d make it to Chipole, and did we ever. That morning we remembered people mentioning that there would be women taking their vows to join the Benedictine Sisters of Chipole (the caravan full of nuns along with Br. Patrick, Fr. Francis, and ourselves was a great reminder).
We left at 7am and got there at 9am-just in time for a quick breakfast in their Refectory. At 9:30am the service began (Mass and vow ceremony) and at about 2:00pm we were leaving the gorgeously decorated church…Yep, 4 AND A HALF HOURS! It was phenomenal! Young girls were altar dancing, there was singing and swaying constantly, a bishop was presiding, people would cheer (and indescribable high-pitched noise made by some form of quickly moving their tongues side to side), and the 6 women making their vows had a heck of a ceremony. Their parents presented them, they read and signed their vows, they processed with their vows around the church, and their parents brought offerings. By offerings, I mean your typical corn, bananas, and chickens…Yep, there was a line of people bringing all sorts of foods (mostly carried on their heads) to the altar. I can honestly say that I have never been to that long of a service, and I have never seen an elderly woman blow on a whistle while approaching the altar with a chicken under her arm. Priceless.
After the ceremony the celebration continued. We were told to follow the singing and dancing, and we followed it to a large outdoor gathering space where the village was fed rice (huge utility pales filled to the brim with rice everywhere!). Let’s just say we didn’t go unnoticed among the village full of peers wearing traditional African attire…Our sticking out made us an easy target for the dancers. Unfortunately, we didn’t understand what they were calling to us, but it became pretty clear it was an invitation to join very quickly. Everyone for women around our age to women getting up there in age to men our age seemed to take turns dancing with Roger, Mike, and me. Let’s just saying we didn’t quite know how to respond, but we did our best and had a good time with it.
Moral of the story: tagging along for Chipole was a great call.
2. “There’s some sort of feast going on… Patrick said he invited you…”
After our first game of football (soccer) with the monks today, Mike and I were exhausted. Mike was exhausted from running and impressing the monks, and I was exhausted from running and giving them cause to laugh at my meager attempts to look like I could play anywhere near their level (ask Mike though, I had my moments). We honestly contemplated hitting the hay at 8, but decided to see how late Hanga Food Land (a village shop run by the Abbey) was open. I got my much anticipated mango juice (delicious of course) and we headed to see if the internet was working.
Earlier today we had yet another bout of the “Where’sPatricks”, and Mike and I decided to go rest while we waited, so we gave Roger my phone number so he could tell us when Patrick was located (oh Africa Time). This was quite a lucky decision, because on our way to the internet, I got a call from Roger (which is weird, because he never calls me- FRIENDS reference). I answered, and he simply said something to the effect of “There’s some sort of feast going on. They slaughtered a pig and there’s dancing. Patrick said he invited you. You should really check it out. It’s right by the computer lab.”
This sounded like some sort of prank (something to the effect of “Go out to the middle of that open field where we saw that herd of lions (we still haven’t seen lions). There’s a surprise for you.”) However, we decided to check it out, and it’s a darn good thing.
I’ll try to keep the description short, in part because “there are no words- only emotions”. It turns out the Fantastic Four (the Aussies and us) were the guests of honor at this Trade School feast (remember, it’s unlikely we’ll even teach at the Trade School, although we’d love to work for Patrick). The students sat on rows of benches facing us as we began eating (since we, in fact, had not been made aware of said feast, Mike, Roger, and I had eaten dinner about 30 minutes prior). Don’t worry, the students eventually got food too.
Anyway, the students spent hours decorating the room, and it was beautiful (even with the faint smell of the nearby livestock looming in the distance). After we ate, the students put on a little performance, and it reminded me a little of Breakthrough. They sang and danced, even singing songs including our names (Patrick claims he didn’t tell them our names, but they figured it out). There was definitely some breakdancing involved, which gives me all the more hope that I can teach them “The Jerk”. They then performed a hilarious skit (in Swahili) about two guys tricking each other in order to keep all the food for themselves.
This was all mostly to think Roger and Julie for all the help they had been/they help they plan to continue to be in advising the best way to go about connecting the students more and more with the world through better internet (great news for volunteers like us too). Somehow it also came to include a welcome to Mike and I, and I must say it was a distinct honor to be part of such a thing.
