Welp, in this time of transition, even my blog is transitioning. It's the same URL, but it has a new title for a chapter.
After a great week at home I am now getting set to head to my ACE teaching placement in Mobile, AL where I will be the middle school math and science teacher (and hopefully the basketball coach) at Most Pure Heart of Mary.
As usual, there is no pressure for anyone to read this- I'm going to see if it will continue to be as therapeutic as it was while I was in TZ. If you do read this: I hope you enjoy! I'm sure it will an interesting year!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Zone Goes On
Hey! Long time no blog!
First, as usual, I want to explain the title. One of my favorite current-ish songs is called "The Show Goes On" by Lupe Fiasco. Specifically, the second and third verses have some great lines about what it means to be a teacher and instill hope in youth that may not get a lot of affirmation in their lives, and, hey, that's what I'll be doing the next 2 years! Also, I feel like it's a fitting title as I move on to a new funky adventure (the ACE program through Notre Dame). It will be different than Tanzania (just a bit), but I will still most definitely be in my ZPD (exactly where I want to be).
It's been so phenomenal so far! Don't get me wrong- it's been tough and crazy-busy (even according to my standards), but I've loved every minute of it. I still get to go to daily Mass. The people are wonderful. The campus is gorgeous. The classes and professors are great. This has been my dream for a long time, and I cannot complain one bit.
I have a great math prof. who actually just had his last day for the summer, but he left us with quite the philosophical question that my friend Jer often asked as well: "Are we human, or are we dancer?"
Anyway, I'm teaching summer school in the mornings in preparation for these next 2 years. My first two weeks were Pre-Algebra (nothing too exciting) and...HEALTH. Yep. And our first lesson was...BIRTH. Good times! Let's just say I think our students have a new appreciation for Mother's Day, as well they should!
Last week I was at a middle school science camp, and we disected perch, tested fake vomit (guess who got to use a plastic spoon to try to turn calf liver and Sprite into a liquid resembling vomit), and test hair samples (guess who awkwardly walked around the dorm asking for hair samples). Good times were had by all.
We'll see how the spirit moves me, but my ACE adventures may very well turn into their own blog (after all, Mama Katie H. advised it). However, the main reason for this blog is the following giant announcement:
THE BOOKS MADE IT TO THE DE PAUL SISTERS!!!! That's right, Phoenix Rising 2 is complete, as my wonderful aids Ben and Tyler officially delivered the available textbooks and the extra money (for the rest of the textbooks when they're available) to the de Paul School! It was such a sigh of relief, as you just never know how money transactions will go in the TZ! A giant thank you again to Ben, Tyler, Br. Lew, Mike, and everyone who supported in any way. I'm so excited to hear how the sisters grow that wonderful school! TUMSIFU YESU KRISTU! (Praise Jesus Christ!)
First, as usual, I want to explain the title. One of my favorite current-ish songs is called "The Show Goes On" by Lupe Fiasco. Specifically, the second and third verses have some great lines about what it means to be a teacher and instill hope in youth that may not get a lot of affirmation in their lives, and, hey, that's what I'll be doing the next 2 years! Also, I feel like it's a fitting title as I move on to a new funky adventure (the ACE program through Notre Dame). It will be different than Tanzania (just a bit), but I will still most definitely be in my ZPD (exactly where I want to be).
It's been so phenomenal so far! Don't get me wrong- it's been tough and crazy-busy (even according to my standards), but I've loved every minute of it. I still get to go to daily Mass. The people are wonderful. The campus is gorgeous. The classes and professors are great. This has been my dream for a long time, and I cannot complain one bit.
I have a great math prof. who actually just had his last day for the summer, but he left us with quite the philosophical question that my friend Jer often asked as well: "Are we human, or are we dancer?"
Anyway, I'm teaching summer school in the mornings in preparation for these next 2 years. My first two weeks were Pre-Algebra (nothing too exciting) and...HEALTH. Yep. And our first lesson was...BIRTH. Good times! Let's just say I think our students have a new appreciation for Mother's Day, as well they should!
Last week I was at a middle school science camp, and we disected perch, tested fake vomit (guess who got to use a plastic spoon to try to turn calf liver and Sprite into a liquid resembling vomit), and test hair samples (guess who awkwardly walked around the dorm asking for hair samples). Good times were had by all.
We'll see how the spirit moves me, but my ACE adventures may very well turn into their own blog (after all, Mama Katie H. advised it). However, the main reason for this blog is the following giant announcement:
THE BOOKS MADE IT TO THE DE PAUL SISTERS!!!! That's right, Phoenix Rising 2 is complete, as my wonderful aids Ben and Tyler officially delivered the available textbooks and the extra money (for the rest of the textbooks when they're available) to the de Paul School! It was such a sigh of relief, as you just never know how money transactions will go in the TZ! A giant thank you again to Ben, Tyler, Br. Lew, Mike, and everyone who supported in any way. I'm so excited to hear how the sisters grow that wonderful school! TUMSIFU YESU KRISTU! (Praise Jesus Christ!)
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Photos Already?!
Yep, that's right, it's only been a little under 9 months since I departed for Tanzania, and I've ALREADY posted photos! If you feel like checking some out it should work to just go to the following website:
http://mytzpdinphotos.shutterfly.com/pictures#n_5
*I'm not sure if there are too many or not enough, but this is about a forth of the ones I took...
http://mytzpdinphotos.shutterfly.com/pictures#n_5
*I'm not sure if there are too many or not enough, but this is about a forth of the ones I took...
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Jet Stole Home!
To start with, I should mention that this title was really only chosen because:
a) I can't believe I didn't reference Sandlot in a title until now, and
b) It at least has the word home in it.
This is my 2+ week delayed reaction to let any readers roaming the world out there know that I made it home safe and sound! The travels back were pretty uneventful (we won't talk about the experience of having bed bugs while on an 8 hour bus ride...).
I made it to Iringa to visit seminary graduate Br. Benja, and it was great. They were very welcoming, and I even got to go to the orphanage and hold his 5 month old baby niece! It was incredible.
After Iringa, I headed to Dar, but never made it to the beach. Instead I got my tan by wandering the streets of the city (literally), in search of the textbook store and a few last minute gifts. Overall, it was one last successful adventure.
All flights went off without a hitch, and I met some nice people. I did, however, wake up with only one sandal on on the way from Ethiopia to Germany, and proceeded to not find it for an hour. While getting off the plane, mentally prepared to go the rest of the way home with one shoe, I found it in front of the seat in front of me. Apparently I took it off in my sleep and must have kicked it into the aisle, where it was apparently kicked into the foot space of the woman in front of me (who apparently didn't think this extra sandal taking her already sparse leg room was odd).
My only delay was from Chicago to Minneapolis- there was nothing wrong with the plane; they just couldn't find the last flight attendant... Really? That's what's delaying my long-awaited arrival home? Awesome.
Being home has been wonderful beyond words, as I've relaxed and caught up with family and friends. I even got to go to Notre Dame this past week for an ACE retreat, and it was great.
Also, two important notes:
*I would like to hereby recognize Corey Friend's stellar performance in the blog title contest. He correctly predicted my 7 month title and identified what it referenced after I didn't notice his correct answer (shows how much I read my own blog). Congrats, Corey! I hope that foam marathon visor keeps the sun out of your eyes and the style on you head!
*I would like to apologize for anyone who actually read those long blogs that had no spacing- I promise they were beautifully spaced in my Word Docs, and I didn't notice that the spacing disappeared when I pasted...Yikes!
Well, I guess this officially ends the blog (you thought it already had, didn't you?). Maybe I'll start up another for my funky adventures at Notre Dame and in Mobile...If I do, I'll keep it shorter and more properly spaced!
a) I can't believe I didn't reference Sandlot in a title until now, and
b) It at least has the word home in it.
This is my 2+ week delayed reaction to let any readers roaming the world out there know that I made it home safe and sound! The travels back were pretty uneventful (we won't talk about the experience of having bed bugs while on an 8 hour bus ride...).
I made it to Iringa to visit seminary graduate Br. Benja, and it was great. They were very welcoming, and I even got to go to the orphanage and hold his 5 month old baby niece! It was incredible.
After Iringa, I headed to Dar, but never made it to the beach. Instead I got my tan by wandering the streets of the city (literally), in search of the textbook store and a few last minute gifts. Overall, it was one last successful adventure.
All flights went off without a hitch, and I met some nice people. I did, however, wake up with only one sandal on on the way from Ethiopia to Germany, and proceeded to not find it for an hour. While getting off the plane, mentally prepared to go the rest of the way home with one shoe, I found it in front of the seat in front of me. Apparently I took it off in my sleep and must have kicked it into the aisle, where it was apparently kicked into the foot space of the woman in front of me (who apparently didn't think this extra sandal taking her already sparse leg room was odd).
My only delay was from Chicago to Minneapolis- there was nothing wrong with the plane; they just couldn't find the last flight attendant... Really? That's what's delaying my long-awaited arrival home? Awesome.
Being home has been wonderful beyond words, as I've relaxed and caught up with family and friends. I even got to go to Notre Dame this past week for an ACE retreat, and it was great.
Also, two important notes:
*I would like to hereby recognize Corey Friend's stellar performance in the blog title contest. He correctly predicted my 7 month title and identified what it referenced after I didn't notice his correct answer (shows how much I read my own blog). Congrats, Corey! I hope that foam marathon visor keeps the sun out of your eyes and the style on you head!
*I would like to apologize for anyone who actually read those long blogs that had no spacing- I promise they were beautifully spaced in my Word Docs, and I didn't notice that the spacing disappeared when I pasted...Yikes!
Well, I guess this officially ends the blog (you thought it already had, didn't you?). Maybe I'll start up another for my funky adventures at Notre Dame and in Mobile...If I do, I'll keep it shorter and more properly spaced!
Monday, March 28, 2011
Seven the Hard Way
Welp, there you have it ladies and gentlemen. Before my very eyes our seven month Tanziversary came and went. That means two big things: the blog title has been unveiled (thus meaning the contest is now to name the reference) and….I’M GOING HOME! (*Update: I’m going home to prep to be a member of the ACE crew in Mobile, AL where I’ll spend two years teaching middle school math and science at Most Pure Heart of Mary!) There’s such a flood of emotions that I should apologize right away if this blog post is incoherent. In a few hours I’ll be waking up and catching a ride with good old Br. Patrick to Mlilayoyo (halfway to Songea) to catch a bus to Iringa (halfway to Dar). There I’ll stay the day and night with a student who graduated from the seminary in October. On Wednesday I will catch a bus the rest of the way to Dar es Salaam. I will spend Thursday “resting” in Dar, meaning I will attempt to go to bookstores and get the textbooks from Phoenix Rising 2 ordered and paid for. In super exciting news, we’ve officially broken the $1500 mark, and, based on verbal commitments should be breaking the $2000 mark soon! How beautiful! Yet another huge thanks to all who have been supporting financially and/or spiritually! If textbook stuff goes well, I may treat myself to some time at Kipepeo (Butterfly) Beach in order to go out the way I came in. On Friday at approximately 4:55PM EAT I will be partaking in the miracle of human flight! No foolin’! Hizzah! Thanks to thriftiness, I will be reversing the exact path I came by, meaning stops in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia; Frankfurt, Germany; and Chicago before getting home. My scheduled arrival time is Saturday at 2:09PM CST! Unreal. Family, friends, and Final Four, here I come! I suppose anyone who’s been paying attention to this blog deserves one final update on how classes ended, so here goes: Trade School- Naturally, the last classes started absurdly late (the trade school is the one that I “taught” at last term without actually ever having a class meet in over a month’s time). We ended with some very spirited “Matches” (arithmetic races) on the chalkboard, and it was great to see a bunch of smiles and energy. St. B Boys’ Physics- We finished the unit we were on (Motion in a Straight Line) and even had enough time to make a short video in honor of SJU Ultimate Frisbee! St. B Girls’ Physics- I had one more class with the girls than I did with the boys, and we needed it in order to just finish that last unit. There was one small but hilarious (in my opinion) moment that really brightened the period. You see, the girls’ class has had the (un?)fortunate tendency to occur during rainstorms. With tin roofs, the sound of the rain is amplified about a billion times. (Data is not exact. What do I look like, a science teacher?). Anyway, the girls love that, because it means I have to scream just to convey information, and apparently physics is more exciting the louder it is. Anyway, today I noticed a girl giving the Tanzanian hand symbol for come her out the window, and I thought maybe we had a late student. I looked and, to my surprise, I saw no one. Then I realized she was beckoning the rain to try to get it to pick up so I’d have to yell…AND IT WORKED! This was extra surprising because every time I make the gesture to implore “Cut it out!” to the rain, it never obeys! Aye, Aye, Aye. Seminary- Well, it finally happened. We caught the elusive Ndizi Mwizi!!!! I was definitely wondering if we would! You see, I had intended for it to be the Rector of the school, but I learned on Thursday that he’d be out of town. The morning of the class, I was looking for a certain monk that the students would have loved to catch, but I couldn’t find him (ironic?). Anyway, ten minutes before class I got the Academic Head (a really goofy dude who also teaches them Civics) to agree to do it. Granted, he had no idea what I was talking about, but luckily Mike came to the rescue by meeting him with a basket of bananas and reminding him to come to my class. We used our newfound knowledge of percents and some information from an imaginary watchman to determine that the cafeteria and adjacent kitchen were the most likely places to find the thief, so all 70 of us trounced through those two rooms. Unfortunately, a ton of students were taking a test in the cafeteria, so we had to search silently. Then I noticed the thief was taking a while to sneak into our classroom (who would have thought we’d find him in our very own classroom?!), so I tried to stall and tell the students to check every window twice. After apologizing that I’d be leaving without us finding the thief, we entered the classroom and lo and behold, there was Mike and Mr. Luana with a basket of bananas! We got ‘em! Everyone got a banana, and, as they enjoyed, I tried to do a little role play with Luana (would have been easier if he spoke more English and/or understood what he was doing). Anyway, Mike asked him why he stole the bananas and he said, “I was using them for counting and realized it was better to put one in my pocket.”…Not the line I wrote for him, but it works I suppose. We ended class with a little tribute to Breakthrough Saint Paul for my sake and then one more class cheer for everyone’s sake. It was pretty good. We then learned that I had a golden opportunity to leave Hanga as I entered it: in sheer embarrassment on the soccer ground. Yep, just like our first weekend here, my last weekend here included a St. B students vs. staff soccer match! Luckily, the teachers wanted to win (we tied 2-2), so they only joked about putting me at goalie. Instead I got to be the only sub and never had to play! I just joked with students on the sidelines the whole time! There are eleven players on the field at a time, and they call the positions by numbers. Students kept asking what number I like, and I’d tell them I’m number 12 (sideline). It was in broken Swahili, but they seemed to appreciate it. On Saturday I also got to go over to my favorite teacher (fittingly named Dietrich- the name of a dear, late friend and one of the greatest people I’ve ever met). It was great to eat an egg and look at pictures of his family! On Sunday I did my last load of bucket laundry, and it was refreshing! Then we had our last day of basketball with the seminary, and they let Mike and I play on the same team. Let’s just say there was some definitely domination and some vicious dunks (one hoops is really short). Today after teaching I kind of tried to wander and say bye to as many people as possible (difficult between the village, the monastery, the trade school, the primary school, the secondary school, the seminary, and the other volunteers). After taking a break from packing to do some somersaults with village kids, I finished packing and ended up leaving a bunch of stuff here. Dinner was wonderful as a couple trade school students were there, as well as Br. Patrick, Br. Theodory (the money man), Fr. Gregory (the first Tanzanian monk here), the Abbot (the Abbot), Br. Jerome (head of guests), and Br. Augustine (our guestmaster and server of meals), as well as all the volunteers! There was all sorts of special food including cake, I got to make a speech, the Abbot made a speech, and I received a Masai blanket and a tailored feast shirt. It was just great to be surrounded by the wonderful people that helped make it such a wonderful 7 months (especially my fellow volunteers Mike, Catherine, Resa, Chiara, and Christa). Speaking of 7 months…gosh that’s a long time. Aside from being a reference to something near and dear to my heart, the title has a bit of meaning. First of all, it was hard to say goodbye to everyone and everything I’ve gotten to know here. Even more so, this was by far the most difficult seven month stretch of my life, but doing these seven months the hard way has been so fruitful for me and hopefully some others I’ve been working with here! In honor of this fruitfulness, here’s a little reflection on just a few of the many things I’ve learned here: Stuff I’ve Learned/Re-learned *You CAN re-gift chickens. *I love HOME. *There’s no place like home. *Also, there’s no place like Hanga (as far as I know). *The challenge of life is to be comfortable being uncomfortable. *Jim Valvano was very correct. “If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day.” *Starting each day with a handstand when you get out of bed is great for many reasons. Sure it’s good practice and stretching, but it also gives you nice clarity and perspective on your new day. *After every night there’s a day. *Language plays a big role in communication. Smiles may play just as big a role. *A little Swahili slang goes a long way with students. *My favorite Swahili word is “kuota” because it means all of the following: “to dream, to grow, and to bask”. Beautiful. *If you mix all of the food on your plate, even if you don’t like any of the separate foods, you can eat it. *Ultimate Frisbee is a beautiful thing. *Prayer is wonderful! *It’s never a bad idea to get to know nuns. *Bill from the Peace Corps taught me early on that the following rule works: “In Tanzania, you can do anything until you’re told not to…twice.” *I really like playing sports the right way. *It is possible to read for fun! *Things that are supposed to happen are happening when they’re supposed to happen. *God is good!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Having My Cake and Eating It Too!
Well, I officially turned 23 years of age today, and I suppose that marks a good time for reflection, and that means updates for you fine people!
The marathon fundraiser is still very much a part of our lives, as we are still accepting donations, and we are going into Songea tomorrow to see the sisters and talk about which books exactly they want to order! This is extra exciting as one of the sisters has been to India and back since we saw them last (that means curry!!!!). *Post weekend update- They did have curry, and it was delicious! They were also very pumped about the money we’ve raised so far. Also, Songea gets “ESPN International”, so we got to watch about one half of one March Madness game before power went out (I almost cried tears of joy)!*
Speaking of running, I went for a little jog with Mike and another guest named Herold. Should have been simple enough…and then a man on a bicycle came. I decided that would be a good time to move over so he could pass, and my foot landed on a gravel-covered slope. Let’s just say gravity did its work from there and I found myself on the ground shortly thereafter. Mike was behind me when this all went down (pun intended), and he assures me the fall looked pretty cool. Anyway, it was one of those times when you feel that little sting on your leg and look down to see an intense mess of blood. After finishing the run (frightening the villagers a bit), I took a shower. Again, this is normally a simple task. Well, it took me three tries before I could force myself to actually let water continually hit my leg. However, we watched the movie 127 Hours tonight (Catherine brought it from the US!), and I feel a little silly for struggling so much with my little sting.
