Saying Goodbye - Part II

Our headmistress and the other teachers have known for some time that we will be leaving, but we tried to keep the students unaware for a long as possible, in order not to distract them.  After their end of term exams, though, we met with our classes and explained that we are leaving, and when.  There was sadness, and a few tears, and the question, "Will you ever return?"  I had to say that I don't know.

One the last day before the students left for their month-long break, there was a school-wide assembly.  The headmistress calls these a couple of times a term to discuss various topics with the whole school.  This time, the final topic on the agenda was our departure..  She spoke about the rainwater harvesting projects we had completed at the school, and then the head of the math department spoke about our teaching, the math club we sponsor, the fact that we always show up for class on time, and that we don't beat students.   (These last two behaviors set us apart from the other teachers!)  We replied by telling the students that we'd been here 2 years, that we loved Tanzania and loved teaching them and that we'd enjoyed math club, but that we miss our families and it was time to go home.  We said, from our hearts, that we will always remember them.

Then, it was time for gifts.  Our headmistress presented Mark with a hand-beaded shirt and a wall-hanging.  He put on the shirt and executed a few dance steps to show it off---the students were thrilled and screamed with laughter!  She gave me a hand-beaded skirt and top, and a hand-beaded banner that reads,

Carol & Wilson

This is to appreciate for all

which you did to our school

Be Blessed

The hand-beading on all of these must have taken weeks to complete.  These are such valuable gifts, and the sentiment so touching, that I was in tears.

 

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The Monday after the students let for their holiday, we arranged for sodas to be served to the school staff and teachers, and told them that this was a thank-you in gratitude for how warmly welcoming they have been to us.  And, it's true, they are a very friendly bunch, and have included us in their activities and celebrations.  Everyone enjoyed the sodas (which are a treat and a mark of hospitality), especially because they usually appear in the staff room only when someone is sweetening a request for contributions to their wedding.

The next day was the school's farewell party for us with the teachers and staff.  A feast was prepared with beef, chicken, stewed bananas, potatoes, two types of rice and fruit.  After we all ate, Mark and I were directed to sit at a decorated table set up in the front of the staff room.  Our headmistress rose and made a short speech of appreciation, talking about how she had prayed for us to be assigned to her school after the Peace Corps had discussed the possibility with her in 2012.  Then, teachers representing the academic office, the math department, the English department, and the social committee spoke, as well as teachers with whom we had worked on particular projects.  They praised our helpfulness, willingness to be involved with the school community, punctuality (!), and "cooperation" -- a catch-all term they use here for what I consider behaving professionally and responsibly.  It made me a little uncomfortable to be praised for those things, as I consider they were just part of doing our jobs, but the teachers appreciated them.

Then came more gifts -- two shirts for Mark, a dress and a purse for me, and, most surprising of all, gifts for our family back home.  The good-will and generosity of our school community has been overwhelming and makes me -- almost! -- sorry to leave.

Saying Goodbye - Part I

We'll be finishing our Peace Corps service soon and going home, and we have started the extended process of saying goodbye to the people we've known here.  We've learned over these past 2 years that Tanzanians have rituals for dealing with life events, and saying goodbye is one of them.  Americans might say a few words of thanks and leave it at that, but here the process follows a more formal pattern.

Our first goodbye event came about because our headmistress told the president of the school's governing board, whom we have met a few times, that we are leaving.  He then invited her, and us, to dinner at his house.  Besides being president of the board, this man is the Member of Parliament for our district, and has been active in politics for a long time ... a "Big Potato" indeed.

I envisioned a simple, small, dinner party.  Silly me.  We went to the dinner accompanied by our headmistress and 5 of the teachers who make up the "management team" of our school.  When we arrived, we took off our shoes on the porch, as is the custom.  Then we were shown into a large, modern living room, with photos of various prominent people on the walls, interspersed with Maasai ceremonial sticks and shields.  Our dignified host and about a dozen other people were sitting on sofas and chairs circling the room.  We were greeted and we sat as well.  Everyone introduced themselves--there were an assortment of notables, the district education commissioner, political appointees, and political party members.  Over beverages, our host politely asked our opinions on education in Tanzania and conversed with us about global politics.  He mentioned that he had seen an ad on TV, paid for by "Friends of Hillary Clinton", and asked if we thought she would run for president.  He told us that he himself had had Peace Corps teachers when he was in school.   Then various guests, one by one, were invited to say nice things about us, and we responded in kind.