Finally, I just wanted to mention that I will no longer apologize for the length of my blogs, because, let’s be real, you can just choose to wait and hear the stories firsthand if you want. Still, don’t get used to them being this long. Remember, I’m still waiting to start my actual work.
P.S.- I tried SKYPE in the computer lab (we’re told it doesn’t work well). I didn’t have my webcam with me, but I was able to speak with the one and only JOE “COOLEST KID EVER” WONDERLICH, and it worked pretty well. Good news. And you’re welcome Joe.
Well, time to see if my dreams can be anywhere close to as ridiculous as tonight was.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Pole Pole
Pole pole is Swahili for “slowly”, and it is the theme of our African lives. We use the phrase often to implore our new peers to slow down when they talk, when we explain that we are learning the language (just very slowly), and when we are asked if we are getting information about any sort of plans for anything (what we’re doing in the morning, what we’re doing in the evening, what we’re doing for 8 months in Hanga.
…Speaking of which, pole pole we made our way to Hanga. That’s right, we’re here, at our actual monastery of residence and service! Literally one week after our arrival in Dar, we set off for Hanga. Br. Patrick (principle of Hanga’s trade school, good English speaker, great sense of humor) was our driver, and our volunteering pointman Br. Cassian joined as well. In Dar we picked up a husband and wife duo of retired educators from Australia, and boy are they great!
I’ll get right to my big confession- I was so worried about taking care of my wonderful brand new camera (courtesy of my wonderful Cooper gang o’ friends) that I made sure to keep it packed in very safe places (aka not my pocket where it sometimes should have been. That’s right, I didn’t get a picture of Kipepeo Beach, giraffes (just for you, Joe), elephants, antelopes, baboons, lions, or the most beautiful first sunset of Hanga I’ve ever seen. For those of you reading closely, the reason I didn’t get a picture of lions is because we have yet to see one (the rest of the things we really did see). Don’t worry though, I intend to steal the Kipepeo pictures from Alex (volunteer in Mvimwa) and Roger and Julie (our Aussie buddies) got great shots of the animals and gorgeous landscape on our way to Hanga.
The trip was a two-dayer because we drove instead of taking that wonderful bus I told a lot of you about. In other words, thanks in large part to our ability to tag along with Roger and Julie, we got pretty pampered. We stayed in a nice hotel in Iringa, and Mike and I woke up early the next morning to attempt a supposed 1km hike to some gorgeous peak whose name sounded a lot like Gagliardi. We got to the top of some rocks (definitely not the peak we read about) and saw a phenomenal sunrsise over the mountains and the town. When we saw the animals in the National Park, I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want the monks to think I was all touristy, but I also was awestruck. I think that combination ended up with a lot of me saying intelligent things like, “Oo, look” as I pointed to baboons or giraffes. Anyway, it was a long, hot ride, and it involved some of that famous slowness- They were doing construction at night, which apparently means the only allow one direction of traffic to flow for random periods of time, so we had a couple instances of just chilling on the side of the road, waiting for it to be our turn. At one of these stops we got out of the van and looked at the huge blanket of stars above us, and it was pretty amazing. Of course they let us go soon after we got out, and I got to attempt to dive back into the back corner of the van over luggage so we could get in on the mad dash of cars and trucks excited to be moving again.
Anyway, pole pole we did make it to Hanga. There’s no great way to sum up my first two Hannga days without coming back to the fact that I need to learn/am quickly learning that things simply will happen pole pole. We spent the first day touring the schools (the monastery runs a primary school, a secondary school, a seminary, and a trade school). As much as I love playing the baritone ukulele for large groups of kindergarteners, I’m thinking I won’t be working at the primary school (after all, I lent out my uke for the time I’m gone). As much as I consider myself a nearly professional brick layer, plumber, electrician, and tailor, I don’t know that my Swahili is good enough to teach at the trade school (those students really struggle the most with their English). Thus, I am thinking/hoping to work as much as I can with the secondary and seminary schools. It’s very confusing (not the confusing where I can’t explain it well via blog, but the confusing where I just plain old don’t get it), but apparently the different schools are either on holiday or preparing for national exams or something, so we didn’t really see the schools in action. Also, we haven’t gotten to discuss what we will concretely be teaching because…well because it just hasn’t happened (pole pole it is).
