Confirmation Day

Confirmation is an important event in the Lutheran Church.  It is when, after a period of study, a person (usually a child of about 12 or 13) confirms publicly that he or she really does believe the doctrines of the church, and is accepted into full membership.  There is a Lutheran church next to our school, and we know two people whose children were confirmed a couple of weeks ago.  We were invited to the event and the family festivities that followed it.

Now, I already knew that this is a large congregation, but I was surprised at the number of children being confirmed--there were at least 60!  This is a thriving faith community.

The service lasted about 3 hours, as it was combined with the regular Sunday service.  It was full of singing, as well as the standard liturgy.  Of course, it was all in Swahili, but we've acquired a hymnal in that language, so we could follow along to a degree, although we did not totally understand what was being said.

We had offered to take photos of the event for one of our friends whose child was being confirmed, and we were also invited to the party at their home.  The party location was not far, but up the mountain, so the family rented a dala-dala to take us all there.  More party-goers joined us later.  The family is Maasai, and their clothing varied from traditional shukas (robes) to Western styles.

The party was held outdoors in a tent set up for the purpose, with rented plastic chairs.  After a good meal there was a lull, and I was beginning to wonder if we should leave.  Then, we were told that a cake would soon be brought out.  The cake would be cut, and then gifts would be presented to the confirmand.  Camera at the ready, we watched the procession bringing the cake.  It was uncovered, and we saw that it was...a goat!  A whole, roasted goat, complete with hide, horns, and leaves hanging out of its mouth!  The confirmand, with the help of an aunt, sliced pieces from the side of the "cake", and fed them to the guests.  Mark ate a piece and said it was good.  I declined.

 

Presentation of gifts was an elaborate ceremony.  Guests started a chant (in Kiswahili) that called up family members one by one: "This one is Mama, this one", "This one is Auntie, this one", etc. and that person would walk, or sometimes dance, to the child and hand the gift to him.  Some dropped money into a box covered by a shawl instead.  A large gift was presented with great pomp, carried in atop the head of one of the aunties.

Another cake was brought out--this time a standard pastry--and after it was consumed, the party broke up.  We walked back down the mountain with a group of other guests and managed to get home just before dark.  The day's events had started at 10 am, and lasted until 6 pm.  Longer than we had expected, but we were glad we were there to participate.

Camping Safari

This week we went on a 3 day/2 night camping safari.  Mark and I and our friend Doug left with the driver/guide and cook in a big 4-wheel drive Land Cruiser with a pop-up roof.   

Let me say that I have never especially liked camping.  It has always seemed like a lot of work and inconvenience in order to spend time outdoors.  However, in a camping safari, the tour operator does all the work and suffers most of the inconvenience.  Our trip was highly enjoyable.

The first day out, we drove to the Engaruka ruins.  This is a settlement in the Rift Valley that was occupied between about 1500 and 1700 C.E.  We saw gravesites, the thick rock walls of sizable dwellings, and an irrigation system that resembles modern permagardening systems.  Although that settlement was abandoned, Maasai villages are in the area now, and the tribespeople are protective of the site.

Proceeding on, we stopped for the night at a posh campsite in Karatu, Kudu Camp.  By posh, I mean that it had an internet cafe, swimming pool, pub, gift shop, and more.  Our driver set up the tents and our cook prepared a wonderful meal.

The next morning we drove into the Ngorongoro Conservation Area.  We saw baboons along the road, including a family group with a tiny baby clutching its mother.  Our cook was dropped off at Simba A Camp, where he set things up and starting preparing another feast.  We then went to the Oldupai Gorge, where Mary Leakey's team made 60 different finds of ancient hominid remains, including a skull of Australopithecus boisei, who lived 1.8 million years ago and remains of Homo Hablis and Homo Erectus.  Her team also found 3.75 million year old footprints of Australopithecus afarensis nearby.  This is the same species as the individual whose bones were found in Ethiopia and named "Lucy".  These remains were preserved at Oldupai due to repeated volcanic activity that sandwiched them between layers of lava flows.  Rifting and erosion enabled them to be found in the 20th century.  Fascinating stuff.

We returned to the camp, which is situated on the rim of the Ngorongoro Crater.  The view was breathtaking.  By that point in the early evening, quite a few other campers had arrived.  Most were brought there by tour companies, but a few had their own cars.  I was grateful for our guide and cook, not only because of the afore-mentioned work and inconvenience of a do-it-yourself camping experience, but also because they were very good at their jobs.  We settled in for the night, under the visible Milky Way.  It was about 2:30 am when we were awakened by cries of "Help! Help!" from nearby.  A cape buffalo had wandered through the camp and had repeatedly bumped a tent.  Our guide told us that he was the one who scooped up a handful of rocks and threw them at the animal, who then strolled out of the campsite.    