Dinner, served buffet-style, was well-prepared traditional food:  rice, chicken, beef in a sauce, potatoes and bananas.  Afterwards, as a closing gesture, a couple of party members brought out and distributed polo shirts bearing the words "Friends of (our host)" to us and the other teachers.  Of course, Mark and I can't wear them here, as PCVs must stay away from politics, but what a souvenir!         

A Culture in the Midst of Change

Tanzania has many tribes (72 is the number I have heard, but there may be more).  The most well-known of these by the outside world is the Maasai.  Traditionally, Maasai have been nomadic cattle herders, but that has been changing in recent decades.  Pressures from government and the rest of society have pushed more and more of them to settle down, farm, and even move to cities.  Yet, they value their culture and are proud of it, and some continue to set themselves apart from the increasingly westernized rest of the country through their clothing, language, and occupations.

Most of the students and some of the teachers at our school are Maasai.  Last week we attended the wedding of two Maasai teachers that highlighted the different ways that people have reacted to societal pressures to conform.

Both of the teachers are bright, well-educated, and fluent in at least three languages:  English, Swahili, and Maa, the language of the Maasai.  They wear western-style clothing and are technology-savvy.  The wedding ceremony was in a Lutheran church, and was as conventional as any we have attended.  We noticed that the wedding guests were variously attired in a range of clothing from very western, such as would pass unnoticed in an American church, to the colorful long dresses commonly worn by women in small-town Tanzania, to total Maasai tribal garb with shukas (robes) and layers of beads.  At the reception, it became evident that most of the people in westernized dress belonged to the groom's family and the tribally dressed people belonged to the bride's.  Mid-way during the festivities, the fathers of the bride and groom made short speeches.  The groom's father wore a tweed sports jacket, dress shirt, tie, and trousers, and spoke in Swahili.  The bride's father wore shukas and beads, and spoke in Maa.

Diverse gifts were presented to the couple.  They included a 26" flat-screen computer monitor, from the other teachers, and 10 goats and a cow, from the bride's immediate family.  This last was a very impressive gift:  the average cost of a cow is about 2 months of a teacher's salary.

The future of the newly-wedded couple looks bright in terms of economic and educational success.  They have good, secure jobs in the government school system.  Their children will be educated at least as well as they themselves are. Will the children grow up knowing the Maasai traditions?  Will they speak Maa?  Will they maintain a feeling of belonging to a unique culture?  Will the couple keep the cow and goats, or sell them and buy modern conveniences?  Only time will tell.    

 

Rainwater Harvesting

Our school is in a dry area of this country, and it regularly runs out of water due to continuing drought conditions.  The school serves almost 800 students, including 470 boarding students, plus teachers and staff, and it needs a continuous supply of water to maintain a clean and healthy learning environment.  The drought poses many problems at the school, including threatening the health and welfare of its students, and impeding their education through imposing a financial burden on the school.  When the school has no water, cooking, cleaning, and bathing is a challenge.  The students often must spend their time and money making unsupervised treks off the school compound to fill their buckets with water purchased from other sources.  Unsupervised expeditions by students away from school are normally carefully monitored by teachers, except for this mass exit of students away from school in search of water.  These off-campus trips put the students at risk of making contacts that lead to HIV infection, pregnancy, and other undesirable outcomes.                                                                                                                                                                         

At the request of our headmistress, we formed a committee which decided to build two rainwater harvesting systems.  We located one system near the school's kitchen (it takes a lot of water to cook beans and rice) and the other adjacent to the girls' dormitories.  We applied for and received U.S. government grants to partially finance the project and the school raised matching funds.   Construction started immediately after the funds were received, to take advantage of the rapidly approaching rainy season. 

The systems consist of gutters installed on dormitory and classroom buildings, which direct rainwater via pipes into four 5000 liter water tanks.  The tanks are elevated on sturdy cement-block stands, and connected to a spigot for access.  One of the tanks is piped directly to the kitchen and the other three are available for student use.  We found that a rainfall of between 1 and 2 centimeters on the roofs will fill the tanks to the top, and supply the school with 20,000 liters of clean water.  The system is low-maintenance, and virtually costless.  The students now have free, safe access to clean water on campus.       