It’s dry season and the monastery runs almost solely on hydroelectric power, so they just turned the power off for the night, so I’ll have to be done soon (computer battery will only last so long). Before I head to bed, I’ll try to give a little overview of what I’ve been able to gather about how I will live:
Hands: J I will be asked about my two-toned hands often. It’s so great because the little kids just love touching them, and the older nuns just seem very worried for me. A seminarian who speaks good English has promised to tell kids I’m a scientist so that I can tell them it’s from an acid spill (just kidding, doing that once was enough…). Seriously though, they seem to understand my feeble attempt at a mini science lesson about melanin, and they love it when I simplify it as “God just chose to paint me creatively”. Amadeus (the aforementioned seminarian, who introduced himself as Amadeus Amadeus so I would remember that he is like the song) cut me off during my explanation and asked, “Have you accepted it?” I smiled and explained that I don’t just accept it but also embrace it. He smiled back and explained that here, the important thing is making sure people accept things that come their way.
Food: I heard that every meal was going to be rice and some form of meat to go on top. On the flight over, I noticed that a kid’s chicken wings looked really good, so I opted for the chicken when they asked what I wanted for dinner. Apparently I had seen the kids’ meal, as I received a plate of, you guessed it, chicken and rice. My next plane meal also involved rice. I have, indeed, eaten rice at almost every meal (even breakfasts now) since I left home. However, roommates and family out there will be happy/shocked to hear that I’m eating more vegetables than ever before! I have boiled spinach twice a day, and any other green and orange things I can get my hands on. A German volunteer mentioned that Americans tend to mix all foods together, and I looked down at my plate and realized that I do exactly that for every meal. The craziest part of it all is that I still really like it. There is a little variety, and the bananas must be growing at some ridiculous exponential rate, because we get them for every meal and then some! The guestmaster literally pretended to want to shake my hand in order to slip a banana to me to make me take it to my room for later!
The Prayer: It’s in Swahili…but I’ve learned the Sign of the Cross. We’ve been going to 6:40am Mass, 12:40 noon prayer, and 8:40 compline, and a lot of the monks really seem to appreciate it as both being prayful and a great attempt to learn Swahili.
The Room: Photos to come soon. I just decorated today, and I definitely had to get creative. There’s a bed complete with mosquito net (important note: mosquito net + flashlight= way cooler shadow designs than even my fancy hands could make). There’s also a desk and chair. I have a bathroom that is about 3 ft wide and 10 ft long. It starts with a sink, then has a shower, and then a toilet. The shower is, in other words, just a showerhead in the middle of this bathroom. I learned this morning that I need to put the toilet seat cover down in order to keep the seat from getting soaked, and I can’t shower too long or the water will run into the rest of my room. I know it sounds like I’m complaining, but I actually love the ridiculousness of it. I am, however, still waiting for the clothes-washing bucket I was so excited about…pole pole
Overall, I was really missing home yesterday, but today was a great reminder of how wonderful this experience can be. I’ve met some great monks and some really great volunteers from Austria, Italy, Germany, and Oregon who’ve given a lot of great pointers and fellowship. This evening we played basketball and volleyball at the seminary fields with the students. The backboards are wooden, and the rims are about the size of the ball. One of the rims has broken off, so it is propped up but a large tree branch (what up Trash Art!). The volleyball court is a patch of thin red sand (looks like many of the village roads (picture a reddish baseball infield with small patches of grass) and no net. Everyone had a ton of fun, and it was SO GREAT to get to know some students and get some exercise. To top it off, the fields are near an opening at the top of a hill, so we watched the sun set over the mountains in the distance with the clearest of views as we played. I felt a little like the Sandlot kids during 4th of July fireworks as I got lost in watching the sky instead of playing. Here’s to us all figuring out what we’re supposed to be doing with our lives…pole pole.
…Speaking of which, pole pole we made our way to Hanga. That’s right, we’re here, at our actual monastery of residence and service! Literally one week after our arrival in Dar, we set off for Hanga. Br. Patrick (principle of Hanga’s trade school, good English speaker, great sense of humor) was our driver, and our volunteering pointman Br. Cassian joined as well. In Dar we picked up a husband and wife duo of retired educators from Australia, and boy are they great!