The next morning, the Land Cruiser was loaded up and we drove down into the crater.  This was the highlight of the safari.  The crater is about 20 km wide and holds thousands of animals.  Most of them can and do migrate in and out, but the crater has food and water and is a comfortable place for them to live.  Our guide was expert at spotting animals that we wouldn't have noticed on our own.  He and the other guides also share information on where exciting things might be seen.  Like the lions sleeping in a clump of tall grass right next to the road.  Or the cheetah surveying the landscape from a small rise on the plain.  We saw elephants (one about 30 feet away), warthogs, hippos, ostriches, gazelles, cape buffalo, zebras, wildebeest, and much more.  We took lots of pictures.  We are grateful to Doug for sharing the photos from his camera, which has a longer zoom than ours.

After lunch we proceeded home, tired from this amazing experience and from bumping along dirt roads, but extremely happy that we had this opportunity.

Mount Kili and Tingatinga

Last weekend, we spent a day and a half in the town of Moshi, which is at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro.  The mountain is the tallest in Africa, at around 19,000 feet, and its peak is usually hidden by clouds.  The days we were there, though, the sky was clear and the view was spectacular.  This is actually a bad thing.  The clouds shade the snow at the peak and protect it from melting too much.  The slow snow melt and other precipitation provides water to the area.  I have been told that there are fewer clouds now than in the past because of deforestation and climate change, resulting in less snow on the mountain than at the same time of year 50, 40, or even 20 years ago.

 

Gloomy thoughts aside, we enjoy Moshi.  It is a walkable  size, is less intense than Arusha,  and has several restaurants that appeal to Westerners.  This time of year, the poinciana trees are in lush bloom, covered with red-orange flowers.  The town also has a small concentration of artists, and we wanted to spend extra time this trip to explore what they had to offer.

We started by going to a shop we had seen back in August, when we were too overloaded with baggage to consider a single extra purchase.  This time, we hoped to pick up something  to brighten the walls of our little house.  Tanzania is famous for Tingatinga-style paintings, which are cheerful, primitive, and very appealing.  We went to the shop we had remembered and found that it and its neighbors have formed an association of artists.  There are 4 or 5 shops in a row, and the artists themselves work in the same building complex behind the storefronts.  We spoke to them, and ended up buying several pieces of art.  We are delighted with our purchases, and I'm sure the artists are delighted we stopped by.       

The Day We Saw the President

Friday morning, our headmistress called to me as I stepped into the office at school.  It seems that the president of Tanzania would be coming to a nearby event Saturday, and that our headmistress would be able to attend and bring along about 15 people.  She asked if Mark and I would like to go.  Absolutely!

So, at 7:30 the next morning in a light drizzle, we presented ourselves at her office, along with a few other teachers and several students.  A nearby private school had received the same invitation, so we were able to ride to the event with them in their small bus.  The bus was allowed only to the entrance of the gravel road leading to where the event was to be held, so we went the rest of the way on foot.  As we walked, the rain began to come down harder.

Arriving at the spot, we saw that two tents for spectators and one for officials had been set up.  There were many other attendees, but our headmistress was able to snag seats at one side of a tent for me, Mark, and herself.  I handed my umbrella to another teacher, and sat down to wait.

The wind started blowing, so that we were getting wet even under the tent.  The organizers of the event were kept busy applying a squeegee to the red carpet and rearranging chairs in the officials' tent.  At one point, we were shooed out of our seats so that bomb-detection dogs could patrol the area, but we were allowed to resume our seats shortly.  We were surrounded by military troops, but there were no metal detectors or other searches for weapons.  

Finally, the rain was so persistent that we were told to take our chairs and move to the auditorium of a nearby building.  (And, why we weren't there from the beginning, I do NOT know!)  By then, the grounds were mucky and difficult to walk through.  One of our students took my chair and led me in the right direction.  I became separated from Mark and our headmistress, and soon the mud started sucking at my feet.  I was wearing flats, and my foot came out of one, which rapidly filled with muddy water.  I lost my balance, and put my hands on the ground to keep from toppling over completely.  I rescued my shoe, and ended up walking to a bit of pavement barefoot. I put my shoes back on for protection, but by now they both had more mud inside than out.  I found a gravel path to the building, and was met there by the student, who showed me to a chair and offered to get water to wash my hands.

Feeling a little better, I sat down to wait again.  I learned later that the rain began to let up at that point.  The president was due at 9:30, but did not arrive until over an hour later.  A group of Maasai women in elaborate jewelry greeted him with a song.  He gave a nice speech about education, health care, and roads, as far as I can tell--it was entirely in Swahili. 

Afterwards, we walked back to the paved road and the bus in the rain, which again was falling heavily. By now we were thoroughly drenched.  At home, I washed my feet and my shoes in a bucket of water.  I am still waiting for them to dry.  (The shoes, not my feet).  In spite of the chilly rain and mud, I would not have missed this experience.  Seize the day!

