Okay, okay, I apologize for the tardiness of these last posts. Gosh, since I got home from our trip to Moshi, the internet place where I usually take my computer has not been working. And then other difficulties happened with connection issues... It’s been a really frustrating week because of it, especially because I’m trying really hard to detach myself from things like electronics and internet. However, it’s hard to give up something like my email when that’s my best way to hear from home. It’s almost more important than my phone, considering it’s how I talk to the majority of people I really care about.
So things have changed around here for me this past week. I went back to teaching and was feeling refreshed and excited to try new things. The last exam was really helpful for me because now I had some sort of gage on how much my students actually comprehend. I tried a different approach on talking and teaching, gently singling out students to try things on their own with occasional help from their peers. By the end of the week I felt like we were actually accomplishing things together. And that is when I found out that orientation at Peter Claver was to begin the following week, which was going to pull us completely from teaching at the Youth Centre. As excited as I am about getting things underway for my real placement at the secondary school, I felt terrible about leaving these kids after a month to get another teacher only a few more weeks until holiday. I didn’t even get to tell them. And I was just figuring out their names! I’m still a little bummed about it…
But the last day with them was really fun. The women that take tailoring classes at the Youth Centre were having a fashion show of sorts. Only the girls were required to come to school that day. That morning, the girls got to cleaning the hall, setting up chairs, and getting things ready for the “talent show.” Usually the teachers sit in the office and drink tea while students do things like this, but I wanted to be around them so I tried to help. The girls are so much fun. As I was talking with them or trying to sweep with a broken broom I would feel tiny pulls on my hair. I’d look around and there was a flood of giggles. They are fascinated by my hair. Remembering my own interest in my African American friends’ hair in elementary school, I empathized with their want to just reach out and touch it. After realizing I was completely surrounded by possibly 30 girls just staring and whispering I told the closest one to me that if she asks me in English, I would let her touch my hair. So slowly, together, we said, “Teacher Laura, may I please touch your hair?” (Such a strange sentence, right?) In her sweet accent, she repeated after me and then touched my hair, giggled profusely, and her other friends started reaching out. Students have a hard time articulating questions in English, so I figured I’d take this slightly strange opportunity to practice with them.
“Madam, may I touch your hair?”
Soon the room was all set up for the show. The teachers sat in the front. The women danced their beautiful dresses and other sewn creations to the front. I love the incorporation of dancing with everything. It brings life to everything, even displaying freshly sewn pillowcases. And it shows how fun life can be. There were a few dance breaks between the “acts.” The women and girls tried so hard to get Sean and I to dance. We did for a while, but I haven’t quite figured out the dance shuffle thing yet, and so I feel silly, and consequently look much sillier than I should. But I keep trying. And they love seeing Teacher Laura up there trying to do what they do. The morning ended with a wonderful lunch for the teachers and guests. I often find myself eating with my hands here. I’m not sure why one occasion warrants forks and others don’t, but I’m starting to love the opportunities where I can just dig in (literally). Sometimes I find myself eating with my hands at home, too. I think it tastes better that way. I’m serious!
This week Sean and I have been reporting to K’Ndege (the parish’s name – airport parish) at 8am for orientation with our five other colleagues and Fr. Marty (headmaster). We’ve been reviewing the history of the Jesuits, the history of the Jesuits in Tanzania, learning about how the school has come to be, reviewing the student handbook and discussing a teacher’s vocation. I’m really enjoying getting to know the other teachers and getting an idea of the kind of environment we hope to establish at the school. I am definitely teaching a study skills and speech class for one semester and a ethics/applied philosophy class the second semester, in addition to helping with the English classes small group work. (Teacher friends, I will soon be frantically emailing you for ideas for these classes – so start thinking!!). At first I was a little unsure about all this, but now I’m actually really excited. These types of classes are real-life skills that I can help develop, instead of a typical subject class. I think I will have a lot of flexibility here to really practice cura personalis, care for the whole person (thank you to Paula and Carrie, and the many others, who did this for me during my time at Carroll). And Marty has this incredible vision for incorporating values of the Jesuits and the values of a very important president of Tanzania, Julius Nyerere, which I know will help foster good citizens of this beautiful country.
Soon I will write more details about what I’ve been learning about the school, but for now I just ask for your prayers that we faculty can be guided in the right direction so this school can truly be an institution that truly helps students “to learn, to love, to serve".
09 December 2010
2 Dec 2010
Tuesday, the day of the celebration for Shirima’s jubilee, finally came (after a really long night’s sleep, thank you God!). We bought the family a small gift (booze and cookies, why not?) and started our walk up the steep hill to their home. We sat around as guests arrived, meeting his friends including sisters traveling from Nairobi (one was from England), a few Jesuits and many other interesting people. Shirima said Mass in his backyard on a stage made by his family to a yard full of people sitting on benches and chairs all around. I have no way of estimating how many people, but Shirima later told us that according to the number of plates used at dinner, there may have been well over 600! The choir and youth choir from Shirima’s home parish came, and the family set up a nice sound system for music.
So now this is where the most incredible part of my weekend began – experiencing a traditional mchanga (the tribe) celebration. Typically celebrations in Tanzania have a formal structure, with a schedule of events and a certain way these events play out. And an MC is always in attendance to help things move along. After Mass began speeches made by Shirima’s brother (who may actually be his older cousin), special song sung by the choir, a special performance by the youth choir in which they played out some sort of wedding – I’m not completely sure, but the children sang a song as a tiny girl dressed as a bride and a small boy dresses as a priest stood before Fr. Shirima and sang some song in which the young “priest” prostrated himself before the altar. From my gathering of context clues, I think the performance was symbolizing Shirima’s own entrance into the priesthood. But whatever the true meaning, it was really sweet.
After all this was time for champagne. Shirma was to open a bottle and share it with all of his “special” guests. So Shirma popped the cork and the MC began inviting people to the stage. First the other Jesuits and priests in attendance, then the sisters that traveled from far, then other friends that came from great distances, (note: this is all being gathered from my context clues considering I have no understanding of the actual dialogue from the MC). Soon I heard “mericani” – said, Ameri-cawn-ie, but without the first A – and Sean and I were being pushed onto stage. We had no idea that we were going to be such honored guests! Each guest on stage was handed champagne, the music is cued, and we walked in a little line to have our turn clanging glasses with Fr. Shirima. That was fun! And we were so naïve to think that was the end of it…
Somewhere in the middle of this all is a time for refreshments – aka, let’s pull out the barrels (I found out later there were 12 and 9 were used) of mbege (banana beer) and give liter sized cups to every adult at the place. This family was incredible with the distribution of this stuff. They’d all scoop buckets and run to one end filling cups to the brim, emptying the bucket and running back to the source for more. These cups were really big, especially full of something that has a pretty high percentage of alcohol. It was a scene!
Next on our schedule was the cutting of the cake. Hmm.. that doesn’t sound too strange, right? We wait as two caters push this long cart with an oddly shaped cake covered by a white sheet out in front of Shirima. They unveiled it and sure enough, by Kaga tradition, the “cake” is a roasted goat, head and all, decorated with little veggie circles and a good-luck plant in his mouth. Shirima takes the first cut and then feeds it to the parish priest, then the priest takes a cut and feeds Shirima – I guess another part of tradition? And then again, the calling of the honored guests for Shirima to feed them one by one a piece of goat meat – priests, family members, sisters, friends, and then “mericani” as everyone laughs at our confusion and excitement from it all.
I forgot to mention that also in Tanzanian culture is the constant playing of music and the constant dancing that happens. This becomes most evident when “gift giving” time came and again, the “mericani” were called (we frantically found the gift we had already given that morning to Shirima in the house and awkwardly, except not really awkward at all, re-gave it to him). You are expected to do this dance walk thing, nothing too fancy really just a nice movement to the beat as you walk you gift to him, but for some reason at that moment my body failed me as I became that silly un-rhythmic “mzungu” (remember, that’s slang for white person?) tripping over my feet and feeling like a fool until I just gave up and laughed my way back to my seat.