I suppose now is the time I should forego a segue and skip straight to my exciting news! (We really did have cake tonight, and I consider this news “eating it too”). *For those of you that know about my decision-making process that brought me here to Tanzania, some of this next part may make more sense.* Let’s just say that 2 days ago I received the e-mail that I waited 363 days for…I HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO THE “ALLIANCE FOR CATHOLIC EDUCATION” (ACE) PROGRAM THROUGH NOTRE DAME!!!! This has been my dream program (volunteer/Master’s degree) since sophomore year, and I was pretty ecstatic to receive this news! When I read the e-mail, a bunch of glorious celebrations rushed through my mind, including but not limited to the Form 3’s rushing the field after beating the Form 4’s 2-1 in the championship of the Seminary soccer tournament earlier that day, Kobe Bryant’s clench-jawed/underbite subtle fist-pump, Rudy being carried off the field, Jim Valvano running around the court searching for someone to hug (my all-time favorite), and Michael Jordan flying through the air swinging his fist across his body after “the shot on Ehlo”. It was much like a celebration version of the wonderful YouTube video “40 Inspirational Speeches in 2 Minutes”. Anyway, it turns out I had a terrible cold that day and could barely feel my head. Internet was working fine, but it took 2.5 hours for my e-mail to work, which was fine, because the e-mail had only been sent about 20 minutes before I was able to check it anyway! What I’m trying to say is, even though I was celebrating inside, by that time of the night, all I could do was sit in thankful disbelief that it was, in fact, real life.
Part 2 of this exciting news is that fact that I need to be home for an orientation/retreat for ACE in April, so I am now in the process of booking a flight HOME in the first couple days of April! YES!
It’s a little weird/sad to think I only have one more week to teach here, but I’m pumped to go home. I broke the news to my classes today, and that was kind of tough…we’ll see what next Friday is like.
Now that I’m headed out of here soon, I have to work hard to get everything finished that I wanted to, but, before I get to work, I’ll throw you a few more classroom updates.
In physics we just finished talking about equilibrium, and we learned about stability. In other words, this was an exciting chance for students to push their teacher (that’s me) while he stood in different positions with varying stability. I was also going to have two students push against each other to prove a point, but one student pushed before I said to and the other kid wasn’t ready. No one was hurt in the making of this teachable moment. However, I let the kid that got pushed sit down and had the one that did the pushing stand in front of the class. I proceeded to sprint at him as if I was about to tackle him and stopped right before making contact. The class erupted, and luckily the student did exactly what I expected/hoped. He got low and braced himself (lower center of gravity=increased stability!- See class, I told you this stuff was relevant!).
This next story might be a “you had to be there” one, but it made my day today. Two girls that were especially engaged in class today (they’re not always big fans of speaking in class) just were not understanding the difference between “distance” and “displacement”. I explained the example they didn’t understand and then suggested we try a trickier example to see if they got it. I explained the new situation in which someone essentially walks in a 14m circle back to the point where they started. I said, “What is the displacement?”, and they responded, “0?”. I said, “YES!”, and they both got big grins and gave each other a low five under the desk. It was the most enthusiasm I’ve seen students exude when going from not understanding to understanding since I’ve been here!
Speaking of things that made my day, this morning when I walked through the guesthouse halls to go to Mass at the Seminary, two chickens meandered out of the storage room and just started roaming the halls (neither was Rambo for those wondering). They just strutted around, left a gift in the middle of the hall, and made their way out the door. Naturally.
As an added birthday bonus, I had a great afternoon in the village today. Every morning at the monastery Mass there is a wonderful elderly couple in the front row. After Mass I always great them with the most formal and respectful Kiswahili way, and the man with two canes always stops, says, “Asante, Asante, Asante sana.” (thank you, thank you, thank you very much), and shakes my hand. We used to call him AsanteMan (see last sentence), and he always said I should visit their house someday. Yesterday I told him I wouldn’t be in Hanga much longer and he said, “tomorrow afternoon you will arrive at our home” in Kiswahili. Okay.
So, this afternoon, I went to the place they described (neither speaks a lick of English), and there was a guy a little older than me waiting outside the house I thought I was shooting for. He said, “Kaboga?”, and I remembered this was some word the elderly man said was a nickname of his the other day and realized it apparently doubled as a code word, so I said yes and the young man led me into the house. I sat with Frances (Kaboga) and Martha and their son for about 1 hour, and we just talked. It was almost solely Kiswahili (I learned in the waning minutes that the son, did in fact have decent English). It was by no means an advanced conversation, especially since they spent most of the time thanking me for coming. Their little toddler granddaughter waddled in and greeted me with the aforementioned formal greeting and reached up to touch my hair (the accompanying action for little kids using this greeting). After allowing (embracing) this, I got her to give me a fist pound…then she fell asleep. Anyway, it was a wonderful experience, and they sent their greetings to my family back home and said they were happy to be my “African family”. Good times.
Finally, I should point out that the contest from last blog is still open and winner-less. It’s anyone’s game, and the next blog should be the 7 month Tanziversary blog, so the clock is ticking. The only hint I have is that the title will be based on the amount of months. I don’t what’s more suspenseful: finding out the blog title or finding out who the Ndizi Mwizi is…speaking of which, I should go order 70 bananas soon!
The marathon fundraiser is still very much a part of our lives, as we are still accepting donations, and we are going into Songea tomorrow to see the sisters and talk about which books exactly they want to order! This is extra exciting as one of the sisters has been to India and back since we saw them last (that means curry!!!!). *Post weekend update- They did have curry, and it was delicious! They were also very pumped about the money we’ve raised so far. Also, Songea gets “ESPN International”, so we got to watch about one half of one March Madness game before power went out (I almost cried tears of joy)!*
Speaking of running, I went for a little jog with Mike and another guest named Herold. Should have been simple enough…and then a man on a bicycle came. I decided that would be a good time to move over so he could pass, and my foot landed on a gravel-covered slope. Let’s just say gravity did its work from there and I found myself on the ground shortly thereafter. Mike was behind me when this all went down (pun intended), and he assures me the fall looked pretty cool. Anyway, it was one of those times when you feel that little sting on your leg and look down to see an intense mess of blood. After finishing the run (frightening the villagers a bit), I took a shower. Again, this is normally a simple task. Well, it took me three tries before I could force myself to actually let water continually hit my leg. However, we watched the movie 127 Hours tonight (Catherine brought it from the US!), and I feel a little silly for struggling so much with my little sting.
I suppose now is the time I should forego a segue and skip straight to my exciting news! (We really did have cake tonight, and I consider this news “eating it too”). *For those of you that know about my decision-making process that brought me here to Tanzania, some of this next part may make more sense.* Let’s just say that 2 days ago I received the e-mail that I waited 363 days for…I HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO THE “ALLIANCE FOR CATHOLIC EDUCATION” (ACE) PROGRAM THROUGH NOTRE DAME!!!! This has been my dream program (volunteer/Master’s degree) since sophomore year, and I was pretty ecstatic to receive this news! When I read the e-mail, a bunch of glorious celebrations rushed through my mind, including but not limited to the Form 3’s rushing the field after beating the Form 4’s 2-1 in the championship of the Seminary soccer tournament earlier that day, Kobe Bryant’s clench-jawed/underbite subtle fist-pump, Rudy being carried off the field, Jim Valvano running around the court searching for someone to hug (my all-time favorite), and Michael Jordan flying through the air swinging his fist across his body after “the shot on Ehlo”. It was much like a celebration version of the wonderful YouTube video “40 Inspirational Speeches in 2 Minutes”. Anyway, it turns out I had a terrible cold that day and could barely feel my head. Internet was working fine, but it took 2.5 hours for my e-mail to work, which was fine, because the e-mail had only been sent about 20 minutes before I was able to check it anyway! What I’m trying to say is, even though I was celebrating inside, by that time of the night, all I could do was sit in thankful disbelief that it was, in fact, real life.
Part 2 of this exciting news is that fact that I need to be home for an orientation/retreat for ACE in April, so I am now in the process of booking a flight HOME in the first couple days of April! YES!
It’s a little weird/sad to think I only have one more week to teach here, but I’m pumped to go home. I broke the news to my classes today, and that was kind of tough…we’ll see what next Friday is like.
Now that I’m headed out of here soon, I have to work hard to get everything finished that I wanted to, but, before I get to work, I’ll throw you a few more classroom updates.
In physics we just finished talking about equilibrium, and we learned about stability. In other words, this was an exciting chance for students to push their teacher (that’s me) while he stood in different positions with varying stability. I was also going to have two students push against each other to prove a point, but one student pushed before I said to and the other kid wasn’t ready. No one was hurt in the making of this teachable moment. However, I let the kid that got pushed sit down and had the one that did the pushing stand in front of the class. I proceeded to sprint at him as if I was about to tackle him and stopped right before making contact. The class erupted, and luckily the student did exactly what I expected/hoped. He got low and braced himself (lower center of gravity=increased stability!- See class, I told you this stuff was relevant!).
This next story might be a “you had to be there” one, but it made my day today. Two girls that were especially engaged in class today (they’re not always big fans of speaking in class) just were not understanding the difference between “distance” and “displacement”. I explained the example they didn’t understand and then suggested we try a trickier example to see if they got it. I explained the new situation in which someone essentially walks in a 14m circle back to the point where they started. I said, “What is the displacement?”, and they responded, “0?”. I said, “YES!”, and they both got big grins and gave each other a low five under the desk. It was the most enthusiasm I’ve seen students exude when going from not understanding to understanding since I’ve been here!
Speaking of things that made my day, this morning when I walked through the guesthouse halls to go to Mass at the Seminary, two chickens meandered out of the storage room and just started roaming the halls (neither was Rambo for those wondering). They just strutted around, left a gift in the middle of the hall, and made their way out the door. Naturally.
As an added birthday bonus, I had a great afternoon in the village today. Every morning at the monastery Mass there is a wonderful elderly couple in the front row. After Mass I always great them with the most formal and respectful Kiswahili way, and the man with two canes always stops, says, “Asante, Asante, Asante sana.” (thank you, thank you, thank you very much), and shakes my hand. We used to call him AsanteMan (see last sentence), and he always said I should visit their house someday. Yesterday I told him I wouldn’t be in Hanga much longer and he said, “tomorrow afternoon you will arrive at our home” in Kiswahili. Okay.
So, this afternoon, I went to the place they described (neither speaks a lick of English), and there was a guy a little older than me waiting outside the house I thought I was shooting for. He said, “Kaboga?”, and I remembered this was some word the elderly man said was a nickname of his the other day and realized it apparently doubled as a code word, so I said yes and the young man led me into the house. I sat with Frances (Kaboga) and Martha and their son for about 1 hour, and we just talked. It was almost solely Kiswahili (I learned in the waning minutes that the son, did in fact have decent English). It was by no means an advanced conversation, especially since they spent most of the time thanking me for coming. Their little toddler granddaughter waddled in and greeted me with the aforementioned formal greeting and reached up to touch my hair (the accompanying action for little kids using this greeting). After allowing (embracing) this, I got her to give me a fist pound…then she fell asleep. Anyway, it was a wonderful experience, and they sent their greetings to my family back home and said they were happy to be my “African family”. Good times.
Finally, I should point out that the contest from last blog is still open and winner-less. It’s anyone’s game, and the next blog should be the 7 month Tanziversary blog, so the clock is ticking. The only hint I have is that the title will be based on the amount of months. I don’t what’s more suspenseful: finding out the blog title or finding out who the Ndizi Mwizi is…speaking of which, I should go order 70 bananas soon!
Friday, March 11, 2011
What's Up?
I apologize for the mildly boring title, but please know that it is very much intended to be a shout out to the song “What’s Up? (What’s Goin’ On?)” by 4 Non-Blondes. Also, I feel it’s fitting, as this blog will be an attempt to simply summarize a little bit about what’s been going on here in our everyday lives in Hanga.
Speaking of titles, I think I mentioned long ago that I now seem to narrate my own life with blogs in my head and blog titles for experiences. While sometimes the titles are difficult to decide on (yes, I do put too much thought into this stuff, and yes, I do enjoy it thoroughly), there is one title I’ve had in mind since the first month. That is blog title is for our 7 month Tanziversary. So, because sometimes I feel like making this blog more like a magazine (remember the “Great American Influence” segment?), I’ve decided to create a little contest for any of you fine people who happen to be reading this. The winner will receive a prize I received from my marathon experience… The question?... What will this 7 month Tanziversay blog title be? (Note: If no one tries/guesses correctly before the blog, the question will be “What is the title a reference to?”) The first person with a correct answer relayed to me through any medium (e-mail, comment, Facebook, Skype, messenger dove, telegram, etc) will get to pick between 2 lovely prizes. *Offer good only at participating computers. Not redeemable for cash. Contest is open to all U.S. states except Alaska, and all countries other than Guam. There is no reason for that, I just felt like a contest should always be accompanied by gratuitous and mostly arbitrary fine print. I cannot be held responsible for any eye damage caused by the reading of this fine print.
Speaking of the MARATHON…we’re not done yet! We’re still hoping to keep pushing that total up so that we can get the sisters started with somewhere around 300 books if possible. Thus, the fundraiser will be continuing for a while, so any help you can offer in spreading the word is still greatly appreciated! On a non-fundraising note, I’d like to point out that some people say marathons are a great way to get into shape. I say it’s a great way to get a slap in the face telling you that you should get into shape- I’ve run three times since the big day, which is exponentially more than the first month after my last one! Hizzah!
Alright, now for the everyday life updates I promised. First of all, a small victory:
Last Friday was quite possibly my busiest day in Hanga (teaching nonstop from 8:50 until 2 while somehow opening the St. B. library for short stints in between/slightly during some classes, followed by some very important business in Songea. I actually came near managing to have a stressful day here. Anyway, after the Songea business was taken care of, I had to wait in a hotel entrance in Songea during a 10 minute downpour. In this time I spoke with the hotel attendant for the whole 10 minutes…IN KISWAHILI! Certainly the sentence structure was simple and the grammar was likely flawed, but we really talked! It felt so good. We mostly talked about languages (somewhat ironically), and it just felt really good to have a long-ish conversation that ended with me saying I had to go instead of me trying to explain that my Kiswahili knowledge had been exhausted.
That Saturday morning I returned to Hanga on the bus, and a teacher from the seminary rode up on his bike and asked if I was ready to head to the school picnic. Luckily, I talked him into giving me 15 minutes to get myself together, and then we were off. We bicycled to Nakagugu (that church/junior high about 8km into the bush I like to run to), and I realized it was the first time I biked that trail since very early on when Jack, my bike, decided he wanted to lay down and rest for a while (I hit a bump and fell off my bike). This time went much more smoothly, as the other teacher had a bike that doesn’t go up hills well (1 speed) and I had one that doesn’t go down hills well (no brakes). Thus, we took it slow. Anyway, it was great to spend a Saturday leisurely biking to a beautiful day of rest and picnicking. Most of the time at the picnic we just kind of sat around, but I did partake in a little keepaway with the students. Basically, there was a basketball, but no court or hoop. Luckily, the soccer field was made of hard rock ground, so we dribbled on there. I very much enjoyed running around like a goof as little students lunged for the ball not realizing the dribbling behind my back is possible and actually not so difficult. After the games we sat on the ground and ate the lamb that had just been roasted. It was pretty darn good!
As for classes, I’ve been very busy grading, since all of my classes had some sort of review or test while I was gone for the marathon. In physics we are now learning about equilibrium. You know what that means…that’s right, we’re talking about rotational movement and doors! We now know that, even if there are bricks holding a door open, a student can push it closed with just one finger if s/he pushes at the very far edge of the door (away from the hinge). However, if this student tries to use just one finger to push on the door right next to the hinge, the student will not be able to move the door and is very likely to pretend like his/her finger is hurt just like Aliki did when he demonstrated. (Please note, being called Aliki seems to have instilled a somewhat annoying habit of me speaking in the third person).
In the trade school, the first years are learning about “order of operations” (I learned this as either PERMDAS or “Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally”, but they learn it as BODMAS). Anyway, we talked about why following an order is important, and they really seemed to wake up when I put on my shoe and tried to put a sock on over it. The effect was basically, “Ha! That’s silly! Clearly the order is important! I get it.” This was, of course, nonverbal, as they only laughed and nodded yes with grins as if to say, “That wasn’t really necessary, but thanks for the entertainment.”
The second year trade school students are learning about profit and loss (very pertinent and also something they requested). Today I attempted to “take them to the market”, as they all received the name of the item they could sell and how much they had to pay to make/buy it. I tried to be simple, clear, and explicit, but they just were not understanding the directions of the activity, and the class period was a bit of a flop, although some students really got into it, and eventually they all participated. I personally had a great day at “the market”, as I went in with a lowly notebook to sell, made money on that, bought some chipsi mayai, and then sold that and made even more money! This worked out perfectly, because the girl I ripped off ended up with loss, so we had a good class example for both profit and loss (don’t worry, she took it well, and it was in the name of mathematics).
Lastly, there’s the seminary. They recently started “league play” during sports, meaning each form will get a chance to do battle with each form on the soccer field (and supposedly the basketball court, dance floor, and other places?). Anyway, Monday was the day to get the Form 4 vs. Form 1 match out of the way. If you asked anyone, including the Form 1’s, they’d just give a concerned raise of the eyes and tell you it was going to be rough. To frame this a bit, Form 4’s are studying topics fairly similar to those of our 10th graders, and are probably an average age of something like our high school upperclassmen (maybe 16-18). The Form 1’s are studying what is roughly equivalent to our 7th graders, and, while they range in age from probably 12 to 40, most of the soccer players were probably in the 12-13 range. In other words, this is somewhat analogous to a 8th grade vs. 11th grade match, which I think may be even more lopsided than a freshmen vs. senior game, because so many of these form 1’s just haven’t done any of their growing yet. Anyway, I digress. The point is, when they took that field, the Form 4’s towered over the Form 1’s. The game started, and something amazing happened. The ball was almost always near the goal the Form 1’s were protecting, but they just kept being able to kick it away. The Form 4’s kept charging, outrunning, and outmuscling, but the Form 1’s kept scrappily finding away to boot that ball out of bounds and make them start again. The goalie was on fire, and there was a particularly pint-sized littler baller that was able to weave his way through the big guys and advance the ball a handful of times (for soccer fans, picture a mini-Nasri). It was an inspired first half, and the score at halftime was still 0-0 (nil-nil for soccer folk), and the whole school (aside from Form 4’s) rushed to the Form 1 huddle to fan them with shirts. In the second half it rained somewhat heavily for a while and students on the sideline why I wasn’t running inside to take cover so that I don’t catch malaria. I attempted to explain that a) there was no way I was going to miss this epic half and b) you can’t “catch” malaria from the rain- malaria comes from mosquitoes and something we call a “cold” can be caused in part by standing in the rain. They looked at me like I was crazy. Perfect. Anyway, the second half progressed much like the first, with our Form 1 goalie making a couple of great saves, a few blown opportunities by the Form 4’s, and an injury (stalling?- they have to go in at 6 no matter what) to the goalie, the whistle was eventually blown and it was official, my little boys pulled off the unthinkable: A DRAW (tie)!!!!!! I fully expected to take part in a jubilant rushing of the field, but I got to witness something a lot more entertaining. The looks on the faces of the Form 1’s was, indeed, jubilant, but there was no field-rush. Instead, everyone joyfully sprinted into the school building! It was just a mob of shocked and excited little guys who wanted to run and be happy, but also knew it was time to go inside, so that’s where they ran. Probably more than that, it had a Derek Fischer-esque effect of “We need to get off this field now before they have a chance to take this away from us!- (If we do penalty kicks, we are in trouble!)” It was simultaneously exciting and hilarious, and this guy was pretty proud of all of them.