 

Rain

It seems that the rainy season has started.  Since we arrived in this country in June, it has been dry, dry, dry.  The area where we are posted is especially arid, and keeping a thick layer of dust from accumulating inside the house has been a continual challenge.

Now, though, the short rainy season is here.  (There are two--one in November and December, the other from March through May).  We've had occasional rain during the last week or so, but two days ago there was a real thunder-boomer Florida-summer-like rain in the afternoon, and our shoes were caked with mud after walking across campus.

That's because all of the paths are dirt, the campus quad is dirt, and the side roads are dirt.  Thus, the dust during the rest of the year.

So, last night it started to rain in earnest--hard, steady, and continuous.  I do believe it rained all night, and it is still raining this morning.  But, strangely, no water is coming from the tap in our house.  This does happen frequently, and then usually the school handyman adjusts valves and such and it comes back on.  But I am told that water supply interruptions happen more often in the rainy season because pipes break.  Poor infrastructure. 

(Yes, yes, I know I should be grateful that I have water piped to my house at all while serving here, and I am.  Many of our friends have to fetch water from elsewhere.  The Peace Corps is kind to older volunteers.)

(And, I am especially grateful that our little house has a good roof.  We have not seen any leaks.)

But we are prepared.  We have five 5-gallon buckets of water stored in our pantry, and another couple of gallons of already-boiled drinking  water, as well.  We were told from the beginning of our service that we would need to be patient and flexible.  It's the patient part that gives me trouble.

Form IV National Exams

Form IV students are sitting for the National Exams, which take about two weeks to administer.  About 1/3 of our teachers are involved in proctoring the exams at other schools.  As a result, I have gone from teaching math to 3  Form I classes to teaching all 5 of them, just so they don't lose out in these two weeks.  Mark is busy, too.  But, with so many teachers absent, quite a few of the lower level classrooms have no teachers.  There is no other organized activity for these students, they just sit and (supposedly) study.

Tanzania takes these exams very seriously. They determine if, how, and where students will be able to advance in education.  They have much more impact than the SAT does in the States.  Each subject exam is 3 hours long, and the sciences include both a theory test and a "practicals" or labwork  exam.  It's so competitive that teachers are not allowed to proctor in their own schools, to prevent cheating and favoritism. After each exam is finished, the papers are collected from each student and locked in the school safe.  ALSO, we have police guards at the school, armed with rifles, to monitor the handling of the exams and ensure against leakage of the questions.

The Form IV students graduated two weeks ago, so after the exams they turn in any equipment they have borrowed or been issued--such as their desks and chairs--and are cleared to go home.  Exam results will come out in March.  Then, they will know if they can go to Form V (similar to community college), go to a vocational school, or just try to get some sort of job. Like in the rest of the world, good jobs are hard to come by without education.

Being foreign in a small Tanzanian town

We live in a small town.  Larger than a tiny village, but small enough that the residents don't see many white people, up close.  There are several Americans who teach at a school a few kilometers outside of town, and then there are me and Mark.  So, white people are objects of attention, curiosity, and sometimes misconception.  Mark and I try to take it with good humor.

I teach math to Form I students, who average about 14 years old.  A few days ago, I gave a set of problems to one of my classes, and went around the room giving advice and encouragement.   I stopped at a girl's desk and was pointing to her work with one hand while resting the other on the paper.  Then, hesitantly, she and two of the neighboring students started touching my fingers and fingernails.  I said, "My skin is just like yours, only a different color."  Then, "My nails are just like yours, only longer."  The reply was, "They're so white!"    I've also had my hair stroked a few times.  I don't generally mind.  They are learning about the world.

Another incident happened a few weeks ago.  Mark and I decided to take the long dala-dala trip into Arusha.  We met another teacher as we walked to the bus stop, and sat with her in the rear of the bus as we rode.  She is a lovely, educated woman in her 30s who speaks excellent English.  On one of the many stops along the way, 3 young Caucasian men with short brown hair boarded the bus and sat near the front.  They were speaking English, and from what I could hear of their conversation, they sounded Australian.  Our friend considered them for a few moments, then turned to me and said, "I think they're Chinese."  "Um, nooo...," I replied gently.  "Chinese people have black hair."

In our peaceful small town, a difference in skin or hair color is a source of curiosity and a good conversation topic.

Graduation festivities

The school year here in Tanzania starts in January and the graduation ceremony for our school's fourth year students was held this weekend.  It was an interesting, and in some ways impressive, event.

Planning did not start until a week before it took place.  The teachers were assigned to committees, and Mark and I were put on the Decoration Committee.  Our committee  decided that the school should rent tents to shield students and guests from the sun, as the event was held outdoors. 