I’ll get right to my big confession- I was so worried about taking care of my wonderful brand new camera (courtesy of my wonderful Cooper gang o’ friends) that I made sure to keep it packed in very safe places (aka not my pocket where it sometimes should have been. That’s right, I didn’t get a picture of Kipepeo Beach, giraffes (just for you, Joe), elephants, antelopes, baboons, lions, or the most beautiful first sunset of Hanga I’ve ever seen. For those of you reading closely, the reason I didn’t get a picture of lions is because we have yet to see one (the rest of the things we really did see). Don’t worry though, I intend to steal the Kipepeo pictures from Alex (volunteer in Mvimwa) and Roger and Julie (our Aussie buddies) got great shots of the animals and gorgeous landscape on our way to Hanga.
The trip was a two-dayer because we drove instead of taking that wonderful bus I told a lot of you about. In other words, thanks in large part to our ability to tag along with Roger and Julie, we got pretty pampered. We stayed in a nice hotel in Iringa, and Mike and I woke up early the next morning to attempt a supposed 1km hike to some gorgeous peak whose name sounded a lot like Gagliardi. We got to the top of some rocks (definitely not the peak we read about) and saw a phenomenal sunrsise over the mountains and the town. When we saw the animals in the National Park, I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want the monks to think I was all touristy, but I also was awestruck. I think that combination ended up with a lot of me saying intelligent things like, “Oo, look” as I pointed to baboons or giraffes. Anyway, it was a long, hot ride, and it involved some of that famous slowness- They were doing construction at night, which apparently means the only allow one direction of traffic to flow for random periods of time, so we had a couple instances of just chilling on the side of the road, waiting for it to be our turn. At one of these stops we got out of the van and looked at the huge blanket of stars above us, and it was pretty amazing. Of course they let us go soon after we got out, and I got to attempt to dive back into the back corner of the van over luggage so we could get in on the mad dash of cars and trucks excited to be moving again.
Anyway, pole pole we did make it to Hanga. There’s no great way to sum up my first two Hannga days without coming back to the fact that I need to learn/am quickly learning that things simply will happen pole pole. We spent the first day touring the schools (the monastery runs a primary school, a secondary school, a seminary, and a trade school). As much as I love playing the baritone ukulele for large groups of kindergarteners, I’m thinking I won’t be working at the primary school (after all, I lent out my uke for the time I’m gone). As much as I consider myself a nearly professional brick layer, plumber, electrician, and tailor, I don’t know that my Swahili is good enough to teach at the trade school (those students really struggle the most with their English). Thus, I am thinking/hoping to work as much as I can with the secondary and seminary schools. It’s very confusing (not the confusing where I can’t explain it well via blog, but the confusing where I just plain old don’t get it), but apparently the different schools are either on holiday or preparing for national exams or something, so we didn’t really see the schools in action. Also, we haven’t gotten to discuss what we will concretely be teaching because…well because it just hasn’t happened (pole pole it is).
It’s dry season and the monastery runs almost solely on hydroelectric power, so they just turned the power off for the night, so I’ll have to be done soon (computer battery will only last so long). Before I head to bed, I’ll try to give a little overview of what I’ve been able to gather about how I will live:
Hands: J I will be asked about my two-toned hands often. It’s so great because the little kids just love touching them, and the older nuns just seem very worried for me. A seminarian who speaks good English has promised to tell kids I’m a scientist so that I can tell them it’s from an acid spill (just kidding, doing that once was enough…). Seriously though, they seem to understand my feeble attempt at a mini science lesson about melanin, and they love it when I simplify it as “God just chose to paint me creatively”. Amadeus (the aforementioned seminarian, who introduced himself as Amadeus Amadeus so I would remember that he is like the song) cut me off during my explanation and asked, “Have you accepted it?” I smiled and explained that I don’t just accept it but also embrace it. He smiled back and explained that here, the important thing is making sure people accept things that come their way.
Food: I heard that every meal was going to be rice and some form of meat to go on top. On the flight over, I noticed that a kid’s chicken wings looked really good, so I opted for the chicken when they asked what I wanted for dinner. Apparently I had seen the kids’ meal, as I received a plate of, you guessed it, chicken and rice. My next plane meal also involved rice. I have, indeed, eaten rice at almost every meal (even breakfasts now) since I left home. However, roommates and family out there will be happy/shocked to hear that I’m eating more vegetables than ever before! I have boiled spinach twice a day, and any other green and orange things I can get my hands on. A German volunteer mentioned that Americans tend to mix all foods together, and I looked down at my plate and realized that I do exactly that for every meal. The craziest part of it all is that I still really like it. There is a little variety, and the bananas must be growing at some ridiculous exponential rate, because we get them for every meal and then some! The guestmaster literally pretended to want to shake my hand in order to slip a banana to me to make me take it to my room for later!