Last part of the celebration was dinner where again, we and the other honored guests were ushered to a secluded part of the house’s compound where we sat in chairs all facing the same direction and shared an enormous meal, as other guests walked through and left with their dinners to sit elsewhere.
I never imagined this weekend would have been as nice as it was. Part of me felt guilty that my American cloak was the reason I was put on such high regard, but I also realize that if we hadn’t known Shirima so well, we would have just been another guest and I wouldn’t have had the same experience. I felt like I was part of this tradition, this family, this Tanzania. I honestly think I won’t ever forget this weekend.
Thankfully Mt. Kilimanjaro showed its face the morning we were leaving as we waited for our bus to arrive. Honestly, I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I would be – but I think it was because of how far we were from it and all the buildings, etc. that sat in front of it. Don’t worry, I plan on giving it another chance to redeem itself the next time I visit.
That’s all for now… I hope my silly words brought my experience to life for you.
So now this is where the most incredible part of my weekend began – experiencing a traditional mchanga (the tribe) celebration. Typically celebrations in Tanzania have a formal structure, with a schedule of events and a certain way these events play out. And an MC is always in attendance to help things move along. After Mass began speeches made by Shirima’s brother (who may actually be his older cousin), special song sung by the choir, a special performance by the youth choir in which they played out some sort of wedding – I’m not completely sure, but the children sang a song as a tiny girl dressed as a bride and a small boy dresses as a priest stood before Fr. Shirima and sang some song in which the young “priest” prostrated himself before the altar. From my gathering of context clues, I think the performance was symbolizing Shirima’s own entrance into the priesthood. But whatever the true meaning, it was really sweet.
After all this was time for champagne. Shirma was to open a bottle and share it with all of his “special” guests. So Shirma popped the cork and the MC began inviting people to the stage. First the other Jesuits and priests in attendance, then the sisters that traveled from far, then other friends that came from great distances, (note: this is all being gathered from my context clues considering I have no understanding of the actual dialogue from the MC). Soon I heard “mericani” – said, Ameri-cawn-ie, but without the first A – and Sean and I were being pushed onto stage. We had no idea that we were going to be such honored guests! Each guest on stage was handed champagne, the music is cued, and we walked in a little line to have our turn clanging glasses with Fr. Shirima. That was fun! And we were so naïve to think that was the end of it…
Somewhere in the middle of this all is a time for refreshments – aka, let’s pull out the barrels (I found out later there were 12 and 9 were used) of mbege (banana beer) and give liter sized cups to every adult at the place. This family was incredible with the distribution of this stuff. They’d all scoop buckets and run to one end filling cups to the brim, emptying the bucket and running back to the source for more. These cups were really big, especially full of something that has a pretty high percentage of alcohol. It was a scene!
Next on our schedule was the cutting of the cake. Hmm.. that doesn’t sound too strange, right? We wait as two caters push this long cart with an oddly shaped cake covered by a white sheet out in front of Shirima. They unveiled it and sure enough, by Kaga tradition, the “cake” is a roasted goat, head and all, decorated with little veggie circles and a good-luck plant in his mouth. Shirima takes the first cut and then feeds it to the parish priest, then the priest takes a cut and feeds Shirima – I guess another part of tradition? And then again, the calling of the honored guests for Shirima to feed them one by one a piece of goat meat – priests, family members, sisters, friends, and then “mericani” as everyone laughs at our confusion and excitement from it all.
I forgot to mention that also in Tanzanian culture is the constant playing of music and the constant dancing that happens. This becomes most evident when “gift giving” time came and again, the “mericani” were called (we frantically found the gift we had already given that morning to Shirima in the house and awkwardly, except not really awkward at all, re-gave it to him). You are expected to do this dance walk thing, nothing too fancy really just a nice movement to the beat as you walk you gift to him, but for some reason at that moment my body failed me as I became that silly un-rhythmic “mzungu” (remember, that’s slang for white person?) tripping over my feet and feeling like a fool until I just gave up and laughed my way back to my seat.
Last part of the celebration was dinner where again, we and the other honored guests were ushered to a secluded part of the house’s compound where we sat in chairs all facing the same direction and shared an enormous meal, as other guests walked through and left with their dinners to sit elsewhere.
I never imagined this weekend would have been as nice as it was. Part of me felt guilty that my American cloak was the reason I was put on such high regard, but I also realize that if we hadn’t known Shirima so well, we would have just been another guest and I wouldn’t have had the same experience. I felt like I was part of this tradition, this family, this Tanzania. I honestly think I won’t ever forget this weekend.
Thankfully Mt. Kilimanjaro showed its face the morning we were leaving as we waited for our bus to arrive. Honestly, I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I would be – but I think it was because of how far we were from it and all the buildings, etc. that sat in front of it. Don’t worry, I plan on giving it another chance to redeem itself the next time I visit.
That’s all for now… I hope my silly words brought my experience to life for you.
1 Dec 2010
6am wake up to make it to the bus for a 7am departure on Saturday morning – yuck. Fortunately, the bus station is only a short ride away. Unfortunately, the bus trip was anything but short. The lack of sleep was very helpful for this 12 hour hot (very, very hot) bus ride; sleep helped me pass time and also helped me forget how uncomfortable I was. At least this bus ride (compared to my first from Dar) I have enough vocabulary to buy a piece of fresh pineapple and cashews at one of the stops (well, I lied, Jana did). She and I also shared leftover ugali made a few days before – ugali is this staple East African food, a starchy lump of… actually I have no words to describe it. It is pretty tasteless but fills one’s tummy, nonetheless. When the bus-demon decided we had enough torture (okay, I’m exaggerating a lot here), we arrived in Moshi where Fr. Shirima’s bright grin and welcoming hand greeted us as we marched out of the bus. I thought, yes! we made it!, as he ushered us into a bus-cab to begin the next part of our journey to his home village, called Rombo. I didn’t fit in the bus, so Shirima pushed me into the back of another vehicle with two people he claimed didn’t speak English where I would have to “fend for myself.” Haha – not funny, Father. Don’t worry, turned out the man and woman sitting in the front were close friends to Shirima and his family. Our trip to Rombo was very, very bumpy and lasted about two hours. However, the ride was beautiful – I was mesmerized by the window as we passed so much green. This place looked like the tropics; literally, like a rain forest of sorts. Who knew there’d be a place like this in Africa?
Halfway through this drive began the descent of the sun. It was just what I would ever hope from an African sunset – incredibly majestic colors reaching out to ever corner of the sky. Reds and oranges smeared over a landscape of trees that remind me of the Lion King. It’s an image that no camera could ever truly capture. It was the type of sunset that keeps your eyes glued to the spot where the sun disappeared so as to soak up every last drop of color. It was breath-taking.
When we finally arrived “home,” Shirima’s beautiful family welcomed us warmly and filled our tummies with a much-needed and delicious meal, including bananas prepared two different ways. (We ate lots of bananas this weekend because they are grown abundantly in this tropical weather). We were later shuttled to a “hotel” in town where we spent the night. (Tanzanian hotels are not comparable with any stars to hotels in the US – but did you really think they would be?)
The next day we woke around 6am for 7am Mass – the first Sunday of Advent! (though if they mentioned anything about that, I would have no idea). The Masses in Tanzania have yet to get old for me. Despite their length, usually around 2hrs, and the fact that I have no clue what they are saying, the vibrancy of the congregation often gives me the chills (the good kind, of course). Especially the music. Oh, the music! The choirs are made of African angels with voices that harmonize and beats that you can’t resist clapping along. And there are so many religious women here, especially at this parish. Like maybe 20 or so older women and 20 or so young women. It is really incredible to witness, considering the extreme lack of religious women in the States.