Well, we didn't learn until the day before graduation that the supplier did not have any tents available.  All of them had been previously reserved. So, we obtained several very large tarps, and advanced level students were sent to cut down small trees on campus to serve as tent poles.   I know not to air my opinions about such activities, but they were echoed by a chemistry teacher who grumbled to me about it.  In any event, the advanced level students made the poles, attached the tarps to each other with twine, and erected the tents.  Meanwhile, the first year students brought hundreds of chairs out of classrooms and set them up in the quad under our direction.  Finally, students sprinkled water on the ground to dampen down the dust.  (It's the dry season here, and dust swirls with every breeze).

Graduation was scheduled to start at 11:00 am, according to the official schedule.  Mark and I had not really experienced "Tanzanian time" yet, but we certainly did that day.  At 11:00, decorations were finished, the sound system was set up, and we were ready to go---except no parents were there yet, and students were still milling around.  We finally started about 12:30.  Spectators continued to drift in for another 2 hours.

Tanzanian graduations are very similar to those in the States, but they differ in that they include student-generated entertainment.  Ours had a hip-hop performance, Boy Scouts doing a marching routine,  two contemporary dance groups, a group of Maasai students performing a traditional dance, and a half-hour long drama about a good student who was led astray by wild friends and ended up pregnant.   

The Maasai performance impressed me the most.  The Maasai slowly proceeded to the front of the audience, uttering a few high-pitched cries that at first sounded to me like flutes or whistles.  They were wearing traditional robes in red and blue, and all of them were covered in beaded necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and multiple earrings.  The girls additionally wore stiff, platter-sized necklaces that flapped fetchingly when they shrugged their shoulders, and the boys carried long sticks. The performers made a circle and started bouncing on their toes and heels.  The boys (young men, really) began a low, guttural chant.  The young women moved alternately to approach various of the young men, who were then stimulated to execute high vertical jumps and piercing yells.  After a couple of rounds of this, they proceeded off the way they had come.  Altogether impressive.  I'm sad to say that the other students seemed bored, and chatted to their friends during this performance.   I suppose there was no novelty in it for them.  

After speeches and awards, the graduation certificates were efficiently given to each graduate, and the ceremony broke up without ado.  It was 4:00 pm, and the teachers and invited guests adjourned to our long-awaited luncheon.   The feast was laid out with multiple dishes:  chicken, beef in a flavorful sauce, rice, pilau (a seasoned rice with chunks of beef), cabbage salad, roasted bananas, potatoes, fresh bananas, and watermelon.  There were no utensils provided, and everyone ate with their fingers, in the traditional way.  Water is provided for hand washing beforehand--and afterwards, if needed.

We helped supervise cleanup, too.  It went faster than set up, but it was still nearly 6:00 when we finished.  All in all, it was a long, exhausting, but fascinating day, and we are glad to have experienced it.

Headmistress

So far, I like and respect our school's headmistress.  She speaks slowly and clearly (a big help to us, when she is speaking Swahili!) and with authority.  She is tactful, but she is firm about the proper way to run the school and relate to the community. She moves with dignified decision, but has a good-natured twinkle in her eyes. 

Our headmistress is in her early 50s, tall, and solidly built. She usually dresses as a conservative high school principal in the States would--suits or jacket dresses.  But at the graduation ceremony this weekend, she dressed in an African style, and she looked spectacular!  

Tanzanian dresses are usually closely-fitted to the body down to the knee, and then they flare out.  Her dress at graduation was more of a caftan or tunic worn over a full-length sheath.  It was patterned in black and gold, and had piping around a long, square yoke.  She wore a matching turban-like headscarf, wrapped elaborately.  With my limited vocabulary, all I could think to say when I saw her was "Umependeza sana!"  (You are very pretty!)

Start of school

The school term has officially been open now for 2 weeks.  Which is not to say that we have been teaching all that time.  Not many students showed up for the first day of school, and those that did were set to work cleaning the school.  There is no regular maintenance staff for cleaning (although there are a couple of repairmen), and it is the responsibility of students to clean classrooms and school grounds.  This is typical among African public schools. 

One other reason students start the school term late (besides missing out on major cleaning duties) is that they have to pay school fees, even at the public schools.  Government funding is not enough to run the schools without "contributions" from students.  Even though the word sounds like it would be a voluntary payment, the students are not allowed in the classroom until fees are paid.  The school fee amounts to about $13 USD per term.  That may sound trivial, but most families have very small incomes.  Public school teachers, for example, earn about $200 per month.  I shudder to think what farmers, cattle herders, and market venders earn.    

Anyway, by the second week things were up and running with regular classes and almost full classrooms.  I am teaching first year math at our secondary school.  This school is unusual in that the first year students are divided into classes of 40 to 45 students, so as not to "discourage" them (our headmistress' word).  It is more typical that classes have 70 or 80 students, and some of the upper level classes here do, too.

My students have varying abilities in math and in comprehension of English.  In Tanzania, primary school is taught in Swahili, but secondary school is taught in English.  They take English in primary school, but it is only one of their subjects, and hearing the entire curriculum in the language comes as something of a shock.  My students aren't totally clueless by now, though, as the school year started in January, and this is just the start of the fall term.