The Prayer: It’s in Swahili…but I’ve learned the Sign of the Cross. We’ve been going to 6:40am Mass, 12:40 noon prayer, and 8:40 compline, and a lot of the monks really seem to appreciate it as both being prayful and a great attempt to learn Swahili.
The Room: Photos to come soon. I just decorated today, and I definitely had to get creative. There’s a bed complete with mosquito net (important note: mosquito net + flashlight= way cooler shadow designs than even my fancy hands could make). There’s also a desk and chair. I have a bathroom that is about 3 ft wide and 10 ft long. It starts with a sink, then has a shower, and then a toilet. The shower is, in other words, just a showerhead in the middle of this bathroom. I learned this morning that I need to put the toilet seat cover down in order to keep the seat from getting soaked, and I can’t shower too long or the water will run into the rest of my room. I know it sounds like I’m complaining, but I actually love the ridiculousness of it. I am, however, still waiting for the clothes-washing bucket I was so excited about…pole pole
Overall, I was really missing home yesterday, but today was a great reminder of how wonderful this experience can be. I’ve met some great monks and some really great volunteers from Austria, Italy, Germany, and Oregon who’ve given a lot of great pointers and fellowship. This evening we played basketball and volleyball at the seminary fields with the students. The backboards are wooden, and the rims are about the size of the ball. One of the rims has broken off, so it is propped up but a large tree branch (what up Trash Art!). The volleyball court is a patch of thin red sand (looks like many of the village roads (picture a reddish baseball infield with small patches of grass) and no net. Everyone had a ton of fun, and it was SO GREAT to get to know some students and get some exercise. To top it off, the fields are near an opening at the top of a hill, so we watched the sun set over the mountains in the distance with the clearest of views as we played. I felt a little like the Sandlot kids during 4th of July fireworks as I got lost in watching the sky instead of playing. Here’s to us all figuring out what we’re supposed to be doing with our lives…pole pole.
Ridiculousness
I suppose it would have been ridiculous to think I’d make it through this adventure without learning/being reminded about something about myself. Well, it looks like I went and got reminded of something. In addition to being a big fan of life in general, I also really like people. I like telling stories, and I love listening to stories. This has been made slightly more difficult with the whole “You don’t speak much English and I speak even less Swahili” thing. It has been great to get to know Mike a lot better and share the experience, but I definitely miss all you wonderful people and the time I get to spend talking with all of you.
You see, by the time I post this we will have officially been in Dar for over a week. This was not the plan as far as we knew it, but we are taking the advice of a young camper I had back in my days of leading Extreme Faith Camp and “going with the flow”. The week has moved much more slowly than we’re used to, but, even though the plan-changing and uncertainty can get frustrating at times, I’d have to say that I’ve really enjoyed our time here. I have had a ton of time to think, write, and even read! I finished the first book I’ve read just for pleasure in a long time, and it was wonderful! Since I’ve had short stints of internet access the whole time, I figured I’d type this as a Word Document (a.k.a. “novel”) to make up for all of those disappointing hours I’m sure you all spent hitting refresh on this blog in hopes that I would regale you with more stories. Here goes the long and short of it. I’m calling it ridiculousness because a wonderful student of mine named Louie always told me I used the word ‘ridiculous’ too much and then proceeded to refer to me as such. Not all of it is that ridiculous, but I suppose that’s all relative…