After Mass we went back to the house for a breakfast of tea and bread. After chatting a while, we walked with a few others to another church (a few women didn’t go with us that morning). We wanted to check out the home parish of Shirima. We waited around for the next Mass to start, and when the time came we saw masses of people leaving and masses of people entering – another thing about Tanzanian Catholics that keeps me amazed.
When we went back to the house, I tried very hard to talk to the many “family” members that were there preparing the home for the celebration the next day. (I write “family” because that term here is used loosely here, such as brother is for brothers, male cousins, and possibly close family friends. It’s used so loosely, in fact, that often “outsiders” have no idea the true relation!) I asked one Mama if I could help with lunch – and that was my ‘in’. The people are so thrilled when you show any interest in their language, their traditions, their culture. I often look and sound so silly to them, but I think they appreciate my trying (or I’m just making such a fool of myself that they have to laugh – but I’m okay with that, too). Mama took us on a walk through the green to another of their homes where they grow all kinds of fruits and vegetables – we picked some pili pili (hot peppers), and Mama split open a passion fruit for us to taste (it wasn’t ripe so it was really sour). The rest of the day was sitting around or walking around, eating, talking with the family and watching them set up the home.
One of the coolest things from the weekend was watching Shirima’s family make their own beer. His family’s clan is one of the only in Tanzania that make this mbege, a beer-like drink made from bananas. They had barrels and barrels and barrels of this stuff (I’m not kidding, maybe like 10 or so). I saw them do the final stage of straining the mbege. It definitely has a strange and unique taste, one that is definitely indescribable, but I liked it! I was cautious not to drink too much, though, knowing my tolerance level could be irrelevant with something so foreign.
Oh! Also, we took a little hike to see if we could catch a glimpse of Mt. Kilimanjaro – no such luck. Apparently Kili is a “shy” mountain; it only shows it’s peak at certain times of the day. We unfortunately caught it when it was hiding in a cloud of haze. But how cool that Kili is pretty much in their back yard!
Okay, that concludes the first half of this weekend.. it is getting late and I want to give my full attention to describing the following day because of how incredible the celebration went – so I’ll leave that for tomorrow.
Halfway through this drive began the descent of the sun. It was just what I would ever hope from an African sunset – incredibly majestic colors reaching out to ever corner of the sky. Reds and oranges smeared over a landscape of trees that remind me of the Lion King. It’s an image that no camera could ever truly capture. It was the type of sunset that keeps your eyes glued to the spot where the sun disappeared so as to soak up every last drop of color. It was breath-taking.
When we finally arrived “home,” Shirima’s beautiful family welcomed us warmly and filled our tummies with a much-needed and delicious meal, including bananas prepared two different ways. (We ate lots of bananas this weekend because they are grown abundantly in this tropical weather). We were later shuttled to a “hotel” in town where we spent the night. (Tanzanian hotels are not comparable with any stars to hotels in the US – but did you really think they would be?)
The next day we woke around 6am for 7am Mass – the first Sunday of Advent! (though if they mentioned anything about that, I would have no idea). The Masses in Tanzania have yet to get old for me. Despite their length, usually around 2hrs, and the fact that I have no clue what they are saying, the vibrancy of the congregation often gives me the chills (the good kind, of course). Especially the music. Oh, the music! The choirs are made of African angels with voices that harmonize and beats that you can’t resist clapping along. And there are so many religious women here, especially at this parish. Like maybe 20 or so older women and 20 or so young women. It is really incredible to witness, considering the extreme lack of religious women in the States.
After Mass we went back to the house for a breakfast of tea and bread. After chatting a while, we walked with a few others to another church (a few women didn’t go with us that morning). We wanted to check out the home parish of Shirima. We waited around for the next Mass to start, and when the time came we saw masses of people leaving and masses of people entering – another thing about Tanzanian Catholics that keeps me amazed.
When we went back to the house, I tried very hard to talk to the many “family” members that were there preparing the home for the celebration the next day. (I write “family” because that term here is used loosely here, such as brother is for brothers, male cousins, and possibly close family friends. It’s used so loosely, in fact, that often “outsiders” have no idea the true relation!) I asked one Mama if I could help with lunch – and that was my ‘in’. The people are so thrilled when you show any interest in their language, their traditions, their culture. I often look and sound so silly to them, but I think they appreciate my trying (or I’m just making such a fool of myself that they have to laugh – but I’m okay with that, too). Mama took us on a walk through the green to another of their homes where they grow all kinds of fruits and vegetables – we picked some pili pili (hot peppers), and Mama split open a passion fruit for us to taste (it wasn’t ripe so it was really sour). The rest of the day was sitting around or walking around, eating, talking with the family and watching them set up the home.
One of the coolest things from the weekend was watching Shirima’s family make their own beer. His family’s clan is one of the only in Tanzania that make this mbege, a beer-like drink made from bananas. They had barrels and barrels and barrels of this stuff (I’m not kidding, maybe like 10 or so). I saw them do the final stage of straining the mbege. It definitely has a strange and unique taste, one that is definitely indescribable, but I liked it! I was cautious not to drink too much, though, knowing my tolerance level could be irrelevant with something so foreign.
Oh! Also, we took a little hike to see if we could catch a glimpse of Mt. Kilimanjaro – no such luck. Apparently Kili is a “shy” mountain; it only shows it’s peak at certain times of the day. We unfortunately caught it when it was hiding in a cloud of haze. But how cool that Kili is pretty much in their back yard!
Okay, that concludes the first half of this weekend.. it is getting late and I want to give my full attention to describing the following day because of how incredible the celebration went – so I’ll leave that for tomorrow.
26 November 2010
26 Nov 2010
Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!
Sean and I decided to bring turkey day to Dodoma, and I think we were successful! Sean did most of the shopping and Jana and I spent all day preparing a meal for 9. We invited the Jesuit community and our tutor for our American tradition of eating a lot, drinking a lot, and eating a lot more. Our menu:
Cinamon sugar sweet potatoes
Homemade stuffing (Grandma Koch's recipe)
Peas and carrots
Chicken
Gravy
and in lieu of pies, we made a mango crisp and banana cake!
Everything turned out really well and we ate so much! (My stomach is still bulging today!) And like a real thanksgiving, we have leftovers - I'm so excited for lunch today! But the night was so much fun, filled with laughter and singing and dancing, too! We ended the evening with a "film" projected onto one of our walls - Martin has a projector and the whole set up. It was fun. So that was the main attraction for this week.
We lost power for most of the evening on Wednesday night, so we cooked dinner with our lanterns and candles. Our neighbors also lost water (I guess our house is on a different system), so I saw them collecting water into buckets from big puddles outside their homes. It's sad that their cleaning and possibly cooking and drinking water might come from those puddles until the water comes back. And that is if the puddles stay - the hot weather will evaporate them quickly, I'm sure...
I gave my first examination to my English class - identifying the correct pronoun. We played a game first in groups to help review; I think they enjoyed it. They did surprisingly a lot better on these exams than I expected, so I am very pleased.
Sean, Thomas, Jana, and I are heading to Moshi (near Kilimanjaro) tomorrow morning around 6am. We're taking a bus to spend the weekend with Fr. Shirima who is having his Jubilee on Monday. (A Jubilee is a celebration of being a priest for a number of years - his is 25.) He was so kind to invite us and we are very excited. The celebration will take place in his village, so we'll be staying there most of the weekend. I am excited to see northern Tanzania, Mt. Kili, and the village life. It should be an exciting weekend.
That's all for now. I need to nap - yesterday wore me out! Many blessings on the rest of your Thanksgiving weekend! And enjoy those leftovers!
Sean and I decided to bring turkey day to Dodoma, and I think we were successful! Sean did most of the shopping and Jana and I spent all day preparing a meal for 9. We invited the Jesuit community and our tutor for our American tradition of eating a lot, drinking a lot, and eating a lot more. Our menu:
Cinamon sugar sweet potatoes
Homemade stuffing (Grandma Koch's recipe)
Peas and carrots
Chicken
Gravy
and in lieu of pies, we made a mango crisp and banana cake!