One thing students especially lack is school books.  Schools do not provide textbooks like they do in the States.  If students want one, their parents have to buy them in a book store.  In each of my classes, perhaps 4 or 5 students have a math book.  Most of them are not the newest text, but rather 2 or 3 editions old.  Fortunately, math doesn't change much.  However, the situation means that it is impossible to assign reading or exercises from the textbook--there isn't one to which the students have access.  So, everything--definitions, examples, problems, and so on--must be written on the chalkboard.  The students have to copy it all in their notebooks, which become their own, home-made texts.   They do the best they can.  I am giving a test next week, so then I will see how well they study from their notes.  

A couple of surprising things

Just wanted to briefly mention a couple of recent experiences that made us think, "Now, this is really odd."

·       At a recommended "authentic" Chinese restaurant in Arusha, Tanzania, we listened to country singer Don Williams over the restaurant's sound system as we ate.   

·       We went to an outdoor market in a Maasai village about 10km up a dirt road into the mountains above our small town.  The village looked very poor to us--tiny mud huts without doors, and lots of dust.  We appeared to be the only non-Maasai there, and were almost the only people in Western clothes.  The market had the usual produce and cloth, but ALSO a kiosk selling cell phones that was crowded with buyers!   

One thing we've noticed is that Tanzania seems to have skipped a layer or two of technology.  For example, I haven't seen a single land line phone in the 3 months we've lived here, but many, many people have cell phones.  Typewriters are very rare.  Most things are generally written by hand, but some are typed and printed from a computer.    

I guess my conclusions are that globalization is here, and that the rate of technology change is fast, but uneven.  Not startling revelations, but made more meaningful to us lately.

Transporting stuff

Tanzanians have all different ways of transporting cargo.  Cars, trucks, and motor cycles exist, yes, but fewer of them per capita than in the U.S.  Here are a few other modes:

Bicycles.  People use them to tote all sorts of things.  A load of sugar cane, balanced so that 3 feet or so sticks out on either side behind the rider.  A cubic yard of animal fodder.  Several jerry-cans of water or oil.

Donkeys.  Often used to carry burlap bags of produce to market.

Heads.  This is really impressive. It's almost always the women who carry things this way.  They typically have a cloth tied around their heads, twisted in such a way to provide padding and a level surface.  I have seen a woman hoist a 5 gallon bucket of water (that's 40 pounds, folks!) atop her head and walk off with it.  In the small towns and villages it is common to see women carrying large sacks of potatoes or onions this way.  Sometimes a woman will carry a small suitcase on her head on the way to the bus station. 

Backs.  It is less common to see women carrying cargo on their backs, but babies are always there, wrapped tightly in a sling.  Sometimes a woman will have a baby on her back and a sack of produce on her head. 

Finally, 2-wheeled wooden carts.  These are built of heavy wood.  They have an axle with large rubber tires, and a front extension with a bar running the width of the cart.  When I first saw them, I thought they were donkey- or ox-carts, but these are always pulled by a man.  They are loaded with all kinds of heavy cargo:  loads of lumber, several large sacks of who-knows-what, and sometimes another man to steady the load.  The muscle-power it takes to pull one of these, especially uphill, must be huge.  We see the carts moving along the streets all over the country, in big cities as well as in rural areas.  Drivers seem to respect them and steer around them as they would another vehicle.  (Actually, they are great for running interference with traffic when we are crossing the streets in Arusha, which doesn't have any stoplights, as far as I've seen, and certainly no pedestrian "Walk" signals).       

All of this makes me feel puny, but grateful that my life has not been that hard.

 

Mostly about food...

 When we first saw our house here, two
weeks before we moved in, the kitchen was absolutely bare---no
furniture or appliances, only a concrete floor and a few shelves
attached to the wall. Our school then had a sink installed and gave
us a two-burner gas cooker, a table to set it on, and a tank of
propane. They also gave us a starter kitchen set: two plastic
plates, two spoons, two aluminum pots, a wooden spoon, two mugs, and
several buckets filled with water. Such riches! (And, I am not being
sarcastic).

Yesterday, we decided to splurge and buy half a kilo of ground beef,
which we ate with spaghetti sauce for lunch and dinner. It's a
splurge because it is hard to have perishables on hand without
refrigeration.  Our small town's general store offers frozen ground beef,
stew meat, and whole chickens. There are one or two butchers in town,
but I haven't been brave enough to shop in them. They have slabs of
meat hung in the open from hooks in the ceiling, exposed to flies and
everything else.

The cookbook the Peace Corps gave us gives detailed instructions on
how to kill, pluck, and butcher a chicken. I haven't been brave
enough to do that, either, and I think I would rather live on peanut
butter than do so.