As for the seminary math class, we also had some excitement recently. We are wrapping up our unit on all things fractions, and today was a jam-packed day. First of all, it was their first day with their school uniforms- until today they’d been the 66 kids that wore whatever they had while they waited to join the rest of the school in wearing the uniform. They looked pretty spiffy. Also, last class, after a review test, I promised one visitor would join us on Tuesday (today). When class started today (Tuesday), I commented on their uniforms, and then I introduced Catherine, Mike’s wonderful girlfriend who just arrived and will be here for a couple months. (I should note here that it is wonderful to have her positiveness, her American-ness, and her CSB/SJU-ness here!...not to mention the American food and movies she brought!). Anyway, I after introducing her, I explained we would have yet another guest coming later…(insert suspense here). Of course, I had to congratulate them on the great match, and we did a celebratory “Wake Up” cheer, and it was definitely the loudest and most harmonious they’ve been yet! It was pretty cool.
About 40 minutes into class, as we were just beginning to discuss dividing fractions, I received a phone call on my cell phone which had mysteriously been switched to high volume (I never thought I would actually use the “Activate Fake Call” feature on this goofy Tanzanian phone…who knew?). Luckily, it was my “guest” who needed help finding the classroom, so I told my class I’d be back (apparently leaving Catherine to help the class solve the example I had just put on the board). I sprinted to the teachers’ room and they laughed at me as I put on my costume (I’m a little embarrassed to say that this is the first time I’ve used a costume in class here). (The following story will be an example of what some people believe is unnecessary in education. I believe that a little pizzazz in a lesson every once in a while is necessary, especially if it will help the students remember/understand something important.) I ran back to the classroom with no shoes, a t-shirt with the words “numerator” and “denominator” taped to the back, a pillow tied to my head, and sunglasses on the back of my head. I entered the classroom with my back facing the class and explained that Aliki (this time not third person) had to use the bathroom and that I was the promised visitor, Mr. Divisor…Mr. Fraction Divisor. Without turning to face the class, I continued to explain about “multiplying by a reciprocal”, and, when the time was right, I did a simple headstand in front of the class (falling into the blackboard on the first attempt, naturally). Anyway, doing the headstand (I was now facing the class, although upside down) revealed to the class that the front of my shirt, when upside down, read, “Original Denominator” over “Original Numerator”- I was now the reciprocal of my original self. After much more explaining and sweating (apparently pillow-hats are warm), class was ready to end, and we did one more “Wake Up”, with me standing on my head (that part was absolutely just for fun and not educational, I am well aware). Anyway, they did a very good job with our practice problems at the end of class in dividing fractions. Odds are they already knew how, but, hey, at least that means I didn’t leave them more confused than they started if that is the case. The teachers kept laughing and referring to my pillow as my “teaching aid”, but the Rector of the school called it my sleeping aid (unintentionally?...), which I thought was pretty funny.
Well, so much for a short update. Anyway, I am excited for the blessings of Lent to begin, and, as always, I am missing you all.
Speaking of titles, I think I mentioned long ago that I now seem to narrate my own life with blogs in my head and blog titles for experiences. While sometimes the titles are difficult to decide on (yes, I do put too much thought into this stuff, and yes, I do enjoy it thoroughly), there is one title I’ve had in mind since the first month. That is blog title is for our 7 month Tanziversary. So, because sometimes I feel like making this blog more like a magazine (remember the “Great American Influence” segment?), I’ve decided to create a little contest for any of you fine people who happen to be reading this. The winner will receive a prize I received from my marathon experience… The question?... What will this 7 month Tanziversay blog title be? (Note: If no one tries/guesses correctly before the blog, the question will be “What is the title a reference to?”) The first person with a correct answer relayed to me through any medium (e-mail, comment, Facebook, Skype, messenger dove, telegram, etc) will get to pick between 2 lovely prizes. *Offer good only at participating computers. Not redeemable for cash. Contest is open to all U.S. states except Alaska, and all countries other than Guam. There is no reason for that, I just felt like a contest should always be accompanied by gratuitous and mostly arbitrary fine print. I cannot be held responsible for any eye damage caused by the reading of this fine print.
Speaking of the MARATHON…we’re not done yet! We’re still hoping to keep pushing that total up so that we can get the sisters started with somewhere around 300 books if possible. Thus, the fundraiser will be continuing for a while, so any help you can offer in spreading the word is still greatly appreciated! On a non-fundraising note, I’d like to point out that some people say marathons are a great way to get into shape. I say it’s a great way to get a slap in the face telling you that you should get into shape- I’ve run three times since the big day, which is exponentially more than the first month after my last one! Hizzah!
Alright, now for the everyday life updates I promised. First of all, a small victory:
Last Friday was quite possibly my busiest day in Hanga (teaching nonstop from 8:50 until 2 while somehow opening the St. B. library for short stints in between/slightly during some classes, followed by some very important business in Songea. I actually came near managing to have a stressful day here. Anyway, after the Songea business was taken care of, I had to wait in a hotel entrance in Songea during a 10 minute downpour. In this time I spoke with the hotel attendant for the whole 10 minutes…IN KISWAHILI! Certainly the sentence structure was simple and the grammar was likely flawed, but we really talked! It felt so good. We mostly talked about languages (somewhat ironically), and it just felt really good to have a long-ish conversation that ended with me saying I had to go instead of me trying to explain that my Kiswahili knowledge had been exhausted.
That Saturday morning I returned to Hanga on the bus, and a teacher from the seminary rode up on his bike and asked if I was ready to head to the school picnic. Luckily, I talked him into giving me 15 minutes to get myself together, and then we were off. We bicycled to Nakagugu (that church/junior high about 8km into the bush I like to run to), and I realized it was the first time I biked that trail since very early on when Jack, my bike, decided he wanted to lay down and rest for a while (I hit a bump and fell off my bike). This time went much more smoothly, as the other teacher had a bike that doesn’t go up hills well (1 speed) and I had one that doesn’t go down hills well (no brakes). Thus, we took it slow. Anyway, it was great to spend a Saturday leisurely biking to a beautiful day of rest and picnicking. Most of the time at the picnic we just kind of sat around, but I did partake in a little keepaway with the students. Basically, there was a basketball, but no court or hoop. Luckily, the soccer field was made of hard rock ground, so we dribbled on there. I very much enjoyed running around like a goof as little students lunged for the ball not realizing the dribbling behind my back is possible and actually not so difficult. After the games we sat on the ground and ate the lamb that had just been roasted. It was pretty darn good!
As for classes, I’ve been very busy grading, since all of my classes had some sort of review or test while I was gone for the marathon. In physics we are now learning about equilibrium. You know what that means…that’s right, we’re talking about rotational movement and doors! We now know that, even if there are bricks holding a door open, a student can push it closed with just one finger if s/he pushes at the very far edge of the door (away from the hinge). However, if this student tries to use just one finger to push on the door right next to the hinge, the student will not be able to move the door and is very likely to pretend like his/her finger is hurt just like Aliki did when he demonstrated. (Please note, being called Aliki seems to have instilled a somewhat annoying habit of me speaking in the third person).
In the trade school, the first years are learning about “order of operations” (I learned this as either PERMDAS or “Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally”, but they learn it as BODMAS). Anyway, we talked about why following an order is important, and they really seemed to wake up when I put on my shoe and tried to put a sock on over it. The effect was basically, “Ha! That’s silly! Clearly the order is important! I get it.” This was, of course, nonverbal, as they only laughed and nodded yes with grins as if to say, “That wasn’t really necessary, but thanks for the entertainment.”
The second year trade school students are learning about profit and loss (very pertinent and also something they requested). Today I attempted to “take them to the market”, as they all received the name of the item they could sell and how much they had to pay to make/buy it. I tried to be simple, clear, and explicit, but they just were not understanding the directions of the activity, and the class period was a bit of a flop, although some students really got into it, and eventually they all participated. I personally had a great day at “the market”, as I went in with a lowly notebook to sell, made money on that, bought some chipsi mayai, and then sold that and made even more money! This worked out perfectly, because the girl I ripped off ended up with loss, so we had a good class example for both profit and loss (don’t worry, she took it well, and it was in the name of mathematics).
Lastly, there’s the seminary. They recently started “league play” during sports, meaning each form will get a chance to do battle with each form on the soccer field (and supposedly the basketball court, dance floor, and other places?). Anyway, Monday was the day to get the Form 4 vs. Form 1 match out of the way. If you asked anyone, including the Form 1’s, they’d just give a concerned raise of the eyes and tell you it was going to be rough. To frame this a bit, Form 4’s are studying topics fairly similar to those of our 10th graders, and are probably an average age of something like our high school upperclassmen (maybe 16-18). The Form 1’s are studying what is roughly equivalent to our 7th graders, and, while they range in age from probably 12 to 40, most of the soccer players were probably in the 12-13 range. In other words, this is somewhat analogous to a 8th grade vs. 11th grade match, which I think may be even more lopsided than a freshmen vs. senior game, because so many of these form 1’s just haven’t done any of their growing yet. Anyway, I digress. The point is, when they took that field, the Form 4’s towered over the Form 1’s. The game started, and something amazing happened. The ball was almost always near the goal the Form 1’s were protecting, but they just kept being able to kick it away. The Form 4’s kept charging, outrunning, and outmuscling, but the Form 1’s kept scrappily finding away to boot that ball out of bounds and make them start again. The goalie was on fire, and there was a particularly pint-sized littler baller that was able to weave his way through the big guys and advance the ball a handful of times (for soccer fans, picture a mini-Nasri). It was an inspired first half, and the score at halftime was still 0-0 (nil-nil for soccer folk), and the whole school (aside from Form 4’s) rushed to the Form 1 huddle to fan them with shirts. In the second half it rained somewhat heavily for a while and students on the sideline why I wasn’t running inside to take cover so that I don’t catch malaria. I attempted to explain that a) there was no way I was going to miss this epic half and b) you can’t “catch” malaria from the rain- malaria comes from mosquitoes and something we call a “cold” can be caused in part by standing in the rain. They looked at me like I was crazy. Perfect. Anyway, the second half progressed much like the first, with our Form 1 goalie making a couple of great saves, a few blown opportunities by the Form 4’s, and an injury (stalling?- they have to go in at 6 no matter what) to the goalie, the whistle was eventually blown and it was official, my little boys pulled off the unthinkable: A DRAW (tie)!!!!!! I fully expected to take part in a jubilant rushing of the field, but I got to witness something a lot more entertaining. The looks on the faces of the Form 1’s was, indeed, jubilant, but there was no field-rush. Instead, everyone joyfully sprinted into the school building! It was just a mob of shocked and excited little guys who wanted to run and be happy, but also knew it was time to go inside, so that’s where they ran. Probably more than that, it had a Derek Fischer-esque effect of “We need to get off this field now before they have a chance to take this away from us!- (If we do penalty kicks, we are in trouble!)” It was simultaneously exciting and hilarious, and this guy was pretty proud of all of them.
As for the seminary math class, we also had some excitement recently. We are wrapping up our unit on all things fractions, and today was a jam-packed day. First of all, it was their first day with their school uniforms- until today they’d been the 66 kids that wore whatever they had while they waited to join the rest of the school in wearing the uniform. They looked pretty spiffy. Also, last class, after a review test, I promised one visitor would join us on Tuesday (today). When class started today (Tuesday), I commented on their uniforms, and then I introduced Catherine, Mike’s wonderful girlfriend who just arrived and will be here for a couple months. (I should note here that it is wonderful to have her positiveness, her American-ness, and her CSB/SJU-ness here!...not to mention the American food and movies she brought!). Anyway, I after introducing her, I explained we would have yet another guest coming later…(insert suspense here). Of course, I had to congratulate them on the great match, and we did a celebratory “Wake Up” cheer, and it was definitely the loudest and most harmonious they’ve been yet! It was pretty cool.
About 40 minutes into class, as we were just beginning to discuss dividing fractions, I received a phone call on my cell phone which had mysteriously been switched to high volume (I never thought I would actually use the “Activate Fake Call” feature on this goofy Tanzanian phone…who knew?). Luckily, it was my “guest” who needed help finding the classroom, so I told my class I’d be back (apparently leaving Catherine to help the class solve the example I had just put on the board). I sprinted to the teachers’ room and they laughed at me as I put on my costume (I’m a little embarrassed to say that this is the first time I’ve used a costume in class here). (The following story will be an example of what some people believe is unnecessary in education. I believe that a little pizzazz in a lesson every once in a while is necessary, especially if it will help the students remember/understand something important.) I ran back to the classroom with no shoes, a t-shirt with the words “numerator” and “denominator” taped to the back, a pillow tied to my head, and sunglasses on the back of my head. I entered the classroom with my back facing the class and explained that Aliki (this time not third person) had to use the bathroom and that I was the promised visitor, Mr. Divisor…Mr. Fraction Divisor. Without turning to face the class, I continued to explain about “multiplying by a reciprocal”, and, when the time was right, I did a simple headstand in front of the class (falling into the blackboard on the first attempt, naturally). Anyway, doing the headstand (I was now facing the class, although upside down) revealed to the class that the front of my shirt, when upside down, read, “Original Denominator” over “Original Numerator”- I was now the reciprocal of my original self. After much more explaining and sweating (apparently pillow-hats are warm), class was ready to end, and we did one more “Wake Up”, with me standing on my head (that part was absolutely just for fun and not educational, I am well aware). Anyway, they did a very good job with our practice problems at the end of class in dividing fractions. Odds are they already knew how, but, hey, at least that means I didn’t leave them more confused than they started if that is the case. The teachers kept laughing and referring to my pillow as my “teaching aid”, but the Rector of the school called it my sleeping aid (unintentionally?...), which I thought was pretty funny.
Well, so much for a short update. Anyway, I am excited for the blessings of Lent to begin, and, as always, I am missing you all.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Angels in the Mountains
Well, it is official. I can now add “ran a marathon in Africa at Mt. Kilimanjaro” to the list of things I’ve done in those beautiful things we call Zubaz! Hizzah!
Because of my lack of internet use for the last week, I am going to attempt to give the full(ish) rundown as best I can in this one blog in somewhat chronological order.
Thursday: Leave Hanga at 4:45am and begin the journey to Morogoro. I made sure to bring Minnesota along with me in the form of Zubaz, socks (sent by the Carlsons), and highlighter (sent by the Hansens) that wrote on my t-shirt better than a Sharpie (who knew?). We arrived around 4:30 and got picked up by a monk friend who took us to the beautiful seminary he is studying at. After some food and prayer, we were quite ready for bed!
Friday: Leave Morogoro at around 8am and begin the journey to Moshi. Luckily, our seats on the bus were right behind two American friends from our region in the Peace Corps! We arrived at the YMCA (yep, as in the song) in Moshi around 4:30 and got settled in. That night we just kind of wandered around Moshi, got some food, and went to bed early.
Saturday: This was registration day. When we registered for the Minneapolis Marathon there was all sorts of hoopla. People were selling things, people were excited about what was about to happen. In Moshi, I got to the place of registration and was asked “42 or 21?” (kilometers). I then filled out a form, paid my Tanzanian residents’ registration fee (a pretty good deal), and was on my way, complete with ridiculous complimentary foam visor.
For lunch I enjoyed some powered banana baby food that I still had from Kenya (nutritious, but not as delicious as Gerber). After just kind of hanging out poolside at the Y, we headed with a big group of Peace Corps Volunteers to a rooftop Italian restaurant for some delicious (in general, not just in terms of Tanzanian food) and cheap spaghetti (hello carbo-loading!).
Sunday: At 5:30am I consumed the breakfast of champions- two pieces of white bread, crust not included. Last marathon a plain blueberry Eggo waffle did the trick, and I figured this was as close as I could get to that… After breakfast, I went with Angels 1 and 2 (Marshall and Amanda from the Peace Corps) to the start of the marathon. However, we got turned around trying to follow some serious-looking Kenyans and ended up having to jog to the stadium where the race started to make it on time. Nothing like running to a run!
After some entertaining announcements about getting out of the way if you were not running the marathon (an announcement I’d later wish was made throughout the city), a gun was fired and we were off.
It was nice and early and cloudy, so the temperature was cool. I decided (against my earlier decision) that I would run with Amanda and Marshall as long as possible. You see, they had, how do you say, properly trained? They were hoping for a 4 hour marathon. While I did run more in preparation for this marathon than the last, I still think I was actually not in as good of shape (last one I had Frisbee going for me too), and I was in no way going to run a 4 hour marathon. However, Marshall and Amanda are just jolly folks, and I was having too much fun just shooting the breeze and goofing around with them. Seriously, the first 25ish kilometers (mostly through the city of Moshi) flew by, as we were basically laughing the whole time.
Unfortunately, the powers that be in the Ninth Annual Kilimanjaro Marathon decided that their claim on the website of a “relatively flat” course meant that the third quarter of the race would be ALL UPHILL! Yep, about 10km (after having run 21km more rapidly than planned) were uphill, with small plateaus as the closest thing to a break! Jeepers it was tough! Marshall and Amanda did their thing (they did great!), and I was left wondering what the heck I had done.
As I “trained”, I thought of an inordinate amount of analogies between long distance running and my stay here in Tanzania. Granted, I have many friends in other programs staying places a lot longer and doing sweet things (and I think about how impressive this is often), but, let’s be real, going to college an hour from home was hard for me! Naturally, I thought the analogies would flow on my way up the Hill o’ Doom (my name for it, not official). However, that was not the case. Other than anger toward the exhaustion (the sun came out and it was now a steamy late-morning), all I could think about was you wonderful Angels at home! The morning before leaving Hanga, I received word of some more great donations (today I learned we have hit over $700, meaning with Zubaz’s generosity we will cross the $1,000 mark for sure! (even cooler when you realize we’ll be over 1 million Tanzanian Schillings!)- Again, I cannot say thanks enough for the support through vibes, prays, and dollars!) While I most definitely had to slow to a walk more than once, I felt like I owed each kilometer to each one of you wonderful people (sorry for the cheesiness- it’s true though).
Also, there has never been a doubt in my mind that I really enjoy the company of great people, and it turns out that marathons are no exception to this rule. Who knew? Those first kilometers with Marshall and Amanda were great, and my solitary kilometers were spent channeling my running buddies from home. Up that hill, my steps (walking ones and running ones) were accompanied by all those that donated/will donate, all those that prayed and sent vibes, all those I’ve run with before, all those wearing Zubaz in honor of the task at hand, my running-buddy sister, and my marathon-buddy Emily. I must say to you all, it was a pleasure to run/struggle to walk up that hill with you!
In the Minneapolis Marathon, the streets were lined with people cheering and encouraging…here the streets were lined with people laughing either a) because you decided to run for fun or b) because you looked like you were struggling. Luckily, the good old U.S. of A. provided me with a couple more Angels!
First was Captain America, our “rabbit”. As real, hardcore runners, Marshall and I were well aware that we would need a rabbit- someone to follow the whole run who would run at a pace that would challenge us but allow us to keep up. For us, that man was a man we deemed “Captain America”. He was at least into his 60’s, had an Ironman Wisconsin tattoo on his rather large calf, wore a tight white shirt about as short as a 1980’s football practice jersey, and short American flag shorts. Well, we accidentally caught up to and passed Captain America, and he soon caught back up with us. We struck up quite the little conversation with this man. After he gave us way to much detail about the struggles he was having with this marathon, he went on to mention that he was also from Minneapolis! How great is that! He asked if I ever ran the Twin Cities Marathon and proceeded to inform me that he only ran 28 in a row before his wife insisted they move to Sarasota for warmer weather…Really? And here he was, questioning if he could do this marathon. Needless to say, it was inspiring and entertaining to see this goofy guy on his way down the hill, far ahead of me, much later in the day.