A Few Words About Albinos

Early in our time here, I would occasionally spot someone from a distance in our small town and think, "Oh, there's another white person!"  Only when I got a closer look would I realize that the person was an Albino.  Albinism is a congenital disorder that results in very little pigment in the skin, hair, and eyes.  It shows up rarely in this population, but it is very noticeable.  Albinos have pinkish skin and in that regard resemble a blond Caucasian, but have Black African facial features and hair texture.

Albinos have it tough in this country in several ways.  They have to be very careful to protect themselves from the sun.  We are only 3 degrees from the equator, and our town is a mile high, so the sun's rays are intense.  Albinos must wear long sleeves, hats or scarves, and often sunglasses, even indoors.  The other danger for them lies in superstition and ignorance.  In some remote areas of the country, they have been subject to witchcraft-related murder and maiming.  Their body parts are believed by some to have magical properties.     

The more educated people of the country do not believe this, however, and in places where the legal system is functioning well, such crimes are prosecuted and punished.  We have a new teacher at our school who is an Albino, and I am happy to observe that the other teachers do not discriminate against him, but treat him like any other Tanzanian.

 

A Day in the Life of a PCV

Most of my scribblings in this space have been topical--discussing various aspects of my experience here in Tanzania.  Today I want to take my readers through a typical day, to provide some idea of the life we live.

I've always been an early riser, but now I have an extra incentive to be up before 5:00 a.m.  Our house is on the school campus, meaning that we share the school's water supply with 470 boarding students and several teachers.  We are fortunate to have running water piped into our house; the students must fetch water for bathing and laundry by carrying a bucket to an outside spigot.  They are wakened by a bell at 5:30, but there are always early birds up before that time.  From the time they get up until the start of classes, the demand for water is constant, and the water pressure so low that it usually doesn't reach our faucets.  So, I get up early to beat the rush and fill pots of water to heat for our baths and a pot to boil for coffee, tea, and drinking water.

On weekdays, after breakfast (usually a peanut butter sandwich), I walk over a gully on a log bridge to the classroom area, to sign in at the office.  On the way, I pass students cutting grass with grass whips or sweeping the dirt paths with brushes made of reeds.  They always seem to have a smile for me as they say, "Good morning, Madam!"

I see other teachers, and we greet each other in the usual way, with a handshake.  Then, we chat and wait for the morning assembly in the quad.  The students are a colorful sight in their uniforms.  Along with black trousers (boys) or skirts (girls), each class wears a different color sweater:  blue, purple, red, or green.  On Mondays and Fridays, assembly starts with the scouts proudly playing their newly acquired drums, fifes, and cymbals, raising the flag and accompanying the students as they sing the national anthem and school song.  Then follow various announcements and dismissal for the first class of the day.

I teach first-year math to 3 classes of almost 50 students each.  Some students are good in math, but most of them struggle.  Between classes and after them I do teacherly tasks such as writing lesson plans and marking homework.  I also spend time chatting with other teachers.  Casual, one-on-one conversation is an important way for us to learn about the culture of each other's country.  

Today, after my first class, I walk back to the dorm area to see if the workman who needs to connect some pipes for our grant-funded rainwater harvesting project has arrived.  This is a construction of gutters, pipes, and water tanks that will direct rainwater off the roof of a dormitory building into two 5000 liter holding tanks for the students to use for bathing, laundry, and cleaning.  Water is scarce in this area, and additional supply is sorely needed.  The construction is nearly finished, only needing a workman to spend a couple more hours here, but he has not appeared, yet again.  I trudge back to the school office to ask the headmistress if perhaps the school handyman could finish the work, or if we should wait a few more days for the gutter installer to show up.  She will try to call him, and we decide to wait one more day. 

We have a tea and snack break at 10:40, then there are more classes until lunch at 2:40.  Today is Thursday, so lunch is beans and rice, with a side dish of mchicha, which is similar to spinach.  Tea and lunch are provided to teachers and school staff five days a week.  It's a nice perk, and very convenient.

Occasionally I teach a late class on Monday or Tuesday.  Wednesday is Math Club when the school schedule allows, but on days when I have neither class nor club I leave campus after lunch to shop at the market for ingredients for dinner.  We don't have a refrigerator, so I buy food almost every day.