Actually, we do eat a lot of peanut butter. Peanuts are grown in
abundance here. We also eat rice, beans, eggs, fruit, and vegetables.
We shop at the produce market almost every day, and so most of what
we eat is absolutely fresh. It is also cheap. Processed and imported
foods are of course expensive. We bought a small can of tuna in
Arusha last week that cost 3300 shillingi--a little over $2. That's
about third of the daily living allowance the Peace Corps provides
each volunteer. We're saving the tuna for a special occasion.

Market Day

Sunday is the big market day in our small town.  We went early, to see the sights and to buy some things for our house.  The weekly market is held in a large open area that looked to me to be about 4 acres in size.  Entering the area, we passed a small herd of patient tethered donkeys.  They carried the goods in, and will carry the unsold items back home when the day ends.   

At one end were the produce sellers, women dressed in colorful kangas and head wraps, who displayed their wares spread on tarps on the ground:  potatoes, onions, garlic, ginger, carrots, cabbage, tomatoes, and more.  We greeted Vicky, a vender whom we had met the day before at the regular city market.  Sellers of beans and grains are in another area.  I bought what was probably about a kilo of red beans for the equivalent of about 65 cents.  The vender didn't have a scale, but scooped my purchase from a large pile with a can the size of a coffee can.  Later today we sat on our porch and sorted them, removing the sticks, rocks, and nasty shriveled beans.  What have remaining will make several meals for the two of us.   

Other vendors sold household goods, spices, clothing, shoes, and Masai "mashuka", or blankets.  This is a Masai area, and they are a stately and colorful people, very interesting to our Western eyes.  They wrap plaid blankets of red or blue around their shoulders and let them hang to below knee level.  They generally carry long walking sticks which double as cattle prods when they are out on the range, and often have foot-long knives hanging from their belts.  I have seen some of the men with earlobes pierced with holes the size of a nickel, wearing elaborate earrings.

But we are always aware that we are the strange-looking people here.  In the three days we have been in this town, we have only seen one other white person, glimpsed briefly at the market.  We are a source of interest and amusement to the populace.  They often smile and laugh when we speak Swahili to them--I haven't decided if it is in surprise and delight, or if it is because our accents and grammar are just dreadful.

Travel

Most Tanzanians take a bus when they travel, especially between cities.  There are different kinds, and the best choice depends on distance and cost.

Dala-dalas are vans that are used primarily for short distances, often within cities.  There is a saying here, "There's always room for one more in a dala-dala."  They are usually crammed full, to the point of discomfort.  When the seats are full, people stand, cheek to cheek, so to speak.  The conductor often hangs out the sliding door of the van as it moves down the road, so that he can spot even more potential passengers waiting for a ride.  They are cheap, though.  The standard fare within Morogoro is 300 shillingi, about 20 cents.

Coasters are small buses.  They are often somewhat overcrowded, but not to the same extent as dala-dalas.  They can travel between cities, but aren't the travel mode of choice for really long trips.

Full-size express buses come in come in a number of grades of quality.  "Luxury" is far better than "semi-luxury" in terms of comfort and roominess.  They also make fewer stops to pick up passengers.  They may cost a few shillingi more, but I think they are worth it, for those who can afford the expense.

What coasters and buses have in common is that they are surrounded by venders whenever they stop, even for a few moments.  At the bus stations, people carry trays of items in strange assortment:  sunglasses, socks, nail clippers, and chewing gum may be on display from one vendor, while another may have wallets, jewelry, and lollypops. When riders are sitting on the bus, people appear at the windows, hawking their wares.  I find that it's best not to even look at them, or they will continue to insist for several minutes that I really do need something from the tray. 

When the bus is on the road, the vendors are usually of a different sort.  At any stop, road construction, or police checkpoint, young men run up to the bus holding such things as bags of oranges, loaves of bread, roasted corn on the cob, or grilled meat on a stick.  There are also people with the ubiquitous trays offering sodas, water, candy, dry and tasteless baked goods, or bags of nuts.    Sometimes, and this surprised me, the tray people are allowed on the bus, and walk up and down the aisles, offering their snacks.  If the bus starts up before they get off, they simply ride to the next stop, where they (presumably) get off and catch another bus back to where they started.  I think the bus driver must get a percentage of all of this commerce.

The most unusual offering I observed in my recent travels was when a man thrust a live chicken, held by the feet, in the door of the coaster I was on.  I guess he thought one of us might want a chicken dinner that night.  Much to my relief, he got no takers on my bus.

Site visit

Last week, the Peace Corps trainees were sent out into the field on "site visits".  Mark and I spent a few days shadowing a volunteer whose site is on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro.  We stayed in her house and shadowed her as she interacted with the community and taught at her school.  Her site is 2+ hours from the city of Moshi, and up a winding road on the mountain.  She doesn't have electricity, but uses solar lamps, flashlights, and a kerosene cooker.  She lives surrounded by lush vegetation--banana and avocado trees, and coffee plantations.