Also, there was a couple from the U.S. that rode a motorcycle up and down the course cheering us on! It was a great taste of home, and they even gave me some delicious and probably helpful hydration gummies! Also, they had the good sense to remind me as I struggled up the hill that the mountain was absolutely gorgeous and I was lucky to just be there!
Speaking of hydration gummies, I think this would be a good time to touch on my during-race nutrition. I had water at every water stop, and I had one energy gel that I received with registration (I used 2 last marathon). I milked that one gel from about kilometer 21 to kilometer 30. Also, they had Coke at a lot of the water stops, and, as crazy as it seems, I tried a cup at the top of the hill. Aside from a few burps, it actually worked out alright.
Another during-race Angel was a man in his 60’s named Dave. Dave is a retired teacher from Wisconsin, and he apparently doubles as a saint. He came up behind me with a few kilometers let up the hill, and I noticed his American flag shoes and Midwestern accent. He was incredibly friendly and positive, and he all but said, “Hey man, let’s do finish this thing out strong.” Right when I was struggling to take my mind off the exhaustion, he came up as a great friendly distraction/sage. We ran together until there were about 2 kilometers left (he had more of a kick left than I did). Needless to say, his company came in very clutch!
The famed last kilometer of the race was actually 1.2 kilometers (should have thought of that before deciding to speed up for it). The whole race we got to play a game where we tried to avoid getting hit by trucks, busses, and groups of kids, as none of the course was actually blocked off (it was fun trying to time breathing so you didn’t inhale ALL of the black smoke from trucks). The end was no exception. As I entered the university campus and approached the stadium, and I had to dodge cars and people, and finally made it into the stadium. That’s where I saw my final during-race angels: the Peace Corps/Hanga crew was there near the finish to cheer me on/snap some photos of those classy pants that carried me through (other than a little extra heat, they felt really great…just saying, if you need a pair…). I made one less-than-epic attempt at a sprint and passed an older lady that had passed me and crossed the finish line. I’d tell you my time, but, this being a weird marathon, they never actually told you a time or had an official clock we could see. I’m pretty sure it was somewhere around 4 hrs and 50mins. Slower than last time, but also much tougher.
After dancing to some American hip-hop while lying on the ground post-race, taking some photos, drinking copious amounts of water, and eating an ice cream cone purchased by Angel Mike, we were ready to walk back to the Y….I thought. We got into the street and I froze- my left foot cramped like I’ve never experienced before. Shortly thereafter, I decided it was best to lay down on the side of the rode and stretch it out…but it got worse. A kind man from the street came and decided he should help Mike stretch it out. I’ve seen Tanzanians help fellow soccer players stretch cramps before, so I had high hopes. The guy did well for about 5 seconds and then proceed to stretch the toe that was the worst the wrong way! Let’s just say there was a fun scene of a white guy writhing in pain and biting his participation t-shirt on the side of the road…Good times.
A doctor came and said they had to take me to the medical tent. It was then that I saw the stretcher that had been placed next to me. I sat up, laughed, and said, “No.” They weren’t really listening as they placed me on the stretch, lifted me, began to carry, and said, “Just sleep” (aka “Lay down you!”
As I was brought into the tent, the head doctor took a picture. Nice. Then I realized another patient had sat up in his stretcher and was also taking a picture. Fantastic.
We got to the tent, and a nurse was about to give me something when a doctor stopped her and asked me what was wrong. I said I cramped. He asked if it still hurt. I said no (it didn’t). He sent the nurse away and left me. Great.
Eventually more doctors and nurses came and went, and I ended up getting a muscle-relaxer cream on my foot and some ice. When it was still bad when I tried to walk again, they gave me a hydration drink (super-water I guess…it was gross). Then they wrapped it (overkill? I think yes.). Then a nurse asked me to answer questions for a form. They only question she marked without asking? Gender. Her answer? F. Really? Yes, I did correct her, and she just looked surprised…
After downing more water per the urging of Doctor Mike, we finally made another go at it. As I got up, a doctor (who got his own foot rub from a nurse for no apparent reason during some downtime) saw the dirt on the back of my shirt (from laying in the road), said it’s too bad I feel before I got to finish (my medal was in my pocket). I clarified that I made it through the whole marathon no problem- it was the walking home that got me.
Well, we walked back to the Y, accompanied by and older Tanzanian that wanted to chat all day (I personally didn’t want to stand all day).
After showering and resting, Mike and I walked into town to meet Marshall and Amanda for some much needed food. On our way we were stopped by none other than…Marshall and Amanda. It seems that on their way for pizza, they stopped for cheeseburgers (Moshi is a magical place in this regard). As any good Americans would, we had cheeseburgers and fries, then walked a few blocks to have pizza and milkshakes. I don’t regret one calorie of that decision. We made the wise choice of taking a taxi back and then napping. Indeed, I’d call it a full day.
Monday and Tuesday: We caught our bus back to Morogoro on Monday and stayed with Br. Dominic again. On Tuesday we caught our bus to Songea and got a ride back to Hanga after, you guessed it, more greasy food! In total, we were on busses for only about 35 hours (going to Morogoro saved us a lot of bus time), and only 50% of the bus rides included people tossing their lunches on or around me. Not bad I guess. Also, we were in the back seats of the last bus we took. This is where we learned a little physics lesson- Even with a seatbelt, Alec can bounce well over a foot off his seat on the right speed bump if taken quickly enough (our favorite company, Super Feo, definitely takes them quickly enough). Also, we learned Alec’s bus-buddy, Resa, could probably also bounce over a foot if there wasn’t a storage compartment above here head…oops…
Wednesday: I went to Mass, taught, and worked in the St. B library, and I even went for a run to my favorite spot where I can see the village and the beautiful hills! No sign of soreness or foot cramps! Hizzah again!
Anyway, the moral of the story is that I had a blast seeing the sites, meeting the people, and running the race. Moshi is a beautiful town, Kili is a beautiful mountain that really looks like the pictures, and the people I was with were wonderful. Running is a great activity, and 42.2 km is a long distance. I’m very excited to see what kind of total we end up with for the de Paul school textbook fund over the next month or so, and I’m getting very excited for this last month or two of downhill running here in Tanzania with all you beautiful angels taking each step with me!
Because of my lack of internet use for the last week, I am going to attempt to give the full(ish) rundown as best I can in this one blog in somewhat chronological order.
Thursday: Leave Hanga at 4:45am and begin the journey to Morogoro. I made sure to bring Minnesota along with me in the form of Zubaz, socks (sent by the Carlsons), and highlighter (sent by the Hansens) that wrote on my t-shirt better than a Sharpie (who knew?). We arrived around 4:30 and got picked up by a monk friend who took us to the beautiful seminary he is studying at. After some food and prayer, we were quite ready for bed!
Friday: Leave Morogoro at around 8am and begin the journey to Moshi. Luckily, our seats on the bus were right behind two American friends from our region in the Peace Corps! We arrived at the YMCA (yep, as in the song) in Moshi around 4:30 and got settled in. That night we just kind of wandered around Moshi, got some food, and went to bed early.
Saturday: This was registration day. When we registered for the Minneapolis Marathon there was all sorts of hoopla. People were selling things, people were excited about what was about to happen. In Moshi, I got to the place of registration and was asked “42 or 21?” (kilometers). I then filled out a form, paid my Tanzanian residents’ registration fee (a pretty good deal), and was on my way, complete with ridiculous complimentary foam visor.
For lunch I enjoyed some powered banana baby food that I still had from Kenya (nutritious, but not as delicious as Gerber). After just kind of hanging out poolside at the Y, we headed with a big group of Peace Corps Volunteers to a rooftop Italian restaurant for some delicious (in general, not just in terms of Tanzanian food) and cheap spaghetti (hello carbo-loading!).
Sunday: At 5:30am I consumed the breakfast of champions- two pieces of white bread, crust not included. Last marathon a plain blueberry Eggo waffle did the trick, and I figured this was as close as I could get to that… After breakfast, I went with Angels 1 and 2 (Marshall and Amanda from the Peace Corps) to the start of the marathon. However, we got turned around trying to follow some serious-looking Kenyans and ended up having to jog to the stadium where the race started to make it on time. Nothing like running to a run!
After some entertaining announcements about getting out of the way if you were not running the marathon (an announcement I’d later wish was made throughout the city), a gun was fired and we were off.
It was nice and early and cloudy, so the temperature was cool. I decided (against my earlier decision) that I would run with Amanda and Marshall as long as possible. You see, they had, how do you say, properly trained? They were hoping for a 4 hour marathon. While I did run more in preparation for this marathon than the last, I still think I was actually not in as good of shape (last one I had Frisbee going for me too), and I was in no way going to run a 4 hour marathon. However, Marshall and Amanda are just jolly folks, and I was having too much fun just shooting the breeze and goofing around with them. Seriously, the first 25ish kilometers (mostly through the city of Moshi) flew by, as we were basically laughing the whole time.
Unfortunately, the powers that be in the Ninth Annual Kilimanjaro Marathon decided that their claim on the website of a “relatively flat” course meant that the third quarter of the race would be ALL UPHILL! Yep, about 10km (after having run 21km more rapidly than planned) were uphill, with small plateaus as the closest thing to a break! Jeepers it was tough! Marshall and Amanda did their thing (they did great!), and I was left wondering what the heck I had done.
As I “trained”, I thought of an inordinate amount of analogies between long distance running and my stay here in Tanzania. Granted, I have many friends in other programs staying places a lot longer and doing sweet things (and I think about how impressive this is often), but, let’s be real, going to college an hour from home was hard for me! Naturally, I thought the analogies would flow on my way up the Hill o’ Doom (my name for it, not official). However, that was not the case. Other than anger toward the exhaustion (the sun came out and it was now a steamy late-morning), all I could think about was you wonderful Angels at home! The morning before leaving Hanga, I received word of some more great donations (today I learned we have hit over $700, meaning with Zubaz’s generosity we will cross the $1,000 mark for sure! (even cooler when you realize we’ll be over 1 million Tanzanian Schillings!)- Again, I cannot say thanks enough for the support through vibes, prays, and dollars!) While I most definitely had to slow to a walk more than once, I felt like I owed each kilometer to each one of you wonderful people (sorry for the cheesiness- it’s true though).
Also, there has never been a doubt in my mind that I really enjoy the company of great people, and it turns out that marathons are no exception to this rule. Who knew? Those first kilometers with Marshall and Amanda were great, and my solitary kilometers were spent channeling my running buddies from home. Up that hill, my steps (walking ones and running ones) were accompanied by all those that donated/will donate, all those that prayed and sent vibes, all those I’ve run with before, all those wearing Zubaz in honor of the task at hand, my running-buddy sister, and my marathon-buddy Emily. I must say to you all, it was a pleasure to run/struggle to walk up that hill with you!
In the Minneapolis Marathon, the streets were lined with people cheering and encouraging…here the streets were lined with people laughing either a) because you decided to run for fun or b) because you looked like you were struggling. Luckily, the good old U.S. of A. provided me with a couple more Angels!
First was Captain America, our “rabbit”. As real, hardcore runners, Marshall and I were well aware that we would need a rabbit- someone to follow the whole run who would run at a pace that would challenge us but allow us to keep up. For us, that man was a man we deemed “Captain America”. He was at least into his 60’s, had an Ironman Wisconsin tattoo on his rather large calf, wore a tight white shirt about as short as a 1980’s football practice jersey, and short American flag shorts. Well, we accidentally caught up to and passed Captain America, and he soon caught back up with us. We struck up quite the little conversation with this man. After he gave us way to much detail about the struggles he was having with this marathon, he went on to mention that he was also from Minneapolis! How great is that! He asked if I ever ran the Twin Cities Marathon and proceeded to inform me that he only ran 28 in a row before his wife insisted they move to Sarasota for warmer weather…Really? And here he was, questioning if he could do this marathon. Needless to say, it was inspiring and entertaining to see this goofy guy on his way down the hill, far ahead of me, much later in the day.
Also, there was a couple from the U.S. that rode a motorcycle up and down the course cheering us on! It was a great taste of home, and they even gave me some delicious and probably helpful hydration gummies! Also, they had the good sense to remind me as I struggled up the hill that the mountain was absolutely gorgeous and I was lucky to just be there!
Speaking of hydration gummies, I think this would be a good time to touch on my during-race nutrition. I had water at every water stop, and I had one energy gel that I received with registration (I used 2 last marathon). I milked that one gel from about kilometer 21 to kilometer 30. Also, they had Coke at a lot of the water stops, and, as crazy as it seems, I tried a cup at the top of the hill. Aside from a few burps, it actually worked out alright.
Another during-race Angel was a man in his 60’s named Dave. Dave is a retired teacher from Wisconsin, and he apparently doubles as a saint. He came up behind me with a few kilometers let up the hill, and I noticed his American flag shoes and Midwestern accent. He was incredibly friendly and positive, and he all but said, “Hey man, let’s do finish this thing out strong.” Right when I was struggling to take my mind off the exhaustion, he came up as a great friendly distraction/sage. We ran together until there were about 2 kilometers left (he had more of a kick left than I did). Needless to say, his company came in very clutch!
The famed last kilometer of the race was actually 1.2 kilometers (should have thought of that before deciding to speed up for it). The whole race we got to play a game where we tried to avoid getting hit by trucks, busses, and groups of kids, as none of the course was actually blocked off (it was fun trying to time breathing so you didn’t inhale ALL of the black smoke from trucks). The end was no exception. As I entered the university campus and approached the stadium, and I had to dodge cars and people, and finally made it into the stadium. That’s where I saw my final during-race angels: the Peace Corps/Hanga crew was there near the finish to cheer me on/snap some photos of those classy pants that carried me through (other than a little extra heat, they felt really great…just saying, if you need a pair…). I made one less-than-epic attempt at a sprint and passed an older lady that had passed me and crossed the finish line. I’d tell you my time, but, this being a weird marathon, they never actually told you a time or had an official clock we could see. I’m pretty sure it was somewhere around 4 hrs and 50mins. Slower than last time, but also much tougher.
After dancing to some American hip-hop while lying on the ground post-race, taking some photos, drinking copious amounts of water, and eating an ice cream cone purchased by Angel Mike, we were ready to walk back to the Y….I thought. We got into the street and I froze- my left foot cramped like I’ve never experienced before. Shortly thereafter, I decided it was best to lay down on the side of the rode and stretch it out…but it got worse. A kind man from the street came and decided he should help Mike stretch it out. I’ve seen Tanzanians help fellow soccer players stretch cramps before, so I had high hopes. The guy did well for about 5 seconds and then proceed to stretch the toe that was the worst the wrong way! Let’s just say there was a fun scene of a white guy writhing in pain and biting his participation t-shirt on the side of the road…Good times.
A doctor came and said they had to take me to the medical tent. It was then that I saw the stretcher that had been placed next to me. I sat up, laughed, and said, “No.” They weren’t really listening as they placed me on the stretch, lifted me, began to carry, and said, “Just sleep” (aka “Lay down you!”
As I was brought into the tent, the head doctor took a picture. Nice. Then I realized another patient had sat up in his stretcher and was also taking a picture. Fantastic.
We got to the tent, and a nurse was about to give me something when a doctor stopped her and asked me what was wrong. I said I cramped. He asked if it still hurt. I said no (it didn’t). He sent the nurse away and left me. Great.
Eventually more doctors and nurses came and went, and I ended up getting a muscle-relaxer cream on my foot and some ice. When it was still bad when I tried to walk again, they gave me a hydration drink (super-water I guess…it was gross). Then they wrapped it (overkill? I think yes.). Then a nurse asked me to answer questions for a form. They only question she marked without asking? Gender. Her answer? F. Really? Yes, I did correct her, and she just looked surprised…
After downing more water per the urging of Doctor Mike, we finally made another go at it. As I got up, a doctor (who got his own foot rub from a nurse for no apparent reason during some downtime) saw the dirt on the back of my shirt (from laying in the road), said it’s too bad I feel before I got to finish (my medal was in my pocket). I clarified that I made it through the whole marathon no problem- it was the walking home that got me.
Well, we walked back to the Y, accompanied by and older Tanzanian that wanted to chat all day (I personally didn’t want to stand all day).
After showering and resting, Mike and I walked into town to meet Marshall and Amanda for some much needed food. On our way we were stopped by none other than…Marshall and Amanda. It seems that on their way for pizza, they stopped for cheeseburgers (Moshi is a magical place in this regard). As any good Americans would, we had cheeseburgers and fries, then walked a few blocks to have pizza and milkshakes. I don’t regret one calorie of that decision. We made the wise choice of taking a taxi back and then napping. Indeed, I’d call it a full day.
Monday and Tuesday: We caught our bus back to Morogoro on Monday and stayed with Br. Dominic again. On Tuesday we caught our bus to Songea and got a ride back to Hanga after, you guessed it, more greasy food! In total, we were on busses for only about 35 hours (going to Morogoro saved us a lot of bus time), and only 50% of the bus rides included people tossing their lunches on or around me. Not bad I guess. Also, we were in the back seats of the last bus we took. This is where we learned a little physics lesson- Even with a seatbelt, Alec can bounce well over a foot off his seat on the right speed bump if taken quickly enough (our favorite company, Super Feo, definitely takes them quickly enough). Also, we learned Alec’s bus-buddy, Resa, could probably also bounce over a foot if there wasn’t a storage compartment above here head…oops…
Wednesday: I went to Mass, taught, and worked in the St. B library, and I even went for a run to my favorite spot where I can see the village and the beautiful hills! No sign of soreness or foot cramps! Hizzah again!
Anyway, the moral of the story is that I had a blast seeing the sites, meeting the people, and running the race. Moshi is a beautiful town, Kili is a beautiful mountain that really looks like the pictures, and the people I was with were wonderful. Running is a great activity, and 42.2 km is a long distance. I’m very excited to see what kind of total we end up with for the de Paul school textbook fund over the next month or so, and I’m getting very excited for this last month or two of downhill running here in Tanzania with all you beautiful angels taking each step with me!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
If There Is A Mountain To Move...Run Around It?
Well, it’s official. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, we begin our marathon of bus rides for the Kilimanjaro adventure! It’s definitely getting exciting.
We have received word that we have officially raised $120, and we’ve heard of many more people with money on the way! Thanks again to everyone offering support, whether that be monetarily or through prayers! There’s still plenty of time for both, as we are continuing the fundraiser even after Sunday.
Also, I figured I’d through in a very quick little summary of how teaching has been going lately. I learned that the art of the simple “drum roll” is fascinating to young teenage boys in Tanzania! Who knew? Now, whenever we are about to see a new vocabulary word for the first time, they see how loud and fast they can drum roll before I finish writing the new word. It’s simple, but it keeps the attention.
As for the seminary, they are slowly improving at the Breakthrough Saint Paul “Spirit Check”, or as I have been calling it, the “Wake Up”. The series of claps and desk pounds keeps them on their toes, and, honestly, it’s a nice little minute break to get up the energy, as they have a really tough daily schedule. We have some exciting lessons (in my opinion) coming up to work on mastering those pesky fractions, so I’ll let you know how those go sometime after the marathon.