Everything turned out really well and we ate so much! (My stomach is still bulging today!) And like a real thanksgiving, we have leftovers - I'm so excited for lunch today! But the night was so much fun, filled with laughter and singing and dancing, too! We ended the evening with a "film" projected onto one of our walls - Martin has a projector and the whole set up. It was fun. So that was the main attraction for this week.
We lost power for most of the evening on Wednesday night, so we cooked dinner with our lanterns and candles. Our neighbors also lost water (I guess our house is on a different system), so I saw them collecting water into buckets from big puddles outside their homes. It's sad that their cleaning and possibly cooking and drinking water might come from those puddles until the water comes back. And that is if the puddles stay - the hot weather will evaporate them quickly, I'm sure...
I gave my first examination to my English class - identifying the correct pronoun. We played a game first in groups to help review; I think they enjoyed it. They did surprisingly a lot better on these exams than I expected, so I am very pleased.
Sean, Thomas, Jana, and I are heading to Moshi (near Kilimanjaro) tomorrow morning around 6am. We're taking a bus to spend the weekend with Fr. Shirima who is having his Jubilee on Monday. (A Jubilee is a celebration of being a priest for a number of years - his is 25.) He was so kind to invite us and we are very excited. The celebration will take place in his village, so we'll be staying there most of the weekend. I am excited to see northern Tanzania, Mt. Kili, and the village life. It should be an exciting weekend.
That's all for now. I need to nap - yesterday wore me out! Many blessings on the rest of your Thanksgiving weekend! And enjoy those leftovers!
23 November 2010
23 Nov 2010
I feel like so many interesting and strange things have happened since the last I’ve written. For starters, I’m starting to branch out in my cooking skills: I’ve tried veggie rice soup, veggie bean burgers, veggie fried rice, and banana cake. I’m afraid I will soon exhaust the rice/bean/veggie/egg combo (hint, hint: send me recipes of things I can make with those ingredients!!). But it is kind of fun to see how things turn out. And I think most of the time my roommates are NOT disgusted by what I offer them. That’s a good start, eh?
Speaking of food, Fr. John and Fr. Leo were visiting Dodoma from Dar and Moshi, so Martin took a group of us to special marketplace nearby. This place had all your typical market-stuff: vegetables and potatoes, lines of blue jeans (these are usually used-looking, and really only for men), lines of other clothes and shoes and sandals, but the main attraction was the meat. Lots and lots of dead this and dead that. Fully skinned whole cows, minus the head that was sitting in a wheelbarrow nearby, and grills cooking everything you’ve never seen nor would be able to put a name to. There was a large eating/sitting area with a tarp roof where we sat, drank a few “Safaris” (one of the beers here), and waited for whatever Martin ordered in this language I’m craving to understand. After some really nice chatting, a kid with a pitcher of hot water came over to let us wash our hands, followed by our entrée of choice: a plate of goat – and not just the nice little pieces of meat, but also the delicious (kidding) intestines and liver. Fr. Leo had a ball watching me taste the tiniest piece of it all. Yes – I tried it – wouldn’t you? Well, it is definitely not my cup of tea. The small intestine was extremely bitter, the large intestine tasted like the fattiest part of a piece of bacon (trust me, ew), and the liver was dry and a little bit tasteless. But I enjoyed the goat-meat – quite a lot actually. I’d probably have it again!
One of the sad facts of life here in Dodoma, however, is the multitude of people who go without. And when I say without, I mean without everything. Including parents, in this case. There were a few kids that stood close to the tent waiting for scraps of food to be thrown on the ground. One boy climbed under our table and picked up a rejected piece (something someone had spit out) and placed it in his little plastic bag. Martin confirmed these were street kids – poor little ones forced to scavenge and live literally on the streets. It is cases like these that makes me realize how hard it will be for me to ever understand what true poverty is like. Friends have told me things about how poor I will be these next two years – but here, I’m still a queen. I’m still a “rich” American living off of a stipend of $50 a month – a stipend that could feed 6 families for the next year, I’m sure. This is a realization that I’m really struggling with lately…
Abrupt subject change: We had our first rain!! Oh, and it was wonderful. I could feel it coming the past few days. There were extra clouds in the sky, and my hair wasn’t behaving like it should (i.e., there was some humidity). And it was a big rain, like giant! We were at a restaurant (Chinese in Africa? What?) with the Jesuits and heard little drops on the tin roof. Quickly a loud orchestra of droplets drowned out our chatter and we just sat there and listened. It was incredible. And the night felt just like a summer rain in the States. I never thought something like a thunderstorm would be a sound that reminded me of home. I slept really well that night.
(This next part is especially for Aunt Jan. I know you’ll be thrilled): So we have kind of a big yard here around our house – not all in one spot, but many little spots around our house that would be perfect for planting a garden. So I asked the Jesuits if it would be okay to plant in this yard and they are all about it (they actually think we’re really funny for wanting to do it – probably because we’re also considering getting egg-laying chickens). I’m thinking tomatoes, peppers, peas, cucumbers, maybe some of the spinach-like veggie they have here. Who knows! I just need to start moving on it. Martin said they have extra seeds, so hopefully we’ll start soon. Wouldn’t that be neat? I’m so excited.
Also! The Jesuits have two guitars that other volunteers have left here over the years. Good thing I didn’t bring one like I was thinking! I took one home the other night. Now all I have to do is convince big brother John (hint hint!!!) to send me some instructions. (You can give me cyber lessons, can’t you John?) I think the garden and learning the guitar would be great hobbies for my time here.
Speaking of family – Thanksgiving is coming up. You know, it’s going to be weird not sharing a big ol’ meal (and lots of wine, right Who-B’s?) together. But even right this minute, I can think of hundreds of memories from Thanksgivings-past that make me smile from ear to ear. I feel blessed to even have those memories, so I think I can make it a measly two years (right Mom? So please don’t cancel Christmas this year!). And I don’t know if you ever realized it, but other countries don’t have Thanksgiving (I know, doi!). So Sean and I are going to try to whip some things up and have the Jesuit community over for a make-shift Thanksgiving dinner. These guys are really becoming our family, so I’m excited to share this holiday with them. We’re thinking stuffing (I think I can pull off a version of Grandma Koch’s?), sweet potatoes, corn, and possibly an apple crisp in lieu of apple pie. We might also try cooking chicken (turkey would be really expensive), but you have to buy them alive (ew) and do like the whole killing, plucking, gutting, icky-thing. Sean’s all about it, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. We’ll see. But if anyone has easy Thanksgiving recipes or ideas, send them along!! (Note: I have to make everything on the stove).
Alright – if I don’t write again before Thursday, have a wonderfully blessed, family-filled, relaxing, belly-filling, wine-drinking Thanksgiving. Believe me when I say I am very thankful for every one of you.
Speaking of food, Fr. John and Fr. Leo were visiting Dodoma from Dar and Moshi, so Martin took a group of us to special marketplace nearby. This place had all your typical market-stuff: vegetables and potatoes, lines of blue jeans (these are usually used-looking, and really only for men), lines of other clothes and shoes and sandals, but the main attraction was the meat. Lots and lots of dead this and dead that. Fully skinned whole cows, minus the head that was sitting in a wheelbarrow nearby, and grills cooking everything you’ve never seen nor would be able to put a name to. There was a large eating/sitting area with a tarp roof where we sat, drank a few “Safaris” (one of the beers here), and waited for whatever Martin ordered in this language I’m craving to understand. After some really nice chatting, a kid with a pitcher of hot water came over to let us wash our hands, followed by our entrée of choice: a plate of goat – and not just the nice little pieces of meat, but also the delicious (kidding) intestines and liver. Fr. Leo had a ball watching me taste the tiniest piece of it all. Yes – I tried it – wouldn’t you? Well, it is definitely not my cup of tea. The small intestine was extremely bitter, the large intestine tasted like the fattiest part of a piece of bacon (trust me, ew), and the liver was dry and a little bit tasteless. But I enjoyed the goat-meat – quite a lot actually. I’d probably have it again!