*Flights: Nothing too out of the ordinary for the flight process (as you may recall, the itinerary was a bit tiring). However, we got a little excitement when some artillery valve-somethingorother wouldn’t close on the plane that was supposed to shoot us through the sky from Chicago to Frankfurt. I didn’t and don’t know what that valve is all about, but I’m all for making sure the vessel that’s about to shoot me over an ocean is 100% cleared for take-off. After about an hour on the runway (some passengers were pretty upset, but I was holding in my laughter as I thought of Louis C.K.’s “Everything’s Amazing and Nobody’s Happy”…YouTube it- it’s ridiculous!), we finally took off. We learned that our ETA to Frankfurt was about the same time as we were supposed to be leaving there for Ethiopia…whoops. Well, we got off in Franfurt and were shuttled onto a bus that sped us to…another bus! This one sped us to a desk where we heard the flight had already left. After some German arguing amongst Lufthansa workers, we were brought on a short job down some stairs and to…another bus! This bus brought us to a desk where we got boarding passes and proceeded to get on…another bus if I remember correctly. Anyway, we ended up on the plane to Ethiopia, met some cool people, and the rest is history/
*First Night…I Mean Morning: As scheduled, we got in at 3:15 AM EAT (8hrs ahead of Minnesota). We spent some time trying to figure out visa things, but security quickly gave them to us and rushed us out (what we didn’t realize was that we were literally the last passengers in the airport). We exited and realized that we were surrounded by Tanzanians offering taxis, and we didn’t even know the Swahili word for “No.” Luckily, Barnabas, a monk from the guesthouse, got our attention and brought us to our destination. Around 5 we tried to get some sleep (wanted to be rested for our 7:30 breakfast bell!) Part of the reason I didn’t get to sleep until 5 was that there were cars starting, people talking, and ROOSTERS CROWING outside our window. I’m all for Rockadoodle, but it didn’t seem like the time or the place…
*Miscellaneous:
-Nearby bar that a monk brought us to played “Young Forever” by Jay-Z on repeat for a half hour as I sipped my Coke.
-There’s a “Home Depot” here…I don’t think it’s quite the same.
-We’ve seen a couple small lizards and they’re awesome!
-Apparently there’s a bunch of ways to cut oranges…You may be aware that I’m not an orange fan, but they are growing on me, as they are often the dessert option. I don’t even know if I can describe the cutting style. The peel the skin with a knife but leave the thick pulp, and they slice off a bit of the top. Then, they essentially suck each slice out individually. We’re thinking this style comes from the fact that many people eat oranges while walking on the street, and this allows for everything to be in one hand and not that juicy…Either way, we definitely get some laughs when we try it their way (no success yet, but I’ll keep you posted).
-PitiPiti (prounounced Petey-Petey and possibly misspelled) is a small orange circle with a green stem. It looks like a tiny tomato. It is not a tiny tomato. It is, in fact, the hottest pepper I’ve ever tasted in my life! The other guys took it in one bite without knowing what it was and learned the hard way, and I just cut it up and put it in the rice. It was delicious, but I sweated profusely, had to blow my nose and dry my eyes, and I needed about an hour before my heart slowed down…I haven’t had it again since, but I intend to rise to the challenge…
-At any given time there is noise, and it’s likely religious. There is often loud singing or speaking into microphones from other Christian churches that can be heard throughout the city, and there is also the call to prayer for the Islamic population. The call to prayer is actually beautiful and relaxing. I try to use it as my mindfulness bell (what up Peace Studies Capstone!).
-Another food lesson= Milk is not what I thought. The first day I gladly took it over coffee and tea, and I was definitely surprised at what I got. It was hot, and it was whole… The end.
-Finally, we did make it to the Indian Ocean! We went to the gorgeous Kipepeo (Butterfly) Beach! It had the works! White sand? Check. Bright blue water? Check. Delicious Pineapple/Mango Fanta? Check. Livestock crossing the shore before we could enter the water?...Check? Yep, that happened. Just your run of the mill goats and cows. It was pretty great!
Welp, I’ll try not to do this whole “No blog followed by novel” thing to you again. Until next time, have fun, and know that I am working on getting a Swahili translation for the beginning of “Circle of Life”.