…Speaking of which, I should probably go pack now! I’ll do my best to give a good rundown (pun intended) of how it all goes!
We have received word that we have officially raised $120, and we’ve heard of many more people with money on the way! Thanks again to everyone offering support, whether that be monetarily or through prayers! There’s still plenty of time for both, as we are continuing the fundraiser even after Sunday.
Also, I figured I’d through in a very quick little summary of how teaching has been going lately. I learned that the art of the simple “drum roll” is fascinating to young teenage boys in Tanzania! Who knew? Now, whenever we are about to see a new vocabulary word for the first time, they see how loud and fast they can drum roll before I finish writing the new word. It’s simple, but it keeps the attention.
As for the seminary, they are slowly improving at the Breakthrough Saint Paul “Spirit Check”, or as I have been calling it, the “Wake Up”. The series of claps and desk pounds keeps them on their toes, and, honestly, it’s a nice little minute break to get up the energy, as they have a really tough daily schedule. We have some exciting lessons (in my opinion) coming up to work on mastering those pesky fractions, so I’ll let you know how those go sometime after the marathon.
…Speaking of which, I should probably go pack now! I’ll do my best to give a good rundown (pun intended) of how it all goes!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Farmer's Tan
Pretty much all my non-winter life I’ve had a “farmer’s tan”. I guess I’ve just always loved to be outside and playing sports when the weather is at least decent, and this has always lead to that lovely “farmer’s tan”.
Well, last week this city boy finally earned his first real “farmer’s tan”! All week the seminary didn’t have classes because of a corn emergency (their cornfields were being taken over by weeds). On Thursday my only class would have been at the seminary, so I ate breakfast with the students and then headed out to the fields with them.
The fields are in the vicinity of a church that’s about 8km away “in the bush” called Nakagugu. The students wondered if I’d be okay walking all the way to the fields…little do they know that that is the very path I run most days for my training.
The first thing I got to do was dig between the lines of corn with a hoe. I got to do it for a while, but right around the time that a student inquired as to how much the work would hurt my city hands, I got my first blister of the day. The student didn’t know that, but he didn’t have a hoe, so I let him use mine and I started hand-pulling the weeds near the roots of the corn stalks.
After a couple hours of the weeding, one of the student supervisors asked me to walk with him, and we ended up running going to a mango tree so this student could eat an inordinate amount of mangoes- which was both understandable (their food isn’t too great on a daily basis) and mildly entertaining. We ended up having a pretty long conversation with an “Evangelical Protestant” farmer who didn’t seem to understand why this student had chosen to become a monk. I got to be involved with the conversation through the translation of the student, and it was fun to help the farmer see how many things we agree on, and it was also fun to practice explaining my own beliefs. Definitely not what I expected when I thought of “field work”, but it was a good experience, and the man was very thankful for the conversation.
After lunch (which was brought from school in a truck so we could eat in the fields) it was time for fertilizing. This meant that I got to spend a good amount of time pounding a stick into the ground near each root so these small holes could be filled (by hand) with fertilizer. This work managed to give me two more blisters and some seriously dirty hands. I also got some time to talk to students and showcase how little I know about farming in the U.S. and in general (can anyone name main crops grown in the U.S. other than corn and wheat?).
Then it was time to walk back, and it started POURING! It was one of those rains where the raindrops hurt, and I was loving it, because I had been burning up all day and it was cooling me down wonderfully. The students thought I was pretty crazy. Since we were so far into the bush, the roads were mostly mud, so the hard rain meant we were basically walking through ankle-deep flowing muddy water! Good times.
It should also be noted that I had an itch on my face, and, having dirty hands, it appeared as though I was trying to make my skin…less white. There were a lot of good jokes from students about me trying to be African, and they earned the right to joke, because I can’t imagine a week of that work knowing that a) you’re missing a week of classes and b) your teachers are generally having a much easier week than usual while you toil.
Also, in a more general update, Mike and I are now in charge of the St. B. library. Kristin (a German volunteer) had been in charge, but she left, and apparently they just wouldn’t open the library if it wasn’t for us…so, we open it between our classes. Other teachers come in and say, “I didn’t know you were librarians?”…I didn’t either!
As for my trade school classes, I think they are going alright. Students only get one hour of math each week there, because they are really supposed to focus on their trade. With all that in mind, I have realized that it is really important they have a foundation for what they’ll need- so far we’ve practiced English numbers and basic operations (addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division). To get them more excited about practicing, we have “matches” at the board to see who can solve problems the fastest, and we call these Premier League games (soccer). The winner gets to take on me in the Champion’s League (again, soccer- I’m learning!) They get pretty into it and sometimes ask to keep playing, which is cool. And speaking of soccer, for those that care…How ‘bout that Arsenal?!
*Marathon Update: As I mentioned, I like running toward Nakagugu, mostly because there’s not a lot of traffic. However, being into the “bush” there are plenty of wrong turns to take, and I typically don’t make it to the church, but I finally made it the other day as I went for my longest run since…well…last marathon. It felt great!
Also, yesterday I switched up my route and ran by substantially more houses. The combination of seeing a mzungu and someone running for running-sake was too much to handle for some people, as parents were literally calling their children to come out of the house and see the sight! I even had a lady in sandals try to run with me for much longer than expected. Good times!
Finally, there’s now a “Facebook Event” for the fundraiser, so you can feel free to use that to help spread the word to your friends if you are on Facebook and so desire.
Well, last week this city boy finally earned his first real “farmer’s tan”! All week the seminary didn’t have classes because of a corn emergency (their cornfields were being taken over by weeds). On Thursday my only class would have been at the seminary, so I ate breakfast with the students and then headed out to the fields with them.
The fields are in the vicinity of a church that’s about 8km away “in the bush” called Nakagugu. The students wondered if I’d be okay walking all the way to the fields…little do they know that that is the very path I run most days for my training.
The first thing I got to do was dig between the lines of corn with a hoe. I got to do it for a while, but right around the time that a student inquired as to how much the work would hurt my city hands, I got my first blister of the day. The student didn’t know that, but he didn’t have a hoe, so I let him use mine and I started hand-pulling the weeds near the roots of the corn stalks.
After a couple hours of the weeding, one of the student supervisors asked me to walk with him, and we ended up running going to a mango tree so this student could eat an inordinate amount of mangoes- which was both understandable (their food isn’t too great on a daily basis) and mildly entertaining. We ended up having a pretty long conversation with an “Evangelical Protestant” farmer who didn’t seem to understand why this student had chosen to become a monk. I got to be involved with the conversation through the translation of the student, and it was fun to help the farmer see how many things we agree on, and it was also fun to practice explaining my own beliefs. Definitely not what I expected when I thought of “field work”, but it was a good experience, and the man was very thankful for the conversation.
After lunch (which was brought from school in a truck so we could eat in the fields) it was time for fertilizing. This meant that I got to spend a good amount of time pounding a stick into the ground near each root so these small holes could be filled (by hand) with fertilizer. This work managed to give me two more blisters and some seriously dirty hands. I also got some time to talk to students and showcase how little I know about farming in the U.S. and in general (can anyone name main crops grown in the U.S. other than corn and wheat?).
Then it was time to walk back, and it started POURING! It was one of those rains where the raindrops hurt, and I was loving it, because I had been burning up all day and it was cooling me down wonderfully. The students thought I was pretty crazy. Since we were so far into the bush, the roads were mostly mud, so the hard rain meant we were basically walking through ankle-deep flowing muddy water! Good times.
It should also be noted that I had an itch on my face, and, having dirty hands, it appeared as though I was trying to make my skin…less white. There were a lot of good jokes from students about me trying to be African, and they earned the right to joke, because I can’t imagine a week of that work knowing that a) you’re missing a week of classes and b) your teachers are generally having a much easier week than usual while you toil.
Also, in a more general update, Mike and I are now in charge of the St. B. library. Kristin (a German volunteer) had been in charge, but she left, and apparently they just wouldn’t open the library if it wasn’t for us…so, we open it between our classes. Other teachers come in and say, “I didn’t know you were librarians?”…I didn’t either!
As for my trade school classes, I think they are going alright. Students only get one hour of math each week there, because they are really supposed to focus on their trade. With all that in mind, I have realized that it is really important they have a foundation for what they’ll need- so far we’ve practiced English numbers and basic operations (addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division). To get them more excited about practicing, we have “matches” at the board to see who can solve problems the fastest, and we call these Premier League games (soccer). The winner gets to take on me in the Champion’s League (again, soccer- I’m learning!) They get pretty into it and sometimes ask to keep playing, which is cool. And speaking of soccer, for those that care…How ‘bout that Arsenal?!
*Marathon Update: As I mentioned, I like running toward Nakagugu, mostly because there’s not a lot of traffic. However, being into the “bush” there are plenty of wrong turns to take, and I typically don’t make it to the church, but I finally made it the other day as I went for my longest run since…well…last marathon. It felt great!
Also, yesterday I switched up my route and ran by substantially more houses. The combination of seeing a mzungu and someone running for running-sake was too much to handle for some people, as parents were literally calling their children to come out of the house and see the sight! I even had a lady in sandals try to run with me for much longer than expected. Good times!
Finally, there’s now a “Facebook Event” for the fundraiser, so you can feel free to use that to help spread the word to your friends if you are on Facebook and so desire.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
A Kuku (coo-coo) Kind of Day
The events of this past Sunday still have me asking the age-old question: “Is this real life?”
Upon further review, the results are inconclusive, so I will let you decide…
A couple of days ago, one of the teachers at the Seminary asked me if I would come with him someday to visit his home in a nearby village. I said, “Sure”, and continued working (this was all in Kiswahili, as this is really the only language we’ve ever spoken in. Well, he went on to specifically suggest this Sunday, and I again said that it’d be great.
After Mass, as promised, he was there waiting for me. That’s when I found out or mode of transportation- Pikipiki (MOTORCYCLE!). Now, I’ve never ridden a motorcycle, so why not do it on the perfectly even (sarcasm) roads of Tanzania?
Our first stop was his house in Hanga to get me a rain jacket. This apparently was a better option than telling me to get my own while we were waiting fifteen minutes for the pikipiki. Also, I should note that by “raincoat” I mean to say “Miami-Vice-esque” (1980’s) tan sport coat with sleeves that stopped somewhere between my elbow and wrist…
Anyway, even with a little rain, the ride there was pretty fine. The driver went slowly and masterfully there, with only one instance of a 90 degree spin out due to mudd (don’t worry, he was going super slowly at the time).
Our first stop was his parents’ house in a village called Mtakanini (I think that translates to something to the effect of “what do you want?”). Our stay there consisted of 1)great surprise from the mother that his friend was white, 2)me listening as he talked to his father about food prices (is some big gathering coming up?...), 3)me drinking some tea and eating some of the best eggs of my life, and 4)me attempting to help his non-English speaking sister solve two equations using elimination. I was proud to give the impression that American’s like to don pastel suit coats that have, we’ll say “short” sleeves… Good times!
Then, as we walked, I learned the large quantities of food discussed were for his wedding…next Saturday! *When I asked if there was a reason for so much food, he said, “no”. Then he proceeded to ask what I am doing next weekend and then invited me to the wedding!* Naturally, we walked to his fiance’s place (wasn’t home) to drop off the now unnecessary coats.
Next, we walked to some really small village in which we apparently expected to catch a bus…Apparently they were low on busses, and we sat for a good while at this little bus stand/shack and drank pop. The stand-owner’s daughter was probably about 3 or 4 and had a kitten that she was carrying as if it was a small child and she the mother (wrapped in fabric and tied around her). Her mother told her to show the kitty to me, but she (maybe never having seen a white person) opted for running away in fear. That works too.
We eventually caught a bus to Namabengo (can’t even pretend to translate that) at around the time he’d promised he’d bring me back to Hanga. We sat at a bus stand there for a while (he said it was run by his “paternal father”- not sure what that means, but not the same guy from before). This owner was very apologetic that the bus wasn’t ready, so he offered us pop and “lunch” (around 4 in the afternoon). There were two pieces of meat for lunch, and my friend told me to take the big one, but the Minnesotan in me took the small one. When I realized the small one was more of an organ that what I would consider a “piece of meat”, I switched pieces when he wasn’t looking…Then we walked around and saw his old school, and finally we caught what I thought was our bus back to Hanga!
When we got out of said bus, I didn’t recognize anything and figured we were at the outskirts of Hanga…Turns out we were back at his fiance’s village! (Still a half hour pikipiki ride to Hanga). As I sat inside her house, the two of them teamed up to catch a chicken outside! I was worried they intended to cook it and feared we wouldn’t return to Hanga until the next day. However, he proceeded to call a pikipiki driver, and, as we waited for the driver, he explained the chicken (kuku) that was now tied up and lying near our shoes.
It turns out his fiancé is the older sister of two students that we had the pleasure of giving Phoenix Rising scholarships to on behalf of Lew and Paul (shameless plug: check out phoenixrising2.wordpress.com or my last blog if you haven’t yet!). It is important to note that in Tanzania giving someone a chicken is a way to a) ask them to marry you, or b) show intense gratitude. These students’ mother was apparently intensely grateful, and thus ordered the gift of a kuku to be given to Mike and me, with me being the official recipient…Yep.
So, on the way back to Hanga, the characters on the pikipiki, from front to back, were as follows: driver, me, kuku, friend. So, off we went. This new driver, while still clearly a pro, was a bit more disconcerting. As with my last experience with absurd transportation, it helped immensely to pass the time by writing my mental blog. Here’s what I remember thinking:
“As I literally kiss the driver’s helmet in front of me (a little squished), I cannot help but notice a few things:
*This driver must have the itchiest of noses! (Translation- Put your hand back on the pikipiki!)
*This driver is really into the scenery! (Translation- It’s great that your head is on a swivel, but let’s work on spending more time with it facing forward.)
*This would be a good time for my friend in the back not to try to make small talk with the driver. (Translation- Can’t you see he tries to look back at you when you talk to him?)
*He must drop his helmet a lot when carrying it. (Translation- Wow, there are a lot of scratches…)
*Are they laughing about the fact that the driver is speeding up where we had to get off and walk earlier due to the mud? (Translation- I’d be okay with walking again).
*There’s something greatly important up and to the left. (Translation- I do see that a huge storm is coming. I am also mildly concerned. I would still be pleased if you’d kindly place your hand back on the bike and stop pointing at the ominous clouds.)
*How nice, he’s speeding up to beat the storm. (Translation- Seriously, we can just walk and get rained on. That’d be fine with me.)
*Now he’s honking a lot while speeding up. (Translation- We are speeding up and there must be people or things in our way…good.)
*I haven’t said “The Guardian Angel” prayer in quite a while. (Translation- This could be a good time…)
*There is a live chicken being pressed against my back. (Exactly as it sounds.)
Moral of the story- we made it back safely and just before the downpour. To those concerned about my safety, please note that this was just my paranoia and general fear of all things motorcycle, as I was likely never in 10% of the danger I probably made it sound like I was in.
Finally, one more note about the kuku. His name is (was?) Rambo. Many plastic bags in this country have a picture of Rambo on them, which has earned the name “Rambo” for plastic bags in general. Rambo’s wings were tied together with a plastic bag (hence the name). I learned that he likes peanuts but not cookies (weird, huh?).
Also, I did not have the slightest clue what to do with poor Rambo. It was late and rainy when I got back, so I couldn’t really try to go into the village to get rid of him. Thus, Rambo lived in my bathroom. When I woke up, I found some interesting things:
-Rambo, being a fighter, had freed his wings and drastically changed his location on the bathroom floor (I was happy he earned himself a little more freedom, but this made grabbing him more tricky).
-Rambo also seemed to know what room he was in, as he apparently took care of some business during the night. The smell was less than pleasant, but luckily the plastic bag acted as the perfect diaper! No more peanuts for you, Rambo!
-In the morning I found the wonderful woman who helps cook and clean in the guesthouse. In Swahili, our conversation went something like this:
“Formal and Respectful Greetings” (showing this would not be about marriage, rather it was an act of thanks for her work)
“What’s up?” (Informal response, clearly wondering what was up)
“Would you like a chicken?”
“Say what?” (nonverbal)
“Wait” (I return to my room and come back with Rambo, saying, “Welcome to chicken as thanks for your work.”
“Thank you for chicken.” (Questioning tone, confused look, and walk away with Rambo)
Indeed, it was quite the kuku day!
*MARATHON UPDATE*
-Again the website is phoenixrising2.wordpress.com Sorry for any confusion!
-So far I have not received any word of any donations coming in (don't worry, I realize that would have been really quick, but, after all, I promised to keep you posted). I also made the decision to take the week off of training per my sister's advice (and/or because my body thought it was winter and got a cold). It's okay though, still weeks before the big day.
Upon further review, the results are inconclusive, so I will let you decide…
A couple of days ago, one of the teachers at the Seminary asked me if I would come with him someday to visit his home in a nearby village. I said, “Sure”, and continued working (this was all in Kiswahili, as this is really the only language we’ve ever spoken in. Well, he went on to specifically suggest this Sunday, and I again said that it’d be great.
After Mass, as promised, he was there waiting for me. That’s when I found out or mode of transportation- Pikipiki (MOTORCYCLE!). Now, I’ve never ridden a motorcycle, so why not do it on the perfectly even (sarcasm) roads of Tanzania?
Our first stop was his house in Hanga to get me a rain jacket. This apparently was a better option than telling me to get my own while we were waiting fifteen minutes for the pikipiki. Also, I should note that by “raincoat” I mean to say “Miami-Vice-esque” (1980’s) tan sport coat with sleeves that stopped somewhere between my elbow and wrist…
Anyway, even with a little rain, the ride there was pretty fine. The driver went slowly and masterfully there, with only one instance of a 90 degree spin out due to mudd (don’t worry, he was going super slowly at the time).
Our first stop was his parents’ house in a village called Mtakanini (I think that translates to something to the effect of “what do you want?”). Our stay there consisted of 1)great surprise from the mother that his friend was white, 2)me listening as he talked to his father about food prices (is some big gathering coming up?...), 3)me drinking some tea and eating some of the best eggs of my life, and 4)me attempting to help his non-English speaking sister solve two equations using elimination. I was proud to give the impression that American’s like to don pastel suit coats that have, we’ll say “short” sleeves… Good times!
Then, as we walked, I learned the large quantities of food discussed were for his wedding…next Saturday! *When I asked if there was a reason for so much food, he said, “no”. Then he proceeded to ask what I am doing next weekend and then invited me to the wedding!* Naturally, we walked to his fiance’s place (wasn’t home) to drop off the now unnecessary coats.
Next, we walked to some really small village in which we apparently expected to catch a bus…Apparently they were low on busses, and we sat for a good while at this little bus stand/shack and drank pop. The stand-owner’s daughter was probably about 3 or 4 and had a kitten that she was carrying as if it was a small child and she the mother (wrapped in fabric and tied around her). Her mother told her to show the kitty to me, but she (maybe never having seen a white person) opted for running away in fear. That works too.