One of the sad facts of life here in Dodoma, however, is the multitude of people who go without. And when I say without, I mean without everything. Including parents, in this case. There were a few kids that stood close to the tent waiting for scraps of food to be thrown on the ground. One boy climbed under our table and picked up a rejected piece (something someone had spit out) and placed it in his little plastic bag. Martin confirmed these were street kids – poor little ones forced to scavenge and live literally on the streets. It is cases like these that makes me realize how hard it will be for me to ever understand what true poverty is like. Friends have told me things about how poor I will be these next two years – but here, I’m still a queen. I’m still a “rich” American living off of a stipend of $50 a month – a stipend that could feed 6 families for the next year, I’m sure. This is a realization that I’m really struggling with lately…
Abrupt subject change: We had our first rain!! Oh, and it was wonderful. I could feel it coming the past few days. There were extra clouds in the sky, and my hair wasn’t behaving like it should (i.e., there was some humidity). And it was a big rain, like giant! We were at a restaurant (Chinese in Africa? What?) with the Jesuits and heard little drops on the tin roof. Quickly a loud orchestra of droplets drowned out our chatter and we just sat there and listened. It was incredible. And the night felt just like a summer rain in the States. I never thought something like a thunderstorm would be a sound that reminded me of home. I slept really well that night.
(This next part is especially for Aunt Jan. I know you’ll be thrilled): So we have kind of a big yard here around our house – not all in one spot, but many little spots around our house that would be perfect for planting a garden. So I asked the Jesuits if it would be okay to plant in this yard and they are all about it (they actually think we’re really funny for wanting to do it – probably because we’re also considering getting egg-laying chickens). I’m thinking tomatoes, peppers, peas, cucumbers, maybe some of the spinach-like veggie they have here. Who knows! I just need to start moving on it. Martin said they have extra seeds, so hopefully we’ll start soon. Wouldn’t that be neat? I’m so excited.
Also! The Jesuits have two guitars that other volunteers have left here over the years. Good thing I didn’t bring one like I was thinking! I took one home the other night. Now all I have to do is convince big brother John (hint hint!!!) to send me some instructions. (You can give me cyber lessons, can’t you John?) I think the garden and learning the guitar would be great hobbies for my time here.
Speaking of family – Thanksgiving is coming up. You know, it’s going to be weird not sharing a big ol’ meal (and lots of wine, right Who-B’s?) together. But even right this minute, I can think of hundreds of memories from Thanksgivings-past that make me smile from ear to ear. I feel blessed to even have those memories, so I think I can make it a measly two years (right Mom? So please don’t cancel Christmas this year!). And I don’t know if you ever realized it, but other countries don’t have Thanksgiving (I know, doi!). So Sean and I are going to try to whip some things up and have the Jesuit community over for a make-shift Thanksgiving dinner. These guys are really becoming our family, so I’m excited to share this holiday with them. We’re thinking stuffing (I think I can pull off a version of Grandma Koch’s?), sweet potatoes, corn, and possibly an apple crisp in lieu of apple pie. We might also try cooking chicken (turkey would be really expensive), but you have to buy them alive (ew) and do like the whole killing, plucking, gutting, icky-thing. Sean’s all about it, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. We’ll see. But if anyone has easy Thanksgiving recipes or ideas, send them along!! (Note: I have to make everything on the stove).
Alright – if I don’t write again before Thursday, have a wonderfully blessed, family-filled, relaxing, belly-filling, wine-drinking Thanksgiving. Believe me when I say I am very thankful for every one of you.
A typical week
A short list of things that affect my every day:
- the damn neighbor rooster that has the most horrendous call. The first time I heard it, about a week ago at maybe 5:30am, I thought my neighbors were slaughtering the poor thing. Nope – lucky me, this bird is still cock-a-doodling.
- on the other hand, I have the sweetest neighbor cow, a young lad (actually maybe it’s a girl?) whose seldom but very low moo kind of makes me giggle.
- applying loads of anti-mosquito spray to my feet and spf 50 to my arms and face (because of my attire of long skirts and t-shirts, I will be sure to come home with one good-looking farmers tan).
- taking almost freezing cold showers. Yes, we are lucky enough to have a water heater in this house, but gosh, I need to find someway to maintain the JV value of simple living.
- realizing that my butt hurts because of how often I use my bike. (did I mention we have bikes??)
- fighting with my mosquito net to get out of bed every morning
- trying to find new exciting ways to cook rice and vegetables.
- waving to the children who scream, “Mzungu, mzungu!” Mzungu is a term used for white people, and it is sometimes considered derogatory, but honestly after being here I think it depends on who uses it. But coincidentally, “mzungu” translates literally as “person who walks in circles.” (Hey, I can’t be too mad; sometimes it feels like I am!)
Speaking of mzungu, the cutest thing happened the other day, and honestly I’m surprised it hasn’t happen sooner. I was walking with Sean and David my tutor to the Jesuit residence and a group of girls from about 4 to 7yrs were about to pass us. As they did, they ran over yelling “mzungu!” and proceeded to shake our hands. Then these girls reached up and touched my hair. You know, this could have been weird or made me uncomfortable, but it was completely the opposite. They had such innocent faces and were so excited. It was nice.
On Tuesday Fr. Shirima let Sean and I join him as he went to say Mass at a local village. The Jesuits do this often; they say daily Mass in someone’s home. We showed up to a home where the outside porch was covered in Catholic themed kitenge (cloths), candles and buckets full of water. There were many kids there and a few parents sitting on huge mats on the ground. They were singing as they were waiting for Fr. Shirima to arrive. I met the most beautiful bibi (grandmother). I couldn’t help but look at her during the Mass. You can tell that each of her deep wrinkles tells a different tale of her long life. Even as a frail old woman, she looked so strong and powerful. Wow. And what made this beautifully personal Mass even more moving was a surprise (well, at least to me) baptism. You’d think that having these two white strangers share this intimate experience would be strange, and yet it is always exactly the opposite. It is such an honor to be welcomed the way we are by the people of Tanzania.
On Wednesday we had off from the Youth Center because it was a Muslim holiday. (In Tanzania, Muslim holidays are national days off.) Another teacher at the center, Erick, is a student at the University of Dodoma. He has been talking about taking us on a tour there, so we decided this would be the perfect day. Peter the Jesuit drove Erick, David, Sean, Jana, and I across town to the university. This school is so big and really spread out. Rumor has it that it was hastily constructed in an effort to help with the presidential campaign… We took lots of pictures together there. It was a nice tour.
(Random thought: I ate rabbit the other day. The Jesuits had it for lunch, and hell, when else will I try rabbit? It was kind of good! Don’t tell Aunt Ruthie, though, I know how much she liked that neighbor bunny.)
Because Sean and I are both pretty new to cooking, we’ve been desperate to learn from anyone who is willing. David helped us cook that banana dish I already mentioned. Our friend Juma helped us make chipsi mayai which is pretty much like a French fry omlette. And Martin the scholastic showed us how to make chipati, which is a naan or pita like flat-bread. The food here is so good. I’m keeping track of all these recipes so I can make it later.
So one of my absolute most favorite nights so far has been this past Wednesday night. Peter met a family because of their common Ugandan heritage. This family is Muslim and because of the holiday, they invited him to dinner at their home. He asked if it would be okay to bring guests and of course, they were thrilled to have us. IT WAS AWESOME. First, this is the family of one of my students – an extremely bright girl who I was already starting to favor (shh, don’t tell the others!). They were so welcoming and I had such a nice time there. First, they insisted on showing us the traditional way of having a meal. So they put out a mat on the floor, set the food on the mat, and invited us to sit around it. We washed our hands with a pitcher and basin and then ate with our hands. The mother and her friend wrapped me in a kitenge, saying it was easier to sit if I was wearing one, and she was happy to explain that women wear these often around the house. After eating an incredible feast (literally, feast: there was chicken, beef, two types of spinach-like veggies, a pea dish, a cabbage dish, multicolored rice…), we sat around their living room and chatted. I obviously asked how to make some of the dishes and Neema, the mother, insisted that they take me to the market someday, help me buy things and then show me how to cook. She also insisted I keep the kitenge, and said she would take me to her tailor to have it finished and to make a dress. They said the next time we come we will only speak in Kiswahili, knowing that is the only and best way to learn (yikes!). They sent us home with a bag full of eggs from their own chickens. What a night.