After a few days, our hostess escorted us to the city of Arusha, where we met the headmistress of our own school.  (Yes, we've received our assignments!)    She greeted us warmly and took us to our school in a small town near Arusha.  The school is large, with many boarding students.  We will be living in a two bedroom house on the campus--a mixed blessing.  It's a safe and convenient location, but we will be surrounded by students ALL THE TIME.  Nevertheless, it has electricity (when the power is on) and water (which wasn't on when we were there) and an inside bathroom.  The kitchen is currently bare, but our headmistress told us she will have a sink and gas cooker installed, and provide us with a tank of propane.  A carpenter is making furniture for us, and we are thinking of buying a fridge.  So, we will be living in relative luxury!      

 Now, we go back to training for several days.  We will be "sworn in" as official Peace Corps Volunteers on August 15th, and then go to our sites for the next 2 years.  I'm glad we got a good one!

A few words about water

It's the dry season now, and there is a water shortage in Morogoro.  The authorities have taken to rationing by supplying only certain areas of the metro area with water at any one time.  The water went off in our homestay house late Sunday morning, and was off for 36 hours.  It went on for 12, and then went off for 3 days.  Our family is used to this, and prepare for it.  They, have a 1000 liter water storage tank in the yard and many buckets in the house.  When the supply is interrupted, they use the reserve.  It's a large family, though, and they run a catering business out of their home, so it's a little worrisome when the water stays off for very long.  This time, the big storage tank was emptied after 2 1/2 days, and they made do by obtaining extra water from another source.  The water went on again this morning, and we all ran around filling up every container we have.  Mama says that she is thinking of buying a 5000 liter tank, so they aren't caught completely without water.  The dry season doesn't end until at least November, and sometimes not until January.

Teaching Internship

We have started our teaching internships at a local school.  I will be teaching English to Form I students--equivalent to high school freshmen.  It is a different experience from teaching in the U.S. in several significant ways.

The first difference strikes a teacher the moment he or she walks into the room.  The students all rise and say, "Good Morning, Teacher!" in unison.  The teacher responds, "Good Morning.  How are you today?"  The response is "We are fine, Teacher."  The teacher then says, "I am fine, too.  You may be seated."  The students do not behave perfectly, of course.  In many ways they are just like young teenagers the world over, but they do seem to have more respect for teachers and adults in general than students in the U.S.

The school itself is only 4 years old, but the classrooms we teach in have dirt floors.  The windows do not have glass or screens and there are no doors in most doorways.  The roof of the building is tin, and the rooms are open to the rafters.  It's the dry season, now, but I'll bet that the noise is deafening when it rains. There is a large chalkboard in each classroom that covers one wall.  The students' desks are wooden, with attached benches.  The class I teach has about 55 students, but the two other Form I classes have 80.  There are apparently only 10 Form I English textbooks in the school, so the teachers have to write everything--including reading assignments--on the board.  There is one permanent English teacher at the school, so he is more than happy to get Peace Corps trainees or student teachers from local universities to help out for a few weeks.

This is a government-funded school in what could be called a suburban area of a mid-sized city.  Mark and I will most likely be placed in a school in a rural village.  The country does not have nearly enough government resources to fund its growing education needs, and that is part of why we are here.   

Me in my kanga

Safari!

Actually...a mini-safari.  Our training class had a break weekend, and went out to Mikumi National Park.  We pooled our shilingi and rented 2 buses to take us there and drive us around.  We stayed at the Genesis Hotel (nice, includes breakfast, but has no hot water) outside the park.

Giraffes, gazelles, warthogs, zebra, elephants, baboons, and hippos (very cute, the way they shake their ears after surfacing from under water).  Sadly, no lions.  I'm sure they were there, but they aren't active in the afternoons.

This week will be busy and stressful.  We have our Swahili mid-terms (oral and written) and start our teaching internships at local Tanzanian schools.

Some differences...

Grass:   There isn't any, to speak of, in residential yards.  The only "lawn" I have seen is on the grounds of a restaurant frequented  by white people.  Grass lawns 1) are expensive, and 2) harbor pests, like snakes.

Mosquito nets:  We sleep under a mosquito net, as malaria is widespread here in Tanzania.  What I didn't realize is that the nets should not just drape gracefully over the edges of the mattress, but must be tucked in under it on all 4 sides.  This makes it more challenging to get in and out.  Now I know what "fighting your way out of a mosquito net" really means.

Toilet paper:  The Peace Corps supplies us with housing and most of our meals.  They also give us a spending money stipend during training of 7000 Tanzanian shillings per person, per day, for other meals, toiletries, and general spending money.  Toilet paper costs 1000 shillings per roll.