We eventually caught a bus to Namabengo (can’t even pretend to translate that) at around the time he’d promised he’d bring me back to Hanga. We sat at a bus stand there for a while (he said it was run by his “paternal father”- not sure what that means, but not the same guy from before). This owner was very apologetic that the bus wasn’t ready, so he offered us pop and “lunch” (around 4 in the afternoon). There were two pieces of meat for lunch, and my friend told me to take the big one, but the Minnesotan in me took the small one. When I realized the small one was more of an organ that what I would consider a “piece of meat”, I switched pieces when he wasn’t looking…Then we walked around and saw his old school, and finally we caught what I thought was our bus back to Hanga!
When we got out of said bus, I didn’t recognize anything and figured we were at the outskirts of Hanga…Turns out we were back at his fiance’s village! (Still a half hour pikipiki ride to Hanga). As I sat inside her house, the two of them teamed up to catch a chicken outside! I was worried they intended to cook it and feared we wouldn’t return to Hanga until the next day. However, he proceeded to call a pikipiki driver, and, as we waited for the driver, he explained the chicken (kuku) that was now tied up and lying near our shoes.
It turns out his fiancé is the older sister of two students that we had the pleasure of giving Phoenix Rising scholarships to on behalf of Lew and Paul (shameless plug: check out phoenixrising2.wordpress.com or my last blog if you haven’t yet!). It is important to note that in Tanzania giving someone a chicken is a way to a) ask them to marry you, or b) show intense gratitude. These students’ mother was apparently intensely grateful, and thus ordered the gift of a kuku to be given to Mike and me, with me being the official recipient…Yep.
So, on the way back to Hanga, the characters on the pikipiki, from front to back, were as follows: driver, me, kuku, friend. So, off we went. This new driver, while still clearly a pro, was a bit more disconcerting. As with my last experience with absurd transportation, it helped immensely to pass the time by writing my mental blog. Here’s what I remember thinking:
“As I literally kiss the driver’s helmet in front of me (a little squished), I cannot help but notice a few things:
*This driver must have the itchiest of noses! (Translation- Put your hand back on the pikipiki!)
*This driver is really into the scenery! (Translation- It’s great that your head is on a swivel, but let’s work on spending more time with it facing forward.)
*This would be a good time for my friend in the back not to try to make small talk with the driver. (Translation- Can’t you see he tries to look back at you when you talk to him?)
*He must drop his helmet a lot when carrying it. (Translation- Wow, there are a lot of scratches…)
*Are they laughing about the fact that the driver is speeding up where we had to get off and walk earlier due to the mud? (Translation- I’d be okay with walking again).
*There’s something greatly important up and to the left. (Translation- I do see that a huge storm is coming. I am also mildly concerned. I would still be pleased if you’d kindly place your hand back on the bike and stop pointing at the ominous clouds.)
*How nice, he’s speeding up to beat the storm. (Translation- Seriously, we can just walk and get rained on. That’d be fine with me.)
*Now he’s honking a lot while speeding up. (Translation- We are speeding up and there must be people or things in our way…good.)
*I haven’t said “The Guardian Angel” prayer in quite a while. (Translation- This could be a good time…)
*There is a live chicken being pressed against my back. (Exactly as it sounds.)
Moral of the story- we made it back safely and just before the downpour. To those concerned about my safety, please note that this was just my paranoia and general fear of all things motorcycle, as I was likely never in 10% of the danger I probably made it sound like I was in.
Finally, one more note about the kuku. His name is (was?) Rambo. Many plastic bags in this country have a picture of Rambo on them, which has earned the name “Rambo” for plastic bags in general. Rambo’s wings were tied together with a plastic bag (hence the name). I learned that he likes peanuts but not cookies (weird, huh?).
Also, I did not have the slightest clue what to do with poor Rambo. It was late and rainy when I got back, so I couldn’t really try to go into the village to get rid of him. Thus, Rambo lived in my bathroom. When I woke up, I found some interesting things:
-Rambo, being a fighter, had freed his wings and drastically changed his location on the bathroom floor (I was happy he earned himself a little more freedom, but this made grabbing him more tricky).
-Rambo also seemed to know what room he was in, as he apparently took care of some business during the night. The smell was less than pleasant, but luckily the plastic bag acted as the perfect diaper! No more peanuts for you, Rambo!
-In the morning I found the wonderful woman who helps cook and clean in the guesthouse. In Swahili, our conversation went something like this:
“Formal and Respectful Greetings” (showing this would not be about marriage, rather it was an act of thanks for her work)
“What’s up?” (Informal response, clearly wondering what was up)
“Would you like a chicken?”
“Say what?” (nonverbal)
“Wait” (I return to my room and come back with Rambo, saying, “Welcome to chicken as thanks for your work.”
“Thank you for chicken.” (Questioning tone, confused look, and walk away with Rambo)
Indeed, it was quite the kuku day!
*MARATHON UPDATE*
-Again the website is phoenixrising2.wordpress.com Sorry for any confusion!
-So far I have not received any word of any donations coming in (don't worry, I realize that would have been really quick, but, after all, I promised to keep you posted). I also made the decision to take the week off of training per my sister's advice (and/or because my body thought it was winter and got a cold). It's okay though, still weeks before the big day.
Monday, January 31, 2011
The Big Announcement!
What is the big announcement?
Is it that we have come upon our 5 month Tanziversary? Well, that’s true- we have- but that’s not the announcement.
Is it that I cut my hair (literally cut my own hair with the rest of the volunteers stepping in do some serious salvaging of the job I started)? That’s true too, but it’s not the announcement.
Is it that I am scheduled to teach twice a week at the trade school this term, thus doubling the chance that they may actually have class on a day I teach? True again, but still not what we’re looking for.
Is it that I joined the seminarians for “shamba” (farm work) and “mowed the grass” by swinging a long, dull, knife? Yeah, that happened, but that’s still not it.
Then it has to be that I finally finished the spirituality section of the Seminary library?! That did happen, and thanks for noticing, but that’s not it either.
Alright, it must be that I got to help put up (much needed) new basketball hoops at the seminary that were purchased with money that came indirectly from Dirk Nowitzki? (You can’t make this stuff up). Again this is true, and again not the announcement.
I WILL BE RUNNING THE KILIMANJARO MARATHON ON FEBRUARY 27!!!!!!!!
This is a “big announcement” because Mike and I are turning this marathon (he’s running the 5k) into a fundraiser. It all started in _______, when two volunteers- Paul Conroy and (Br.) Lew Grobe decided they wanted to help out the students of Hanga. You see, school fees for one year are typically at least 300USD, and there are many students who work straight through their holidays and still cannot manage that kind of money. Thus, Paul and Lew started a scholarship fund called Phoenix Rising.
Phoenix is the most popular brand of bicycle here, and it is the brand they used when they rode across the country from Dar es Salaam to Hanga (near Songea if you want to see it on a map). That’s nearly ______ kilometers! Through this large fundraising effort, Paul and Lew were able to start the scholarship fund that still continues to help students today.
We were naturally quite inspired by this story, and we wanted also wanted to do something to help promote education. We truly believe that education, especially in a place that has can have so many struggles with money and resources, is integral for the youth of this country (as it is worldwide). After all, that’s why we came here to teach!
In addition to helping maintain the Phoenix Rising scholarship fund, we found another area of education in which we felt compelled to help. If you have been following my blog, you may recall the 3 wonderful Franciscan sisters that I met a few months back (2 from India, 1 from Ethiopia). They help run the de Paul School in Songea, and it is a beautiful operation. As I have mentioned before, it is clear that they have a deep appreciation for the intricacies of education and the importance of loving the students and developing critical thinking and language skills that will help them to live better lives. However, upon visiting their school, we found that they have no library. They have been allotted 1 textbook per class. How are the students supposed to develop reading skills if they do not have books to read?
This really bothers the sisters, as they long so deeply to instill a love of reading and all the lessons that it can teach. They speak of the library they’d eventually love to have, but they don’t really know how they’ll make it happen. The most important books to start with are the Tanzanian textbooks. They are, after all, the one place that someone can find all of the material the students will be required to know on their important national exams. It turns out one Tanzanian textbook would cost the equivalent to about 5USD.
Libraries are not always fully utilized by students and teachers in this country, but we are certain that these sisters would wear these books out! The students and staff would get as much use out of them as possible.
This is where we come in (Mike, myself, and you- our community of family and friends). I remember being in elementary school and walking around the neighborhood asking for pledges for the school marathon. “You’re running a marathon?!” was usually the first response. In reality, it was really just the whole school walking a couple of miles.
This time, however, the marathon is real! In about 1 month we will be travelling to Kilimanjaro (4 full days on a bus, round trip- may be the real marathon). I will be running 26.2 miles (about 42 kilometers for those of you measuring the African way) at the foot of the famous Mt. Kilimanjaro…IN ZUBAZ! That’s right! The Zubaz company (check it out at zubaz.com/aboutus) has graciously offered to match up to $300 of the pledges we receive (that’s about 1 class-worth of textbooks for a subject!). So what can you do? Well, first of all, your prayers would be greatly appreciated! Second, any donation would help a lot (especially with the generous matching system we have). You can make checks payable to
Phoenix Rising/St. John’s Abbey
And you can send them to
Phoenix Rising
Saint John’s Abbey
PO BOX 2015
Collegeville, MN 56321
Since the donations go through the Abbey, they are TAX DEDUCTIBLE! Hizzah!
Also, anything you could do to spread the word (to your churches, family members, schools, and work places) would be greatly appreciated! I know the marathon is coming up quickly, but we will be accepting donations after the run as well.
Lastly, I just want to let you know that we appreciate any support (monetary or otherwise) that you are able to give! You can keep up to date on how the training and fundraising is going on this very blog, and you can always find all of the official information on our website at phoenixrising2@wordpress.com.
Thanks again, God bless, and I’ll do my best to keep you all posted!
*P.S.- If you were getting any funny ideas about trying to send me any sort of package, please know that I appreciate the thought, but you should also know that it likely wouldn’t make it here before I leave anyway. Thus, a nice donation or prayer for us would be a great substitute!
Is it that we have come upon our 5 month Tanziversary? Well, that’s true- we have- but that’s not the announcement.
Is it that I cut my hair (literally cut my own hair with the rest of the volunteers stepping in do some serious salvaging of the job I started)? That’s true too, but it’s not the announcement.
Is it that I am scheduled to teach twice a week at the trade school this term, thus doubling the chance that they may actually have class on a day I teach? True again, but still not what we’re looking for.
Is it that I joined the seminarians for “shamba” (farm work) and “mowed the grass” by swinging a long, dull, knife? Yeah, that happened, but that’s still not it.
Then it has to be that I finally finished the spirituality section of the Seminary library?! That did happen, and thanks for noticing, but that’s not it either.
Alright, it must be that I got to help put up (much needed) new basketball hoops at the seminary that were purchased with money that came indirectly from Dirk Nowitzki? (You can’t make this stuff up). Again this is true, and again not the announcement.
I WILL BE RUNNING THE KILIMANJARO MARATHON ON FEBRUARY 27!!!!!!!!
This is a “big announcement” because Mike and I are turning this marathon (he’s running the 5k) into a fundraiser. It all started in _______, when two volunteers- Paul Conroy and (Br.) Lew Grobe decided they wanted to help out the students of Hanga. You see, school fees for one year are typically at least 300USD, and there are many students who work straight through their holidays and still cannot manage that kind of money. Thus, Paul and Lew started a scholarship fund called Phoenix Rising.
Phoenix is the most popular brand of bicycle here, and it is the brand they used when they rode across the country from Dar es Salaam to Hanga (near Songea if you want to see it on a map). That’s nearly ______ kilometers! Through this large fundraising effort, Paul and Lew were able to start the scholarship fund that still continues to help students today.
We were naturally quite inspired by this story, and we wanted also wanted to do something to help promote education. We truly believe that education, especially in a place that has can have so many struggles with money and resources, is integral for the youth of this country (as it is worldwide). After all, that’s why we came here to teach!
In addition to helping maintain the Phoenix Rising scholarship fund, we found another area of education in which we felt compelled to help. If you have been following my blog, you may recall the 3 wonderful Franciscan sisters that I met a few months back (2 from India, 1 from Ethiopia). They help run the de Paul School in Songea, and it is a beautiful operation. As I have mentioned before, it is clear that they have a deep appreciation for the intricacies of education and the importance of loving the students and developing critical thinking and language skills that will help them to live better lives. However, upon visiting their school, we found that they have no library. They have been allotted 1 textbook per class. How are the students supposed to develop reading skills if they do not have books to read?
This really bothers the sisters, as they long so deeply to instill a love of reading and all the lessons that it can teach. They speak of the library they’d eventually love to have, but they don’t really know how they’ll make it happen. The most important books to start with are the Tanzanian textbooks. They are, after all, the one place that someone can find all of the material the students will be required to know on their important national exams. It turns out one Tanzanian textbook would cost the equivalent to about 5USD.
Libraries are not always fully utilized by students and teachers in this country, but we are certain that these sisters would wear these books out! The students and staff would get as much use out of them as possible.
This is where we come in (Mike, myself, and you- our community of family and friends). I remember being in elementary school and walking around the neighborhood asking for pledges for the school marathon. “You’re running a marathon?!” was usually the first response. In reality, it was really just the whole school walking a couple of miles.
This time, however, the marathon is real! In about 1 month we will be travelling to Kilimanjaro (4 full days on a bus, round trip- may be the real marathon). I will be running 26.2 miles (about 42 kilometers for those of you measuring the African way) at the foot of the famous Mt. Kilimanjaro…IN ZUBAZ! That’s right! The Zubaz company (check it out at zubaz.com/aboutus) has graciously offered to match up to $300 of the pledges we receive (that’s about 1 class-worth of textbooks for a subject!). So what can you do? Well, first of all, your prayers would be greatly appreciated! Second, any donation would help a lot (especially with the generous matching system we have). You can make checks payable to
Phoenix Rising/St. John’s Abbey
And you can send them to
Phoenix Rising
Saint John’s Abbey
PO BOX 2015
Collegeville, MN 56321
Since the donations go through the Abbey, they are TAX DEDUCTIBLE! Hizzah!
Also, anything you could do to spread the word (to your churches, family members, schools, and work places) would be greatly appreciated! I know the marathon is coming up quickly, but we will be accepting donations after the run as well.
Lastly, I just want to let you know that we appreciate any support (monetary or otherwise) that you are able to give! You can keep up to date on how the training and fundraising is going on this very blog, and you can always find all of the official information on our website at phoenixrising2@wordpress.com.
Thanks again, God bless, and I’ll do my best to keep you all posted!
*P.S.- If you were getting any funny ideas about trying to send me any sort of package, please know that I appreciate the thought, but you should also know that it likely wouldn’t make it here before I leave anyway. Thus, a nice donation or prayer for us would be a great substitute!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Back to School!
Welp, it’s official- the new school year is off and running, and boy did it get off to an interesting start. We’d hoped to find out what we’d be teaching before our travels so we’d have plenty of time to prep, but they told us that that sort of thing is not decided until about a week before the school year starts. It seemed silly, but at least we’d have a week to prepare…
…Or would we?! We did have a meeting at St. B. for all staff last Friday (the weekend before school was scheduled to start). This meeting was in all Swahili, so I got to play the game where I desperately listen for key words I know and see if I can get the gist of what’s going on. I’d say I was fairly successful. I’m pretty sure everyone was told to make sure to do their job. I know for certain that the meeting ended without one teacher knowing what s/he was teaching. I also know that, at the end of the meeting, the floor was opened to anyone who had questions for the headmaster. The security guard was last to ask a question, and, based mostly on his motioning toward it, I’m pretty sure he asked if the headmaster had any intention of fixing the deteriorating ceiling in the faculty room we were in (there were missing pieces right above the headmaster’s table). The response from the headmaster elicited some light laughter, and I assume it was some politician-esque joke that didn’t really answer the question. The meeting was adjourned, the headmaster left, and “chai” time began. About five minutes later… a huge chunk of the ceiling fell down on the chai table! Yep, that happened! Real life. Right there. After a pause to make sure the teacher who was lightly scraped by the falling ceiling was okay, the room erupted. Everyone was cracking up, and there was a lady from the kitchen staff who was doing that thing where you think something is so funny that you jump up and down while bending forward at the hip, slowly rotating with each jump until you’ve eventually turned at least 360 degrees. I wish I could be with you (the reader) right now to demonstrate, because it was pretty great….Maybe you had to be there…
Anyway, if you were keeping a calendar when I was explaining the timeline on finding out what we’d teach, the answer is no- you are not mistaken. We really did go into the weekend before the first day of class not knowing if/what we were teaching. So, we showed up at St. B on Monday morning, and I got some interesting news… I’M TEACHING PHYSICS?!
That is correct- I found out 2 hours before my first class that I will be the Form 2 Physics teacher for the boys’ class and the girls’ class! Good. For a second I was getting worried that I wasn’t going to be as deep into my ZPD (see first blog) as last term! To be fair, physics was where they had a need, and I offered. I think it will be a fun challenge, and I hope I can do a good job with some hard work.
This leads me to my first “classroom update” blog of the term. This week we began talking about static electricity (did I mention the librarian is not around so I can’t get the physics book or that the physics book doesn’t actually include the required “static electricity” section anyway?- don’t worry, I picked up some American physics books at the seminary). I had a couple of cool demonstrations I wanted to show the class, but I wanted to make sure I set a little bit of foundation by making sure they know the importance of making detailed observations since they are, after all, scientists at least while I’m in the classroom. I asked the girls class to start by making observations about me (dangerous, right?). Well, they didn’t really say much. They boys, on the other hand, managed to find the “right answer”… After a pause, Xavier stood up and said, “I notice that… you look handsome.” “Correct! Class dismissed!”
Okay, I didn’t say that, but I did agree with him. This answer was followed by a compliment on my hair (ironically I had spent the day messing it up by rubbing balloons on it, but maybe that’s what did the trick) and someone noting that my shirt had “expression”. I’m not positive what that means, but I took it. Then someone said my trousers were nice. I drew the line there, as my khakis were turning downright reddish-brown from kneeling on various dirty surfaces (church kneelers and classroom floors to be at student-desk-level). They seemed to kind of understand my jokes about my looks and my pants, but some good jokes about the smell of my armpits for those in the front row were definitely lost on them. Can’t win them all I guess.
My first demo involved charging a balloon (rubbing it on hair) and getting small pieces of paper to jump to it. While it didn’t work the night before, it worked splendidly in class and they were hooked! Then we were going to have a bunch of demos involving Scotch “Magic” (it’s really called that) Tape, which worked perfectly the night before and flopped each time in class! Hizzah! Welcome to physics teaching! It’s going to be a funky adventure through my ZPD, that’s for sure!
As for the seminary, I found out (on the first day of class, of course) that I’ll be teaching Form 1 Mathematics again. I had been promised Form 2 English (I really was pumped about teaching English here, especially to my old math class), but that changed. Oh well- I’ll probably need the prep time for physics anyway.
The Form 1 class is again right around 70 strong, and they are an energetic bunch! It’s great! I have over double-digit numbers of people raising their hands to answer questions! Magical!
I’ve decided that I have two broad objectives for this class. 1) Teach them the necessary math. 2) Fight the “math fear” that plagues this country. In order to do this, I have drawn on good old Breakthrough Saint Paul. I’ve seen a lot of really cool classes done in other departments that had some sort of crime-solving theme. This leaves the specifics really open (who knows when sports will be involved in clues, or music, or whatever). Thus, this year’s Form 1 math crew will be attempting to catch the “Ndizi Mwizi” (Swahili for “Banana Thief”).