And did I ever mention how much I adore the way people say my name? This family emphatically called me “Laura” with a unique roll on the ‘r’. It’s perfect!
- the damn neighbor rooster that has the most horrendous call. The first time I heard it, about a week ago at maybe 5:30am, I thought my neighbors were slaughtering the poor thing. Nope – lucky me, this bird is still cock-a-doodling.
- on the other hand, I have the sweetest neighbor cow, a young lad (actually maybe it’s a girl?) whose seldom but very low moo kind of makes me giggle.
- applying loads of anti-mosquito spray to my feet and spf 50 to my arms and face (because of my attire of long skirts and t-shirts, I will be sure to come home with one good-looking farmers tan).
- taking almost freezing cold showers. Yes, we are lucky enough to have a water heater in this house, but gosh, I need to find someway to maintain the JV value of simple living.
- realizing that my butt hurts because of how often I use my bike. (did I mention we have bikes??)
- fighting with my mosquito net to get out of bed every morning
- trying to find new exciting ways to cook rice and vegetables.
- waving to the children who scream, “Mzungu, mzungu!” Mzungu is a term used for white people, and it is sometimes considered derogatory, but honestly after being here I think it depends on who uses it. But coincidentally, “mzungu” translates literally as “person who walks in circles.” (Hey, I can’t be too mad; sometimes it feels like I am!)
Speaking of mzungu, the cutest thing happened the other day, and honestly I’m surprised it hasn’t happen sooner. I was walking with Sean and David my tutor to the Jesuit residence and a group of girls from about 4 to 7yrs were about to pass us. As they did, they ran over yelling “mzungu!” and proceeded to shake our hands. Then these girls reached up and touched my hair. You know, this could have been weird or made me uncomfortable, but it was completely the opposite. They had such innocent faces and were so excited. It was nice.
On Tuesday Fr. Shirima let Sean and I join him as he went to say Mass at a local village. The Jesuits do this often; they say daily Mass in someone’s home. We showed up to a home where the outside porch was covered in Catholic themed kitenge (cloths), candles and buckets full of water. There were many kids there and a few parents sitting on huge mats on the ground. They were singing as they were waiting for Fr. Shirima to arrive. I met the most beautiful bibi (grandmother). I couldn’t help but look at her during the Mass. You can tell that each of her deep wrinkles tells a different tale of her long life. Even as a frail old woman, she looked so strong and powerful. Wow. And what made this beautifully personal Mass even more moving was a surprise (well, at least to me) baptism. You’d think that having these two white strangers share this intimate experience would be strange, and yet it is always exactly the opposite. It is such an honor to be welcomed the way we are by the people of Tanzania.
On Wednesday we had off from the Youth Center because it was a Muslim holiday. (In Tanzania, Muslim holidays are national days off.) Another teacher at the center, Erick, is a student at the University of Dodoma. He has been talking about taking us on a tour there, so we decided this would be the perfect day. Peter the Jesuit drove Erick, David, Sean, Jana, and I across town to the university. This school is so big and really spread out. Rumor has it that it was hastily constructed in an effort to help with the presidential campaign… We took lots of pictures together there. It was a nice tour.
(Random thought: I ate rabbit the other day. The Jesuits had it for lunch, and hell, when else will I try rabbit? It was kind of good! Don’t tell Aunt Ruthie, though, I know how much she liked that neighbor bunny.)
Because Sean and I are both pretty new to cooking, we’ve been desperate to learn from anyone who is willing. David helped us cook that banana dish I already mentioned. Our friend Juma helped us make chipsi mayai which is pretty much like a French fry omlette. And Martin the scholastic showed us how to make chipati, which is a naan or pita like flat-bread. The food here is so good. I’m keeping track of all these recipes so I can make it later.
So one of my absolute most favorite nights so far has been this past Wednesday night. Peter met a family because of their common Ugandan heritage. This family is Muslim and because of the holiday, they invited him to dinner at their home. He asked if it would be okay to bring guests and of course, they were thrilled to have us. IT WAS AWESOME. First, this is the family of one of my students – an extremely bright girl who I was already starting to favor (shh, don’t tell the others!). They were so welcoming and I had such a nice time there. First, they insisted on showing us the traditional way of having a meal. So they put out a mat on the floor, set the food on the mat, and invited us to sit around it. We washed our hands with a pitcher and basin and then ate with our hands. The mother and her friend wrapped me in a kitenge, saying it was easier to sit if I was wearing one, and she was happy to explain that women wear these often around the house. After eating an incredible feast (literally, feast: there was chicken, beef, two types of spinach-like veggies, a pea dish, a cabbage dish, multicolored rice…), we sat around their living room and chatted. I obviously asked how to make some of the dishes and Neema, the mother, insisted that they take me to the market someday, help me buy things and then show me how to cook. She also insisted I keep the kitenge, and said she would take me to her tailor to have it finished and to make a dress. They said the next time we come we will only speak in Kiswahili, knowing that is the only and best way to learn (yikes!). They sent us home with a bag full of eggs from their own chickens. What a night.
And did I ever mention how much I adore the way people say my name? This family emphatically called me “Laura” with a unique roll on the ‘r’. It’s perfect!
18 November 2010
Kituo cha Vijanna
Today was our first day at the youth center where we’ll be spending our next few weeks. I am teaching one period of English to Form 7, or what we might consider eighth graders. We (Sean and I) showed up today at 8am, and we were both expected to start teaching the next period. That was the first time we got our assignments and saw what we were teaching. That was not fun. Thankfully I had a book to follow, so I taught a room full of maybe 30 students, many whose names I cannot remember or pronounce, about subjective and objective pronouns. What? You don’t remember what those are? Yeah, me neither. Thankfully Mr. Daransky from my middle school days really crammed that grammar stuff into me – and I remembered after a major cram session (that’s one valuable thing I learned at college!). So I wrote up a quick (and pathetic) “lesson plan” with scheduled breaks to stretch and breathe in case I got really boring… Thankfully for those kids, I sure did get pretty boring, and I had a nice little relief seeing them smile as I reached for the sky, reached for our toes, and mimicked their dance moves.
One good thing about Tanzanian is that this is an extremely polite society. For example, the way one greets an elder is by saying “shikamoo,” translated literally like, I bow at your feet, or something along those lines. So these students seemed to quiet when prompted and are quick to help when asked. They also think I’m funny, or they are good at pretending that I’m funny, or even more so they are laughing at me – but whatever it is, I truly appreciate the giggles that break up any silence that comes from my inexperience as their English teacher. Oh and how they smile. I adore their smiles. They will stare at me with these stern faces, but if I look them in their eyes and give them a silly grin, they sometimes get bashful but they smile back so brightly.
So I will be teaching one hour and 10 minute long class Monday through Friday for the next few weeks. I’m not especially looking forward to the teaching, but I am hopeful that this will be good practice for when I begin at Peter Claver. I am also hopeful that I can soon learn to read the kids and see how they best learn. (To my teacher friends out there, I need tips. Lots of them!! Also, I always respected you before, but now I worship you. Your job is hard.)
Today was full of firsts because we had our first official Kiswahili lesson with David our tutor and it went so well. I’m starting to feel a little more comfortable using words I know. And I am absolutely sure that having David will speed up my learning. I’m so excited and thankful for him.