Animals:  They have to earn their keep in a poor country.  Dogs and cats are not pets.  Our homestay family has a couple of dogs who patrol the courtyard at night and are kenneled during the day.  Occasionally people will have cats to keep the rodents in check  This household does not own a cat, for which I am grateful, as I am allergic.  However, I can see their value, as I suspect a mouse has visited our room, at least once. 

Homestay

After the first introductory week, each Peace Corps Trainee (or Trainee couple) lives with a family in the area of the training center.  This is to provide them with an immersion experience in the language and culture of the country.  Mark and I are staying with a family who has a catering business, so we are eating very well!  Ours is a middle-class family with electricity and running water--when there are no power or water supply interruptions, as there have been a number of times during the week we have been here.  Hot water is provided by means of an immersion heater in a bucket, and we can scoop the desired amount into another bucket, mix it with cold running water, and use it to bathe.  Trust me, this is luxury living, compared to what conditions will be like in the areas we will likely be posted.

Our host family's home is in a walled compound that contains the working part of the catering business--a covered area with 5 wood burning BBQ grills, and an open area and verandah where rice cleaning and vegetable chopping are done.  The property also has 2 cows (fresh milk and yogurt!) as well as papaya, tangerine, lemon, mango, and avocado trees.

We walk about a mile to the training center over dirt roads and paths, greeting and being greeted by neighbors along the way.  We are grateful for the exercise and for the friendliness of the people.  The training center itself has a beautiful backdrop of mountains, as you can see from the picture below.

We've arrived!

We have arrived alive and well in Dar es Salaam, after a couple of long, long flights  Peace Corps staff met us (all 47 new education volunteers) at the airport and took us to a conference center where we are staying for a few days.  That first night, we were given malaria medications and told to take them every day.  The next day came rabies and hepatitis B shots; Friday, typhoid.  (That one hurt!)

As well as medical preparations, we've had instructions on food safety and water treatment.  We've also had intros to Tanzanian culture and Swahili--including the use of "choo" (latrines).

The conference center is a calm oasis in the bustling city.  Sunday, for the first time, we were taken in small groups to see some of that city.  We boarded dala-dalas--small buses that are generally overcrowded--and rode downtown.  We walked around and were able to shop for items we will need during the next phase of training when we each stay with a host family.  Most of the women in the group bought kangas--colorful and infinitely useful pieces of cloth that can be a skirt, sarong, towel, shawl, or many other things.  (Photo of me in my kanga to follow at a later date).

Note:  It's good to be an older person on a dala-dala.  People offer you their seat.

Joining the Peace Corps

Joining the Peace Corps is not as simple as one might think.  The application itself is more like that of a top-rated college.  It asks for a complete history of the applicant's education, employment, and volunteer activities.  Two essays must be written, three references given, and transcripts provided.  Because we are a married couple and will serve together, we had to answer additional questions, and write a third essay.

Then, there is an interview with the recruiter.  Ours was in-person, and lasted 2+ hours.  Applicants who pass all of this scrutiny are "nominated" for service in the Corps.

Then comes the medical review.  Honestly, this was my biggest concern.  After all, even the healthiest people our age have had health problems of some sort during their lives.  The preliminary questionnaire asked if we currently had or had ever suffered from 60+ conditions.   Every divergence from perfect health must be explained to the satisfaction of the medical office.  Of course, it makes sense--they don't want a volunteer to have a foreseeable medical problem when posted hours--or days--away from adequate care.  So, we saw our family doctors, dentists, and optometrists.  Then there were the labs--the blood tests required 10 vials of blood.  (Ugh.  I've always hated blood tests.  Going through this experience is making me a lot tougher, and I haven't even arrived in Africa yet.)

This is our medical paperwork, ready to mail:

Well, we passed the medical review, and went on to placement.  The placement officer looks at the applicant's total profile, and matches it to upcoming openings.  Placing a couple is more challenging, as they have to match two people to two openings in the same community.  After that is done, an official invitation is sent.

Then the waiting begins.  We originally applied in April 2011, were nominated in June, invited in November, and will leave for Tanzania in June, 2012.  We're anxious to go now.

So, what is this blog about? And, who is "Bibi"?

I started this blog in order to keep our friends and family updated on our experiences in the Peace Corps.  When my husband, Mark, decided to retire, we had to address the question of "What's next?"  We are both youngish retirees (well, under 65, anyway) and healthy.  Joining the Peace Corps is something we've kicked around since our college days.  So we applied, and began this journey. 

After going through a long and arduous process (more on that in another post), we find ourselves on the verge of leaving for Tanzania.  Mark will be teaching secondary math, and I will be teaching English.  Swahili is the official national language of Tanzania, and we will have to learn to communicate in it during our 3-month in-country training period.  Happily for us, English is the second official language, and is used in higher education and commerce.   

"Bibi" (pronounced BEE-bee) is the Swahili word for "Ms." or "Ma'am", and is the female equivalent of "Bwana".  Bibi is also one of the words for grandmother.  Since that's what I am, you can just call me Bibi.