The seminary students have the same thing for lunch and dinner for 4 years straight- “Ugali na Maharagi” (Ugali is this flavorless, thick, mashed potato-y substance made from corn, and maharagi is beans). There’s a huge banana field on the seminary property, but the students never get any. I have blamed this issue on the poor Ndizi Mwizi. He (or she) is writing the class letters, taunting them with mathematical clues that he (or she) does not think the class can solve (because they can’t unless they learn these new concepts). We’ll see how it works. So far they seem intrigued, and a fair amount of them even seemed to understand the premise. Also, they are learning the Breakthrough Spirit Check as an energizer. So far the monk in his thirties in the class seems a bit hesitant to pound on his desk, but we’re working on it!
Finally, I am writing this on Saturday evening, and the Archbishop of Songea was here today celebrating his silver jubilee/blessing the new monastic residence hall. It was a typical celebration (3 hour Mass, speeches, great food, singing and dancing, etc). We took a break from it to see a student/tailor in the village. Then the rain picked up…We sprinted back to the monastery and got absolutely soaked (and got cheered on by villagers who didn’t know what to think as they huddled under any kind of overhangs they could find). The Archbishop seemed to find the sight of soaking wet white people pretty hilarious, but we changed when we realized the celebration still had quite a bit of time left…
It turns out all of my underwear were on the line “drying” outside when the rain came. Also, my only towel was also on the line. Luckily I found some compression shorts I forgot about at the bottom of my bag, and I also learned that bedsheets are really just thin, large towels in disguise. With most of my clothing “drying” outside, I opted for the only logical option- ZUBAZ! It was not even looked twice at for the end of the celebration.
I always wear dress pants to meals, but tonight I thought I could make an exception. After all, it’s pretty much just us young volunteers at the guesthouse refectory right now. Naturally, tonight was the first night we were invited to join the monks in their cloistered refectory! Yep, I can now add “shook the hand of an African Archbishop” to the list of things I’ve done while wearing Zubaz! I’m not going to say it didn’t turn some heads, but, hey, it’s not my fault everyone wants a pair!
…Or would we?! We did have a meeting at St. B. for all staff last Friday (the weekend before school was scheduled to start). This meeting was in all Swahili, so I got to play the game where I desperately listen for key words I know and see if I can get the gist of what’s going on. I’d say I was fairly successful. I’m pretty sure everyone was told to make sure to do their job. I know for certain that the meeting ended without one teacher knowing what s/he was teaching. I also know that, at the end of the meeting, the floor was opened to anyone who had questions for the headmaster. The security guard was last to ask a question, and, based mostly on his motioning toward it, I’m pretty sure he asked if the headmaster had any intention of fixing the deteriorating ceiling in the faculty room we were in (there were missing pieces right above the headmaster’s table). The response from the headmaster elicited some light laughter, and I assume it was some politician-esque joke that didn’t really answer the question. The meeting was adjourned, the headmaster left, and “chai” time began. About five minutes later… a huge chunk of the ceiling fell down on the chai table! Yep, that happened! Real life. Right there. After a pause to make sure the teacher who was lightly scraped by the falling ceiling was okay, the room erupted. Everyone was cracking up, and there was a lady from the kitchen staff who was doing that thing where you think something is so funny that you jump up and down while bending forward at the hip, slowly rotating with each jump until you’ve eventually turned at least 360 degrees. I wish I could be with you (the reader) right now to demonstrate, because it was pretty great….Maybe you had to be there…
Anyway, if you were keeping a calendar when I was explaining the timeline on finding out what we’d teach, the answer is no- you are not mistaken. We really did go into the weekend before the first day of class not knowing if/what we were teaching. So, we showed up at St. B on Monday morning, and I got some interesting news… I’M TEACHING PHYSICS?!
That is correct- I found out 2 hours before my first class that I will be the Form 2 Physics teacher for the boys’ class and the girls’ class! Good. For a second I was getting worried that I wasn’t going to be as deep into my ZPD (see first blog) as last term! To be fair, physics was where they had a need, and I offered. I think it will be a fun challenge, and I hope I can do a good job with some hard work.
This leads me to my first “classroom update” blog of the term. This week we began talking about static electricity (did I mention the librarian is not around so I can’t get the physics book or that the physics book doesn’t actually include the required “static electricity” section anyway?- don’t worry, I picked up some American physics books at the seminary). I had a couple of cool demonstrations I wanted to show the class, but I wanted to make sure I set a little bit of foundation by making sure they know the importance of making detailed observations since they are, after all, scientists at least while I’m in the classroom. I asked the girls class to start by making observations about me (dangerous, right?). Well, they didn’t really say much. They boys, on the other hand, managed to find the “right answer”… After a pause, Xavier stood up and said, “I notice that… you look handsome.” “Correct! Class dismissed!”
Okay, I didn’t say that, but I did agree with him. This answer was followed by a compliment on my hair (ironically I had spent the day messing it up by rubbing balloons on it, but maybe that’s what did the trick) and someone noting that my shirt had “expression”. I’m not positive what that means, but I took it. Then someone said my trousers were nice. I drew the line there, as my khakis were turning downright reddish-brown from kneeling on various dirty surfaces (church kneelers and classroom floors to be at student-desk-level). They seemed to kind of understand my jokes about my looks and my pants, but some good jokes about the smell of my armpits for those in the front row were definitely lost on them. Can’t win them all I guess.
My first demo involved charging a balloon (rubbing it on hair) and getting small pieces of paper to jump to it. While it didn’t work the night before, it worked splendidly in class and they were hooked! Then we were going to have a bunch of demos involving Scotch “Magic” (it’s really called that) Tape, which worked perfectly the night before and flopped each time in class! Hizzah! Welcome to physics teaching! It’s going to be a funky adventure through my ZPD, that’s for sure!
As for the seminary, I found out (on the first day of class, of course) that I’ll be teaching Form 1 Mathematics again. I had been promised Form 2 English (I really was pumped about teaching English here, especially to my old math class), but that changed. Oh well- I’ll probably need the prep time for physics anyway.
The Form 1 class is again right around 70 strong, and they are an energetic bunch! It’s great! I have over double-digit numbers of people raising their hands to answer questions! Magical!
I’ve decided that I have two broad objectives for this class. 1) Teach them the necessary math. 2) Fight the “math fear” that plagues this country. In order to do this, I have drawn on good old Breakthrough Saint Paul. I’ve seen a lot of really cool classes done in other departments that had some sort of crime-solving theme. This leaves the specifics really open (who knows when sports will be involved in clues, or music, or whatever). Thus, this year’s Form 1 math crew will be attempting to catch the “Ndizi Mwizi” (Swahili for “Banana Thief”).
The seminary students have the same thing for lunch and dinner for 4 years straight- “Ugali na Maharagi” (Ugali is this flavorless, thick, mashed potato-y substance made from corn, and maharagi is beans). There’s a huge banana field on the seminary property, but the students never get any. I have blamed this issue on the poor Ndizi Mwizi. He (or she) is writing the class letters, taunting them with mathematical clues that he (or she) does not think the class can solve (because they can’t unless they learn these new concepts). We’ll see how it works. So far they seem intrigued, and a fair amount of them even seemed to understand the premise. Also, they are learning the Breakthrough Spirit Check as an energizer. So far the monk in his thirties in the class seems a bit hesitant to pound on his desk, but we’re working on it!
Finally, I am writing this on Saturday evening, and the Archbishop of Songea was here today celebrating his silver jubilee/blessing the new monastic residence hall. It was a typical celebration (3 hour Mass, speeches, great food, singing and dancing, etc). We took a break from it to see a student/tailor in the village. Then the rain picked up…We sprinted back to the monastery and got absolutely soaked (and got cheered on by villagers who didn’t know what to think as they huddled under any kind of overhangs they could find). The Archbishop seemed to find the sight of soaking wet white people pretty hilarious, but we changed when we realized the celebration still had quite a bit of time left…
It turns out all of my underwear were on the line “drying” outside when the rain came. Also, my only towel was also on the line. Luckily I found some compression shorts I forgot about at the bottom of my bag, and I also learned that bedsheets are really just thin, large towels in disguise. With most of my clothing “drying” outside, I opted for the only logical option- ZUBAZ! It was not even looked twice at for the end of the celebration.
I always wear dress pants to meals, but tonight I thought I could make an exception. After all, it’s pretty much just us young volunteers at the guesthouse refectory right now. Naturally, tonight was the first night we were invited to join the monks in their cloistered refectory! Yep, I can now add “shook the hand of an African Archbishop” to the list of things I’ve done while wearing Zubaz! I’m not going to say it didn’t turn some heads, but, hey, it’s not my fault everyone wants a pair!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
So Worth It
To preface this blog that may turn into a novel, I just have to remind you that you can feel free to not read it. My first couple of days in Nairobi included some of the most adventurous experiences and my favorite experience (thus far) on this continent. They may very well be “you had to be there” stories (my apologies), and they are definitely stories that are more easily told than written. That being said, I’m kind of excited about the challenge of trying to do them justice through written word. (English majors, I apologize for the inevitable jumping between tenses- its how I talk, and I’m a math major anyway!) Plus, I have the time, and I need about break from studying Kiswahili. So, here it goes:
First, I should also mention that I had two goals for the vacation. I wanted to see Alex, Simon, and Fr. Francis. Check! It was great to see them! I also wanted to play competitive Ultimate Frisbee since I knew that it was the only chance I’d get until returning home. While we were there, the Nairobi Frisbee crew was going to be playing twice.
I tried to go to both.
This is what unfolded:
After having been in Nairobi for A day (“A” as in “apple”), it was finally the big day- my first shot at joining in on some Ultimate. It was a pretty anticlimactic beginning- I just grabbed my Frisbee stuff (aka a Frisbee) and headed to the matatu stand (“matatu” is the Kenyan city bus). I remembered from the day before how to get to the city center, and I had no problem doing so. Once in the city, I wandered around for a good while searching for the number 6 bus, and finally found it. I was looking for the UN as we drove (under the impression that the UN would be noticeable). I started to wonder after we had gone quite a ways, and I asked the man next to me in Swahili if we had passed it. He had an uncomfortable grin, as if he felt sorry for me, and said that it was a ways back. Just then I realized the matatu was at the end of its line. Someone told the driver I had meant to go the UN, and he replied with, “Why didn’t you tell me?!” I didn’t know it worked that way. He told me to get back in and he’d take me back on his way…Then we pulled into an empty parking lot and sat there…He explained that his last conductor (the guy who collects everyone’s fare) was arrested (apparently I saw it happen, I just thought they were switching conductors at the time). He had gotten a new one for that trip, but apparently he too was afraid of the police, so he needed to wait for another new one. I didn’t find it necessary to ask why, and I actually was really close to offering to be his new conductor (it seems all you do is shout where it is going as you hang out the window, and you bang on the roof when the driver should stop). Anyway, we found our man and we were off. After many more stops, we were at the UN. I thanked my new friend and began wandering.
I finally found an American sounding girl wearing athletic clothing, and she told me Frisbee was just at the back of the UN complex I had just come across. She assured me that even though my matatu adventure had made me late, they were still playing. I approached the front gate of the UN (as in UNITED NATIONS- kind of ridiculous when I look back on it). Security asked to see a badge, and I explained that I didn’t have one; that I was just visiting some friends to play a game. He reluctantly said he would settle for a passport. As I mentioned, I grabbed my Frisbee…that doesn’t count as identification…Yep, this guy forgot his passport and was trying to get into the United Nations with no ID…and no luck.
I wandered outside the UN complex until I came upon what appeared to be the back entrance. Naturally, I slowly entered. I finally saw a security guard putting his shoes on. He asked what I was looking for, and I told him. He said to go to the front gate (the one that didn’t work). I said I was wondering if I could also reach the field this way, and he asked where I was from. His response to me being from the U.S.A. was, “We can’t be friends.”… Gulp.
All I could think to say was, “But Obama’s father was born in Kenya”…trepidation (still doing the big vocab. thing- maybe it’s a New Year’s Resolution)… He smiled, we exchanged some Kiswahili pleasantries, and the next thing I know he’s literally asking to be my friend, and we exchange contact information. If I ever have a Kenyan visitor named Moses, feel free to talk to him about Obama.
Moses goes on to explain that, unfortunately, his gate does not lead to the fields. He says I should try the front one again, so I head back and tell them “Moses sent me”. It’s getting late and a new guard on duty grins and says I should run, because they’ll be done soon! Clutch!
I run across the United Nation compound (yep, it happened!), and I reach the field just in time to see a catch in the end zone and hear “That’s game”. Yep, I had left early in the afternoon (3:45) on my adventure, and here it was, 7:00, game over. The guys told me I could come on Sunday, and, if I wanted, I could help them teach some kids from Kibera (biggest slum in Africa if not the world) how to play earlier on Sunday. This was a sweet offer, and I had enjoyed my attempt, so I wasn’t too bummed.
I caught a ride back partway with a Frisbee guy named Anderson. The only problem was he was from Nairobi and apparently misunderstood where I was trying to get to, so he didn’t drive me to the most helpful spot to catch a matatu. He let me off and kindly explained how I would get to the church, and I thanked him.
This is where I should pause to explain that Nairobi is known as a not-that-safe-city, but it’s said to be getting much better. Plus, they say the city center isn’t that bad. After all, it kind of just has the same dangers as any big city. In general, people advise that if you don’t travel alone at night, you have nothing to worry about. So what was I doing on my second day there?...Traveling alone…at night.
I can honestly say that I never felt the least bit scared. I tend to trust people unless I’m given a good reason not to, so I was walking the streets assuming that nothing would happen. Maybe it’s not healthy, but that’s just how I work I guess. I just stayed friendly and didn’t give anyone a reason to think I didn’t know what I was doing.
Anyway, I wandered for a while (a common theme when searching for busses while learning the lay of the land), and when I found the right one, the driver told me to take a different one. I took the one I was told. We started driving toward my stop, but we veered and kept going for quite a ways. I ask the driver what’s up, and he said he would normally go to that stop, but there’s a traffic jam on the way, so he didn’t…Of course. I should have known. ;)
He was kind enough to say he’d bring me there on his way back. This driver ends up switching with a different driver, but he luckily tells that driver where I need to go. After the new driver cackles (reason unknown) about my destination, he promises to take me there. We go on to have a great chat, and he explains that he is a missionary too (bus driving temporarily?), and he says that if I am ever in the city with no place to stay, I can stay on his property for 2 days with no charge. This is quite a change from the much more common requests for money from me.
Short story long, he dropped me off at the right stop, and I had one heck of a story to tell when I got back. (My cell phone wasn’t working, so the gang wasn’t necessarily sure that I knew what I was doing, although I had contacted them once with Anderson’s phone to let them know I was fine.)
That was Friday. When Sunday rolled around, I was all rested up and ready for round two. After Mike, Simon, Alex, and Reza left for a volunteer appreciation thing, I realized I was all alone at the church, and I did not know how to get to the new field to help teach the children. I asked some workers and got a whole mess of different answers (ranging from “You can walk there” to strings of bus connections I’d need to make.) Finally, someone called his brother who would know, and I got the most trustworthy advice I felt I was going to get.
I left for the city center (an easy connection at this point) in mid-morning in order to get to the fields for the afternoon session even if I had another adventure. This time I searched for the city center for probably about 2 hours until I finally found a bus I thought might work. It did, indeed, work, and I got to the junction I was supposed to get to with a few minutes to spare! “Perfect”, I thought, “I am not late, but I’m just on time, so they should already be setting up.”…False.
I found the fields I that I assumed would be used, but it was at the University of Nairobi, and the guards wouldn’t let me in (come on, if the UN will do it…) and said they didn’t think the kids were coming for Frisbee today. After more aimless wandering, I convinced the guards to let me check to see if anyone was there. I checked the fields, and, as I could see from the road, no one was there, but at least I was in. I wandered for a while (aimlessly, of course), and then fate took its course.
I saw a Kenyan student wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a plate on it, but it said “Si Sahani” (meaning basically “not a plate”), as he passed I caught a glance of the back of his shirt, and I joyfully read “It’s NOT A PLATE” First Annual Nairobi Frisbee Tournament”! Hizzah!
I asked him if he played, and he said yes. We chatted for a while, and he said he didn’t think the Kibera kids were coming, but he said, “We” have a practice at 3:30. I didn’t know who “we” was, but I was down for waiting a couple of hours. He let me use his phone, and I tried to get a hold of a friends’ sister who attends the university, but I hung up not knowing for sure if she’d make it in time to meet up, so I sat on a bench waiting for her and/or 3:30.
As a cool break from my idle sitting (not wanting to be seen by the guards that let me “look for my friends”, I began watching a guy shooting some hoops. I decided to head over to him and see if I could rebound. After some shooting around, he asked, “Do you know 3-pointers?” I thought about telling him that 3-pointers and I are pretty good friends, but instead I smiled and said that I used to play quite a bit, and I got to spend some time teaching him proper shooting form and a couple of dribbling drills. It was great! Unfortunately, some guy that apparently has the authority to do so came and demanded that we give him the ball.
After a little more sitting, some people began to congregate on the field. That’s when stuff got real.
It turns out that this practice was being run by a Swedish gym teacher named Ole. After we established that I know very little about Sweden (“Where in Sweden are you from?”—“Do you know anything other than Stockholm?”—“No…”—“It’s nowhere near Stockholm.”), Ole explained that he really didn’t know much about the game of Ultimate, but he thought it was a great game for people that don’t have much, because you just need a field and a piece of plastic, and it teaches some great lessons. Cool.
What I thought was going to be just a college Ultimate practice turned out to be a “coaches’ practice”. You see, Ole and some others have been teaching young people from many of Nairobi’s slums how to play Ultimate, and each slum has one or two coaches. These coaches were at the university that beautiful Sunday for extra, advanced practice so that they could go back to their respective slums and help their teams develop further.
We scrimmaged for quite a while, and even though it wasn’t at the level of the game of Western players I was apparently missing, it was so cool! It was great to run around and play a pretty competitive game, and it was amazing to see how good some of these guys and girls (most probably about my age, some younger, some older) were after learning the game only 2 months ago! I got to be on the “slums” team, and they definitely played with a chip on their shoulder as we narrowly beat the team from the university.
I was beaming, but little did I know, the best was yet to come. After the scrimmage everyone gathered, and Ole asked if I would answer some questions since he only knew basics about the game.
They had all sorts of questions, and I was able to give a lot of random tips and clarifications. Then someone asked about what happens when someone thinks they caught a disc while the other team thinks it hits the ground first. I got to explain the Spirit of the Game (it’s trademarked- check it out), and we talked about what it means to be honest and fair, even in such a competitive situation. At first they laughed at the idea of admitting you didn’t catch it if you know you didn’t, but we kept talking about what that says about the kind of person you are and what that means about the way you will live your life outside of the game, and they really started to take it seriously and get it. Afterward they were thanking me and explaining that they were excited to go back to their slums and try to teach their kids about the life lessons of the game! It made my entire vacation! It was so powerful to see these people that have just about nothing, walking long distances to come play the game we love and learn how to better spread the message and the game to those around them in order to help keep them on a good life path! It really made my entire vacation, and I was honored to have accidentally gotten to be a tiny part of it!