Our last first was our first community night with the Jesuits. Every Monday evening we (Sean, Thomas, Jana and I) are invited for Mass, dinner, and fellowship at their residence. I am so in love with these men and looking forward to getting to know them much better these next two years. Mass was said by Fr. Shirima who kind of reminds me of my dear friend Fr. Cozzens, which makes me think of him when I see Fr. Shirima. He speaks so beautifully and something about him just makes you think he’s so wise. Mass was in their little chapel in their home, and we had “kitimoto” for dinner. (Kitimoto is pork, literally translated as fire chair – much of Tanzania is Muslim, a religion and culture in which pork is not eaten, and so the saying goes if you eat it, you have to eat it quickly and run, hence, hot seat). And later we played Uno and drank wine made in Dodoma. It was such a lovely night.
Now it is late and I have to wake early (woof) again for class. Usiku mwema, good night!
Settling in
So my feet are always dirty, I have itchy spots all over which I'm not sure if it is from mosquitoes, the dryness, or maybe a heat rash, and and I've already had my fill of rice and beans - but things are wonderful in Dodoma.
My tutor, David, arrive two days ago. He's originally from Uganda but he's been teaching in Dar for many years. He's a really sweet man. He, Sean, and I went into town the other day and he is very helpful with teaching as we walk along. I like him very much. We had him over for dinner and he made a traditional Ugandan dish and it was so good. Boiled green bananas with onion tomato sauce. It was really easy - I may have to try to make it myself.
I've been drinking so much soda. It just tastes so much better here made from the real sugar cane. I'm starting to worry about my teeth though (and the calories). I'm going to try to lay off. Something I've noticed about weigh here - the more you weigh the better for Tanzanians because that means you are wealthy. Which is totally the reverse in the States where typically being overweight means you have less money, because you cannot afford healthy foods and gym memberships...
This week has been busy with many dinner guests including Sophia from London who is a neighbor, David, and Juma our neighbor. It was really fun. Tonight Juma's mother is having us over for dinner and on Saturday we are hosting Nick and Wendy, an American couple. Most of our friends are friends of Thomas and Jana, our German roommates.
Yesterday a few of us went to Cheshire Home which is a 2 year "school" for special needs children. What an experience. The grounds of this place were beautiful but there were at least 10 special needs children to one teacher (which all my teacher friends know this is way too many), many of the kids did not wear shoes or had torn clothes and were very dirty, there were hardly any toys (the toys they did have were mostly broken), the children roamed aimlessly around the campus because there wasn't enough supervision, and there was no productive organization (a daily event was movie or tv watching). The children were just beautiful though - it was so hard.
I have been pretty healthy here - just today I woke up with a sore throat. Not sure if that is from the dryness or from the kids' slobber from yesterday.
My tutor, David, arrive two days ago. He's originally from Uganda but he's been teaching in Dar for many years. He's a really sweet man. He, Sean, and I went into town the other day and he is very helpful with teaching as we walk along. I like him very much. We had him over for dinner and he made a traditional Ugandan dish and it was so good. Boiled green bananas with onion tomato sauce. It was really easy - I may have to try to make it myself.
I've been drinking so much soda. It just tastes so much better here made from the real sugar cane. I'm starting to worry about my teeth though (and the calories). I'm going to try to lay off. Something I've noticed about weigh here - the more you weigh the better for Tanzanians because that means you are wealthy. Which is totally the reverse in the States where typically being overweight means you have less money, because you cannot afford healthy foods and gym memberships...
This week has been busy with many dinner guests including Sophia from London who is a neighbor, David, and Juma our neighbor. It was really fun. Tonight Juma's mother is having us over for dinner and on Saturday we are hosting Nick and Wendy, an American couple. Most of our friends are friends of Thomas and Jana, our German roommates.
Yesterday a few of us went to Cheshire Home which is a 2 year "school" for special needs children. What an experience. The grounds of this place were beautiful but there were at least 10 special needs children to one teacher (which all my teacher friends know this is way too many), many of the kids did not wear shoes or had torn clothes and were very dirty, there were hardly any toys (the toys they did have were mostly broken), the children roamed aimlessly around the campus because there wasn't enough supervision, and there was no productive organization (a daily event was movie or tv watching). The children were just beautiful though - it was so hard.
I have been pretty healthy here - just today I woke up with a sore throat. Not sure if that is from the dryness or from the kids' slobber from yesterday.
Made it to Dodoma!
After a 8 hour bus ride with no air conditioning, and driving through what looked like the desert, Sean and I finally made it to Dodoma. Marty, our Jesuit "boss," picked us up and drove us to our new home. It is so so nice, especially compared to the volunteer house in Dar Es Salaam. It is an old convent or something, so it is spacious and clean (minus intense amounts of dust - this place is very dusty), and has running water. I feel very very blessed.
After dropping off our stuff, Marty took us to meet the other Jesuits for dinner - we went to a pizza place. Dodoma might not be so bad after all :) But actually, we probably won't frequent places like that considering they are usually pretty pricey, at least for our stipend.
The weather here is perfect. Yes, it is still extremely hot but unlike Dar, it is a very dry heat so any shade makes the temperature drop immensely. The night was actually a bit cool. So again, I feel so blessed to not be in Dar.
I haven't seen too much of Dodoma, but today we took a 4 minute drive to the Jesuit residence where we can use their internet. Marty showed us around. The Jesuits have a pretty big TV, surprisingly - they love to watch "football" (aka, soccer). The church is absolutely beautiful. I can't wait to start attending. We attended Mass in Dar this week and I loved it. The music is outrageaous! SO beautiful and exciting. Unfortunately, there is only Kiswahili Masses, so hopefully I will pick it up soon!
Speaking of language, the school is going to be delayed a little in opening. The construction apparently is still not done (we're visiting the school later today). Marty said that he has one teacher whose contract is to start soon, so instead of teaching at the school, Marty has arranged for him to tutor us! This is fantastic news because most JVs get minimal language training. I am hoping this will be a good opportunity for me to learn a lot and get a good start. I think also in a few days will begin a tutoring session for students going to secondary schools in the area who need extra help with their English. This is what Sean and I will be doing until the school opens.
So the internet is not so good here. Marty says the Jesuits have a limited amount of time alloted for internet each month, but he is allowing us to use it as much as we need for the first few weeks. But after that, we may have to find another arraignment. There are internet cafes in town, so maybe I'll be able to find one of those. So we will all just have to wait and see how this internet thing turns out. But for now, emails will work fine, but Skype calls may take some figuring out.
After dropping off our stuff, Marty took us to meet the other Jesuits for dinner - we went to a pizza place. Dodoma might not be so bad after all :) But actually, we probably won't frequent places like that considering they are usually pretty pricey, at least for our stipend.
The weather here is perfect. Yes, it is still extremely hot but unlike Dar, it is a very dry heat so any shade makes the temperature drop immensely. The night was actually a bit cool. So again, I feel so blessed to not be in Dar.
I haven't seen too much of Dodoma, but today we took a 4 minute drive to the Jesuit residence where we can use their internet. Marty showed us around. The Jesuits have a pretty big TV, surprisingly - they love to watch "football" (aka, soccer). The church is absolutely beautiful. I can't wait to start attending. We attended Mass in Dar this week and I loved it. The music is outrageaous! SO beautiful and exciting. Unfortunately, there is only Kiswahili Masses, so hopefully I will pick it up soon!
Speaking of language, the school is going to be delayed a little in opening. The construction apparently is still not done (we're visiting the school later today). Marty said that he has one teacher whose contract is to start soon, so instead of teaching at the school, Marty has arranged for him to tutor us! This is fantastic news because most JVs get minimal language training. I am hoping this will be a good opportunity for me to learn a lot and get a good start. I think also in a few days will begin a tutoring session for students going to secondary schools in the area who need extra help with their English. This is what Sean and I will be doing until the school opens.