At home, I relax for a while by working a Sudoku puzzle and reading a book on my Kindle.  We buy internet time approximately 4 days a week, so on those days I spend time catching up with the rest of the world on our laptop.  Then, Mark takes his turn to listen to music and watch episodes of TV shows stored on the computer, and I have a glass of box wine while I cook dinner.  I hear students outside the kitchen window, laughing and shouting.  The hubbub dies down when they go to dinner themselves.  They have study time after dinner, so it's quiet until 10 p.m. when they return to the dorms and bed.  Mark and I are usually sound asleep long before then, tired from the early start to our day. 

Cycle of Life

In the year and a half we have been in our small town, some Tanzanian friends have borne babies and some have gotten married. I have blogged about both those events, so, I guess it rounds out the cycle of life to report on the funeral we attended a couple of weeks ago.

Mrs. Mbwambo, the wife of a teacher at our school, had gone to the town of Lushoto to visit their daughter at her boarding school.  On the return trip, her bus collided with a truck while trying to pass a smaller vehicle.  She had a badly broken arm and was taken to a good hospital in Moshi.  She was treated and seemed to be on the road to recovery, but she died suddenly of complications.  She was 42 years old.

When a person passes away here, all their friends, neighbors, and family members gather at the person's home every day until the funeral.  We went the day after we heard the news, with a group of other teachers.  Men wear their everyday clothes for the condolence call, but women wear a kanga, or two, for the visit and for the funeral itself.  Kangas are colorful and versatile pieces of cotton fabric that can be wrapped around the waist to wear as a skirt, wrapped higher up to make a sarong, or worn as a shawl.  In this case, women usually wear one as a skirt and another as a shawl.  Kangas have slogans printed above the lower border.  (Mine says, "Mtoto kwa mzazi hakui", which means, loosely, "To a parent, a child doesn't grow up.")  We saw several kangas at the funeral with the slogan meaning "All is God's work."  We wondered if they were made especially for funerals. 

We walked to the Mbwambo home on the other side of our small town.  We could identify the house from a distance because it was the one with the open-sided tents set up in the yard, a sound system playing hymns, and at least 50 people visiting.  We made our way to the porch where the widower sat, shook hands, and said "Pole sana" (very sorry) to him and to anyone who looked like a relative.  We then sat with other mourners under a tent and listened to the hymns for an hour or so.

Friends, neighbors, and family contribute to a "condolence fund", and we did as well, along with all the other teachers at our school.  The bereaved family uses the money to finance funeral expenses--not just a coffin, but the tent rental, sound system, and food for the mourners, who may spend all day at the home.  Close friends and neighbors take time off work in the days before a funeral, to spend time with the bereaved family.

Two days after our condolence visit was the funeral itself, which was also held at the home, in the front yard.  Mrs. Mbwambo was a grade school teacher, a member of her church choir, and a long-time member of the community, so hundreds of people attended the service.  People began assembling in the morning, but we and many others arrived a little before 2 pm.  Lunch was served before the service began, with 3 buffet lines set up on the property. 

The Christian service began after lunch, and many parts of it were familiar to us.  There were prayers, eulogies, and a sermon.  (Sermons in Tanzania tend to be lengthy.  Parishioners expect a pastor to speak for as long as he or she has something to say.)  Three different choirs sang, each more than once.  Then it was time for final goodbyes.  The casket, highly polished wood with ornate brass fittings, had been closed, but now was opened so mourners could file past for a last look at the deceased.  This was a highly emotional event.  The widower himself and his children were relatively stoic,  but female relatives and friends were wailing and sobbing.  Some had to be helped back to their seats.  After the last viewing, the casket was closed and carried away, to the accompaniment of one of the choirs.  Many people followed the casket, and others just got up and moved around.  We expected that the next stop would be a cemetery, so we were surprised to learn that she was to be buried beside the house.  I actually think that is a nice alternative, here.  Cemeteries generally seem neglected, with towering weeds and wind-blown trash.  By burying a loved one near the home, the family can maintain the gravesite regularly.

We found the condolence visits and the funeral very touching.  The whole week underlined for us the importance of the community in this culture.  People are closely involved in their neighbors' life events, and participate in them fully.