Of course, I still had to get myself back to the church one more time… I caught the first matatu I could back into the city center, and from there I kept walking up and down the same street looking for the cross street I knew I wanted. By the time it got dark I finally learned that the street I was looking for ran parallel and was one block over (the security guards around are really friendly and helpful, but they don’t necessarily communicate things like that too clearly…). I caught the right matatu back and made sure he would go to my stop regardless of traffic. Of course, he passed my stop and I had to yell at him in Swahili to stop, and he eventually did a ways past where I needed to be. I got out and walked back, ecstatic about my great adventure and experience, thinking that the excitement was done…
Well, let’s just say it was plenty dark, and a certain Crystal, MN native who had just had a phenomenal day managed to top it all off by falling into a ditch right before arriving at his final destination. I found it pretty funny as I climbed out, and I could not wipe the smile from my face.
So, moral of the story- more time than I ever expected to spend on/searching for Nairobi matatus and not playing any seriously competitive Ultimate was SO. INCREDIBLY. WORTH IT!
First, I should also mention that I had two goals for the vacation. I wanted to see Alex, Simon, and Fr. Francis. Check! It was great to see them! I also wanted to play competitive Ultimate Frisbee since I knew that it was the only chance I’d get until returning home. While we were there, the Nairobi Frisbee crew was going to be playing twice.
I tried to go to both.
This is what unfolded:
After having been in Nairobi for A day (“A” as in “apple”), it was finally the big day- my first shot at joining in on some Ultimate. It was a pretty anticlimactic beginning- I just grabbed my Frisbee stuff (aka a Frisbee) and headed to the matatu stand (“matatu” is the Kenyan city bus). I remembered from the day before how to get to the city center, and I had no problem doing so. Once in the city, I wandered around for a good while searching for the number 6 bus, and finally found it. I was looking for the UN as we drove (under the impression that the UN would be noticeable). I started to wonder after we had gone quite a ways, and I asked the man next to me in Swahili if we had passed it. He had an uncomfortable grin, as if he felt sorry for me, and said that it was a ways back. Just then I realized the matatu was at the end of its line. Someone told the driver I had meant to go the UN, and he replied with, “Why didn’t you tell me?!” I didn’t know it worked that way. He told me to get back in and he’d take me back on his way…Then we pulled into an empty parking lot and sat there…He explained that his last conductor (the guy who collects everyone’s fare) was arrested (apparently I saw it happen, I just thought they were switching conductors at the time). He had gotten a new one for that trip, but apparently he too was afraid of the police, so he needed to wait for another new one. I didn’t find it necessary to ask why, and I actually was really close to offering to be his new conductor (it seems all you do is shout where it is going as you hang out the window, and you bang on the roof when the driver should stop). Anyway, we found our man and we were off. After many more stops, we were at the UN. I thanked my new friend and began wandering.
I finally found an American sounding girl wearing athletic clothing, and she told me Frisbee was just at the back of the UN complex I had just come across. She assured me that even though my matatu adventure had made me late, they were still playing. I approached the front gate of the UN (as in UNITED NATIONS- kind of ridiculous when I look back on it). Security asked to see a badge, and I explained that I didn’t have one; that I was just visiting some friends to play a game. He reluctantly said he would settle for a passport. As I mentioned, I grabbed my Frisbee…that doesn’t count as identification…Yep, this guy forgot his passport and was trying to get into the United Nations with no ID…and no luck.
I wandered outside the UN complex until I came upon what appeared to be the back entrance. Naturally, I slowly entered. I finally saw a security guard putting his shoes on. He asked what I was looking for, and I told him. He said to go to the front gate (the one that didn’t work). I said I was wondering if I could also reach the field this way, and he asked where I was from. His response to me being from the U.S.A. was, “We can’t be friends.”… Gulp.
All I could think to say was, “But Obama’s father was born in Kenya”…trepidation (still doing the big vocab. thing- maybe it’s a New Year’s Resolution)… He smiled, we exchanged some Kiswahili pleasantries, and the next thing I know he’s literally asking to be my friend, and we exchange contact information. If I ever have a Kenyan visitor named Moses, feel free to talk to him about Obama.
Moses goes on to explain that, unfortunately, his gate does not lead to the fields. He says I should try the front one again, so I head back and tell them “Moses sent me”. It’s getting late and a new guard on duty grins and says I should run, because they’ll be done soon! Clutch!
I run across the United Nation compound (yep, it happened!), and I reach the field just in time to see a catch in the end zone and hear “That’s game”. Yep, I had left early in the afternoon (3:45) on my adventure, and here it was, 7:00, game over. The guys told me I could come on Sunday, and, if I wanted, I could help them teach some kids from Kibera (biggest slum in Africa if not the world) how to play earlier on Sunday. This was a sweet offer, and I had enjoyed my attempt, so I wasn’t too bummed.
I caught a ride back partway with a Frisbee guy named Anderson. The only problem was he was from Nairobi and apparently misunderstood where I was trying to get to, so he didn’t drive me to the most helpful spot to catch a matatu. He let me off and kindly explained how I would get to the church, and I thanked him.
This is where I should pause to explain that Nairobi is known as a not-that-safe-city, but it’s said to be getting much better. Plus, they say the city center isn’t that bad. After all, it kind of just has the same dangers as any big city. In general, people advise that if you don’t travel alone at night, you have nothing to worry about. So what was I doing on my second day there?...Traveling alone…at night.
I can honestly say that I never felt the least bit scared. I tend to trust people unless I’m given a good reason not to, so I was walking the streets assuming that nothing would happen. Maybe it’s not healthy, but that’s just how I work I guess. I just stayed friendly and didn’t give anyone a reason to think I didn’t know what I was doing.
Anyway, I wandered for a while (a common theme when searching for busses while learning the lay of the land), and when I found the right one, the driver told me to take a different one. I took the one I was told. We started driving toward my stop, but we veered and kept going for quite a ways. I ask the driver what’s up, and he said he would normally go to that stop, but there’s a traffic jam on the way, so he didn’t…Of course. I should have known. ;)
He was kind enough to say he’d bring me there on his way back. This driver ends up switching with a different driver, but he luckily tells that driver where I need to go. After the new driver cackles (reason unknown) about my destination, he promises to take me there. We go on to have a great chat, and he explains that he is a missionary too (bus driving temporarily?), and he says that if I am ever in the city with no place to stay, I can stay on his property for 2 days with no charge. This is quite a change from the much more common requests for money from me.
Short story long, he dropped me off at the right stop, and I had one heck of a story to tell when I got back. (My cell phone wasn’t working, so the gang wasn’t necessarily sure that I knew what I was doing, although I had contacted them once with Anderson’s phone to let them know I was fine.)
That was Friday. When Sunday rolled around, I was all rested up and ready for round two. After Mike, Simon, Alex, and Reza left for a volunteer appreciation thing, I realized I was all alone at the church, and I did not know how to get to the new field to help teach the children. I asked some workers and got a whole mess of different answers (ranging from “You can walk there” to strings of bus connections I’d need to make.) Finally, someone called his brother who would know, and I got the most trustworthy advice I felt I was going to get.
I left for the city center (an easy connection at this point) in mid-morning in order to get to the fields for the afternoon session even if I had another adventure. This time I searched for the city center for probably about 2 hours until I finally found a bus I thought might work. It did, indeed, work, and I got to the junction I was supposed to get to with a few minutes to spare! “Perfect”, I thought, “I am not late, but I’m just on time, so they should already be setting up.”…False.
I found the fields I that I assumed would be used, but it was at the University of Nairobi, and the guards wouldn’t let me in (come on, if the UN will do it…) and said they didn’t think the kids were coming for Frisbee today. After more aimless wandering, I convinced the guards to let me check to see if anyone was there. I checked the fields, and, as I could see from the road, no one was there, but at least I was in. I wandered for a while (aimlessly, of course), and then fate took its course.
I saw a Kenyan student wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a plate on it, but it said “Si Sahani” (meaning basically “not a plate”), as he passed I caught a glance of the back of his shirt, and I joyfully read “It’s NOT A PLATE” First Annual Nairobi Frisbee Tournament”! Hizzah!
I asked him if he played, and he said yes. We chatted for a while, and he said he didn’t think the Kibera kids were coming, but he said, “We” have a practice at 3:30. I didn’t know who “we” was, but I was down for waiting a couple of hours. He let me use his phone, and I tried to get a hold of a friends’ sister who attends the university, but I hung up not knowing for sure if she’d make it in time to meet up, so I sat on a bench waiting for her and/or 3:30.
As a cool break from my idle sitting (not wanting to be seen by the guards that let me “look for my friends”, I began watching a guy shooting some hoops. I decided to head over to him and see if I could rebound. After some shooting around, he asked, “Do you know 3-pointers?” I thought about telling him that 3-pointers and I are pretty good friends, but instead I smiled and said that I used to play quite a bit, and I got to spend some time teaching him proper shooting form and a couple of dribbling drills. It was great! Unfortunately, some guy that apparently has the authority to do so came and demanded that we give him the ball.
After a little more sitting, some people began to congregate on the field. That’s when stuff got real.
It turns out that this practice was being run by a Swedish gym teacher named Ole. After we established that I know very little about Sweden (“Where in Sweden are you from?”—“Do you know anything other than Stockholm?”—“No…”—“It’s nowhere near Stockholm.”), Ole explained that he really didn’t know much about the game of Ultimate, but he thought it was a great game for people that don’t have much, because you just need a field and a piece of plastic, and it teaches some great lessons. Cool.
What I thought was going to be just a college Ultimate practice turned out to be a “coaches’ practice”. You see, Ole and some others have been teaching young people from many of Nairobi’s slums how to play Ultimate, and each slum has one or two coaches. These coaches were at the university that beautiful Sunday for extra, advanced practice so that they could go back to their respective slums and help their teams develop further.
We scrimmaged for quite a while, and even though it wasn’t at the level of the game of Western players I was apparently missing, it was so cool! It was great to run around and play a pretty competitive game, and it was amazing to see how good some of these guys and girls (most probably about my age, some younger, some older) were after learning the game only 2 months ago! I got to be on the “slums” team, and they definitely played with a chip on their shoulder as we narrowly beat the team from the university.
I was beaming, but little did I know, the best was yet to come. After the scrimmage everyone gathered, and Ole asked if I would answer some questions since he only knew basics about the game.
They had all sorts of questions, and I was able to give a lot of random tips and clarifications. Then someone asked about what happens when someone thinks they caught a disc while the other team thinks it hits the ground first. I got to explain the Spirit of the Game (it’s trademarked- check it out), and we talked about what it means to be honest and fair, even in such a competitive situation. At first they laughed at the idea of admitting you didn’t catch it if you know you didn’t, but we kept talking about what that says about the kind of person you are and what that means about the way you will live your life outside of the game, and they really started to take it seriously and get it. Afterward they were thanking me and explaining that they were excited to go back to their slums and try to teach their kids about the life lessons of the game! It made my entire vacation! It was so powerful to see these people that have just about nothing, walking long distances to come play the game we love and learn how to better spread the message and the game to those around them in order to help keep them on a good life path! It really made my entire vacation, and I was honored to have accidentally gotten to be a tiny part of it!
Of course, I still had to get myself back to the church one more time… I caught the first matatu I could back into the city center, and from there I kept walking up and down the same street looking for the cross street I knew I wanted. By the time it got dark I finally learned that the street I was looking for ran parallel and was one block over (the security guards around are really friendly and helpful, but they don’t necessarily communicate things like that too clearly…). I caught the right matatu back and made sure he would go to my stop regardless of traffic. Of course, he passed my stop and I had to yell at him in Swahili to stop, and he eventually did a ways past where I needed to be. I got out and walked back, ecstatic about my great adventure and experience, thinking that the excitement was done…
Well, let’s just say it was plenty dark, and a certain Crystal, MN native who had just had a phenomenal day managed to top it all off by falling into a ditch right before arriving at his final destination. I found it pretty funny as I climbed out, and I could not wipe the smile from my face.
So, moral of the story- more time than I ever expected to spend on/searching for Nairobi matatus and not playing any seriously competitive Ultimate was SO. INCREDIBLY. WORTH IT!
Hanga, Sweet Hanga
We are officially back in Hanga and ready to get back to work! Of course, that doesn’t mean people are necessarily ready to give us our work, but we’re excited to get to it as soon as it’s given!
We had a nice bus ride back from Lamu to Mombasa (I’m trying to give you a chance to work on your East African geography with all of this). We got the same driver that we had on the way from Mombasa to Lamu. This was very intentional, as this driver spent every other evening on Lamu, and he introduced us to the magical man who made what we affectionately call “goo”. It was some combination of lentils, sugar, oil, and goo, and it is goo-d! Also, we were happy to see our bus driver helping captain the ferry back to the mainland in the morning on the way to the bus, as our ferry on the way to the island may or may not have begun floating off and broken down, resulting in a mass transfer of people to two other boats. We did our best to be Johnnies during this chaos, but, if you are wondering, apparently in such a situation, “women and children first” does not apply.
Anyway, the ride back was a bit ridiculous... You know how normally bus seats are, how do you say it?...bolted to the floor and, you know, in one piece? Well, Simon and I seemed to find a couple of anomalies. Our seats immediately began tipping sideways, forward, and backward, and my seatback just about fell off completely. I found it pretty hilarious. Thankfully, the bus staff noticed and set to work immediately. There was already a rope around the window attached to Simon’s seat’s arm in order to, you know, keep the seats from falling over completely. The crew used some serious ingenuity and simply grabbed another rope, tied our seats together, and tied that rope to the overhead compartment. This was pretty effective (we made it back without disaster), but I did learn that a taut (I’m going for the fancy vocab. to make up for all the blogging I haven’t done) rope running right where one’s head naturally lies is a lot like a head slingshot during bumpy rides…Good times.
We stayed one day in Mombasa at our favorite hole-in-the-wall hostel. The staff was seriously so amazed that Americans would stay there that they continually made sure we were comfortable- showering us with toilet paper, soap, and a better lock than usual. We’re not sure if his placement was related to keeping us personally safe or coincidental, but Michael the boxer/security guard literally slept on a mattress outside of our door. I was really glad we got to see them again, as well as our friends at the most delicious restaurant in Mombasa who were so excited to exchange Swahili slang greetings with us that they may not have even noticed we don’t really speak Swahili. Such great people!
Anyway, after a 9ish hour bus ride from Mombasa to Dar es Salaam, we crossed into the New Year (Kwanza!) sleeping in the guesthouse. After a great day of hanging out with a Seminary graduate named Mozart at his house, we caught the bus back to Hanga. It was something around a 15 hour ride, with the promised 10 minute lunch break. Also, good times.
On kind of a proud note, I did manage to read 3 and 2 halves books this holiday season! I read Where We Have Hope (memoir about Zimbabwe), The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccomatios (4 short stories by Yann Martel of Life of Pi- 2 of them I really liked), and Love in Action (a Peace Studies book I read last year by Thich Nhat Hanh, a sweet Vietnamese Buddhist Monk). I also read about half of Zen for Americans (its presence was needed elsewhere) and half of How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (wasn’t really meant as a holiday read).
This was my last “general overview of our travels” blog, and it is also intend to let you know that, like it or not, the blogging will become much more consistent again. Sure I like to keep people posted, but honestly I just enjoy it/it keeps me sane. Also, just a heads up, the next blog is going to be quite lengthy, so feel free to not read it and just ask me to tell you the story sometime if you really want! Happy New Year!
*Two great sidenotes:
1) There’s been a little rain in Hanga, and it’s actually green now!
2) I didn’t even ask for it, but our interim guestmaster brought me a “shelf” (more like giant dresser) for my room, so I am now on my way to an organized room! (On the downside, it appears I may no longer have space in my room to make embarrassing attempts at yoga in the mornings…)
We had a nice bus ride back from Lamu to Mombasa (I’m trying to give you a chance to work on your East African geography with all of this). We got the same driver that we had on the way from Mombasa to Lamu. This was very intentional, as this driver spent every other evening on Lamu, and he introduced us to the magical man who made what we affectionately call “goo”. It was some combination of lentils, sugar, oil, and goo, and it is goo-d! Also, we were happy to see our bus driver helping captain the ferry back to the mainland in the morning on the way to the bus, as our ferry on the way to the island may or may not have begun floating off and broken down, resulting in a mass transfer of people to two other boats. We did our best to be Johnnies during this chaos, but, if you are wondering, apparently in such a situation, “women and children first” does not apply.
Anyway, the ride back was a bit ridiculous... You know how normally bus seats are, how do you say it?...bolted to the floor and, you know, in one piece? Well, Simon and I seemed to find a couple of anomalies. Our seats immediately began tipping sideways, forward, and backward, and my seatback just about fell off completely. I found it pretty hilarious. Thankfully, the bus staff noticed and set to work immediately. There was already a rope around the window attached to Simon’s seat’s arm in order to, you know, keep the seats from falling over completely. The crew used some serious ingenuity and simply grabbed another rope, tied our seats together, and tied that rope to the overhead compartment. This was pretty effective (we made it back without disaster), but I did learn that a taut (I’m going for the fancy vocab. to make up for all the blogging I haven’t done) rope running right where one’s head naturally lies is a lot like a head slingshot during bumpy rides…Good times.
We stayed one day in Mombasa at our favorite hole-in-the-wall hostel. The staff was seriously so amazed that Americans would stay there that they continually made sure we were comfortable- showering us with toilet paper, soap, and a better lock than usual. We’re not sure if his placement was related to keeping us personally safe or coincidental, but Michael the boxer/security guard literally slept on a mattress outside of our door. I was really glad we got to see them again, as well as our friends at the most delicious restaurant in Mombasa who were so excited to exchange Swahili slang greetings with us that they may not have even noticed we don’t really speak Swahili. Such great people!
Anyway, after a 9ish hour bus ride from Mombasa to Dar es Salaam, we crossed into the New Year (Kwanza!) sleeping in the guesthouse. After a great day of hanging out with a Seminary graduate named Mozart at his house, we caught the bus back to Hanga. It was something around a 15 hour ride, with the promised 10 minute lunch break. Also, good times.
On kind of a proud note, I did manage to read 3 and 2 halves books this holiday season! I read Where We Have Hope (memoir about Zimbabwe), The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccomatios (4 short stories by Yann Martel of Life of Pi- 2 of them I really liked), and Love in Action (a Peace Studies book I read last year by Thich Nhat Hanh, a sweet Vietnamese Buddhist Monk). I also read about half of Zen for Americans (its presence was needed elsewhere) and half of How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (wasn’t really meant as a holiday read).
This was my last “general overview of our travels” blog, and it is also intend to let you know that, like it or not, the blogging will become much more consistent again. Sure I like to keep people posted, but honestly I just enjoy it/it keeps me sane. Also, just a heads up, the next blog is going to be quite lengthy, so feel free to not read it and just ask me to tell you the story sometime if you really want! Happy New Year!
*Two great sidenotes:
1) There’s been a little rain in Hanga, and it’s actually green now!
2) I didn’t even ask for it, but our interim guestmaster brought me a “shelf” (more like giant dresser) for my room, so I am now on my way to an organized room! (On the downside, it appears I may no longer have space in my room to make embarrassing attempts at yoga in the mornings…)
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