So the internet is not so good here. Marty says the Jesuits have a limited amount of time alloted for internet each month, but he is allowing us to use it as much as we need for the first few weeks. But after that, we may have to find another arraignment. There are internet cafes in town, so maybe I'll be able to find one of those. So we will all just have to wait and see how this internet thing turns out. But for now, emails will work fine, but Skype calls may take some figuring out.
Still in Dar
(Disclaimer: this and the following few posts are copies of emails previously sent to family.)
I am sweating through my "knickers" and my hair is a grease ball (and I have a few bug bites around my ankles! - don't worry, I've been taking my meds), but I am alive and well in Dar. Right now I am in the Jesuit House using their internet. We had a little trouble figuring out how to get through customs last night when we arrived around 11pm (Sean and I each had to pay $100 - Thanks for the extra cash, Dad. I had to spot Sean). (Also, JVC is going to reimburse us.) But Christen, Gretchen, Emily, and a Jesuit named Everest picked us up and drove us home in a truck. All luggage arrived with no problem!
The fights went surprisingly a lot faster than I expected. I didn't sleep the first two, but slept like a rock from Amsterdam to Kilimanjaro. It was night so we didn't see the mountain. But I guess I do have a few years...
Their place is pretty rough.. apparently our house in Dodoma is going to be a lot nicer. I slept on a mattress on the floor last night - didn't need a cover because it was so hot. Sean and I got up around 10:30am (I have no idea what home time is), and Christen came home from school. She bought us some tortilla bread thing (I'm sure I'll know the real term soon) and we ate it with cold black beans and a banana.
Their stove is broken (no oven) so I'm not quite sure what we'll have for dinner. I'm sure they know how to whip something up. Kristen just took us on a tour of her school, Loyola High School, and then we stopped by the Jesuit Residence which is on campus. We met a few Jesuits (one used to be a Dean at John Carroll!), and drank a soda.
Christen had to go back to class so Sean and I are using the Jesuits' computers. Everyone is so nice. The girls are really good at Kiswahili - I can't wait to start picking it up. I keep hearing really great things about Dodoma. It is nice being here but I'm kind of anxious to get there and set up. (The whole "nesting" thing is really important to me - you know, like deciding what drawer my tshirts are going to be.) The plan is to stay in Dar until Sunday - tomorrow (Friday) we might sit in some classes, Saturday we're going to the beach (YES!), and Sunday we'll start our way "home." Apparently the road from Dar to Dodoma is paved, and the bus we'll be taking is pretty nice.
I am sweating through my "knickers" and my hair is a grease ball (and I have a few bug bites around my ankles! - don't worry, I've been taking my meds), but I am alive and well in Dar. Right now I am in the Jesuit House using their internet. We had a little trouble figuring out how to get through customs last night when we arrived around 11pm (Sean and I each had to pay $100 - Thanks for the extra cash, Dad. I had to spot Sean). (Also, JVC is going to reimburse us.) But Christen, Gretchen, Emily, and a Jesuit named Everest picked us up and drove us home in a truck. All luggage arrived with no problem!
The fights went surprisingly a lot faster than I expected. I didn't sleep the first two, but slept like a rock from Amsterdam to Kilimanjaro. It was night so we didn't see the mountain. But I guess I do have a few years...
Their place is pretty rough.. apparently our house in Dodoma is going to be a lot nicer. I slept on a mattress on the floor last night - didn't need a cover because it was so hot. Sean and I got up around 10:30am (I have no idea what home time is), and Christen came home from school. She bought us some tortilla bread thing (I'm sure I'll know the real term soon) and we ate it with cold black beans and a banana.
Their stove is broken (no oven) so I'm not quite sure what we'll have for dinner. I'm sure they know how to whip something up. Kristen just took us on a tour of her school, Loyola High School, and then we stopped by the Jesuit Residence which is on campus. We met a few Jesuits (one used to be a Dean at John Carroll!), and drank a soda.
Christen had to go back to class so Sean and I are using the Jesuits' computers. Everyone is so nice. The girls are really good at Kiswahili - I can't wait to start picking it up. I keep hearing really great things about Dodoma. It is nice being here but I'm kind of anxious to get there and set up. (The whole "nesting" thing is really important to me - you know, like deciding what drawer my tshirts are going to be.) The plan is to stay in Dar until Sunday - tomorrow (Friday) we might sit in some classes, Saturday we're going to the beach (YES!), and Sunday we'll start our way "home." Apparently the road from Dar to Dodoma is paved, and the bus we'll be taking is pretty nice.
Karibu Sana!
Here it is! I have finally found enough internet (and intelligence) to set up this blog to give you all a slice of my new life in Dodoma. But before we dive in, I need to give you a little background info:
It was late January when I decided to apply for the Jesuit Volunteer Corps International Program. After filling out an intense application and attending an interview weekend in DC, I was offered a placement in Dodoma, Tanzania. There is a new Jesuit boarding secondary school, St. Peter Claver, to open in January 2011, and myself and one other volunteer will be two of the first teachers at this school.
So after leaving from John Carroll University in May, I spent the summer at home – catching up on some much needed sleep, getting out some of my built up creative juices (I’m sure only my family truly understands what this means), visiting friends and family, and helping my sister squeeze in a wedding three days before my departure. It was an amazing wedding. And it was a beautiful end to my wonderful summer. (So happy for Carrie and Dan!)
Because no other JVs have been in Dodoma prior to our placement there, I (somewhat) blindly packed my bags in late October for my two year safari (Kiswahili for journey). Novemeber 2, I stood at my ticket counter weighing my bags and sure enough, so many of my wonderful family showed up to say goodbye! It was an intense (a few minor flight problems) but really, really nice farewell.
From Pittsburgh I flew to Detroit where I had my last meal of sushi (yuuummm), and took an 8 hour flight to Amsterdam where I met Sean, my new JV Dodoma housemate, for our 12(ish) hour flight to Dar Es Salaam. We arrived around 11:30pm (Tanzania time) on Wednesday, and the Dar JVs took us to their home.
We spent the next the next few days with them, visiting their schools and watching them teach, hearing them speak Kiswahili really well, meeting the Dar Jesuits, and spending our last day at the beach. The Indian Ocean is beautiful and it was such a nice, relaxing day. To be honest though, Dar was much too hot and humid for me. I spent some time at the beach in the shade.
Sunday we went to Mass in the morning (beautiful, beautiful singing), and then got on the bus for an 8 hr trip to Dodoma. Marty, the Jesuit who is our mentor and the headmaster at the school, met us and took us to a pizza dinner to meet the Dodoma Jesuits, the Provincial of East Africa, and our new roommates. It was a great first meal. (I know, pizza in Africa? What?)
Because Sean and I are a community of two right now (usually there are 2 first years and 2 second years), we will be living with two volunteers from Germany, Jana and Thomas. They are both wonderful and I am enjoying getting to know them very much.
(I am now realizing this is a much longer introduction than I had planned…)
I am writing this on day 6 of my time in Dodoma. This week was full of many visits to meet people, trips around town to see the primary school, the new school where I’ll be working, the marketplace…etc. St. Peter Claver (the high school where I will teach) is still under construction, but it is a marvelous looking school, and I am very much looking forward to being a part of its first year.
Because of the construction, however, the school will have a two week delay in opening, with a mid-January starting date. So for the time being Sean and I will be helping with remedial English classes at the local youth center for students soon going (or hopefully going) to secondary school in the next semester. All secondary schools in Tanzania are English-only, so it is very important to have a good start on these skills.
My hope is to update this often, but that will depend on my schedule and my access to the internet (there is access, but it is a little difficult to use).
But when I cannot update, I love love love receiving emails: (laura.grace.heid@gmail.com). Also, I can receive snail mail: c/o Jesuit Fathers, PO Box 1079 Dodoma Tanzania (apparently big envelops are better than boxes, as well as things less than 4 lbs, and please don’t claim it to be more than $10 because I will then have to pay money to claim it!).
Wishing you all well, and I’m so glad you are interested in sharing this new chapter of my life with me! All my love and more.
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