You see, by the time I post this we will have officially been in Dar for over a week. This was not the plan as far as we knew it, but we are taking the advice of a young camper I had back in my days of leading Extreme Faith Camp and “going with the flow”. The week has moved much more slowly than we’re used to, but, even though the plan-changing and uncertainty can get frustrating at times, I’d have to say that I’ve really enjoyed our time here. I have had a ton of time to think, write, and even read! I finished the first book I’ve read just for pleasure in a long time, and it was wonderful! Since I’ve had short stints of internet access the whole time, I figured I’d type this as a Word Document (a.k.a. “novel”) to make up for all of those disappointing hours I’m sure you all spent hitting refresh on this blog in hopes that I would regale you with more stories. Here goes the long and short of it. I’m calling it ridiculousness because a wonderful student of mine named Louie always told me I used the word ‘ridiculous’ too much and then proceeded to refer to me as such. Not all of it is that ridiculous, but I suppose that’s all relative…
*Flights: Nothing too out of the ordinary for the flight process (as you may recall, the itinerary was a bit tiring). However, we got a little excitement when some artillery valve-somethingorother wouldn’t close on the plane that was supposed to shoot us through the sky from Chicago to Frankfurt. I didn’t and don’t know what that valve is all about, but I’m all for making sure the vessel that’s about to shoot me over an ocean is 100% cleared for take-off. After about an hour on the runway (some passengers were pretty upset, but I was holding in my laughter as I thought of Louis C.K.’s “Everything’s Amazing and Nobody’s Happy”…YouTube it- it’s ridiculous!), we finally took off. We learned that our ETA to Frankfurt was about the same time as we were supposed to be leaving there for Ethiopia…whoops. Well, we got off in Franfurt and were shuttled onto a bus that sped us to…another bus! This one sped us to a desk where we heard the flight had already left. After some German arguing amongst Lufthansa workers, we were brought on a short job down some stairs and to…another bus! This bus brought us to a desk where we got boarding passes and proceeded to get on…another bus if I remember correctly. Anyway, we ended up on the plane to Ethiopia, met some cool people, and the rest is history/
*First Night…I Mean Morning: As scheduled, we got in at 3:15 AM EAT (8hrs ahead of Minnesota). We spent some time trying to figure out visa things, but security quickly gave them to us and rushed us out (what we didn’t realize was that we were literally the last passengers in the airport). We exited and realized that we were surrounded by Tanzanians offering taxis, and we didn’t even know the Swahili word for “No.” Luckily, Barnabas, a monk from the guesthouse, got our attention and brought us to our destination. Around 5 we tried to get some sleep (wanted to be rested for our 7:30 breakfast bell!) Part of the reason I didn’t get to sleep until 5 was that there were cars starting, people talking, and ROOSTERS CROWING outside our window. I’m all for Rockadoodle, but it didn’t seem like the time or the place…
*Miscellaneous:
-Nearby bar that a monk brought us to played “Young Forever” by Jay-Z on repeat for a half hour as I sipped my Coke.
-There’s a “Home Depot” here…I don’t think it’s quite the same.
-We’ve seen a couple small lizards and they’re awesome!
-Apparently there’s a bunch of ways to cut oranges…You may be aware that I’m not an orange fan, but they are growing on me, as they are often the dessert option. I don’t even know if I can describe the cutting style. The peel the skin with a knife but leave the thick pulp, and they slice off a bit of the top. Then, they essentially suck each slice out individually. We’re thinking this style comes from the fact that many people eat oranges while walking on the street, and this allows for everything to be in one hand and not that juicy…Either way, we definitely get some laughs when we try it their way (no success yet, but I’ll keep you posted).
-PitiPiti (prounounced Petey-Petey and possibly misspelled) is a small orange circle with a green stem. It looks like a tiny tomato. It is not a tiny tomato. It is, in fact, the hottest pepper I’ve ever tasted in my life! The other guys took it in one bite without knowing what it was and learned the hard way, and I just cut it up and put it in the rice. It was delicious, but I sweated profusely, had to blow my nose and dry my eyes, and I needed about an hour before my heart slowed down…I haven’t had it again since, but I intend to rise to the challenge…
-At any given time there is noise, and it’s likely religious. There is often loud singing or speaking into microphones from other Christian churches that can be heard throughout the city, and there is also the call to prayer for the Islamic population. The call to prayer is actually beautiful and relaxing. I try to use it as my mindfulness bell (what up Peace Studies Capstone!).
-Another food lesson= Milk is not what I thought. The first day I gladly took it over coffee and tea, and I was definitely surprised at what I got. It was hot, and it was whole… The end.
-Finally, we did make it to the Indian Ocean! We went to the gorgeous Kipepeo (Butterfly) Beach! It had the works! White sand? Check. Bright blue water? Check. Delicious Pineapple/Mango Fanta? Check. Livestock crossing the shore before we could enter the water?...Check? Yep, that happened. Just your run of the mill goats and cows. It was pretty great!
Welp, I’ll try not to do this whole “No blog followed by novel” thing to you again. Until next time, have fun, and know that I am working on getting a Swahili translation for the beginning of “Circle of Life”.
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