Hamna Shida (no worries)

There comes a time when you are in a developing country that your American arrogance takes over and the frustration level gets so high you want to burst.
I think when you are trying to assimilate into a foreign country there is part of you that constantly fights the process. This is where the frustration comes from. The American, puritan ethic, in me kept fighting against the TZ culture. It hit a head at about 2 weeks in. This is when I met Jessie (my roommate for a week before she went back to Kansas, funny I know) and to be able to talk to another American (English speaker) that shared the same frustrations was cathartic and gave me an interesting mirror in order to look into.
The frustrations were many, but I'll only list a few:
The drivers here are horrible, not just don't use blinker lights horrible,but dangerous horrible. I thought I was going to die on my 18 hour (I thought was 7) bus trip to Mbea. We had to travel through the mountains to get there. Isaw more overturned semis on this 36 hour trip to and from Mbyea than I have my whole 48 years traveling through out the US. Anyone of those semis could have taken my bus out. Not that the bus driver was lacking any opportuniyt to take us out himself driving down the mountains.
Tanzanians have a different sense of time. When they say 'soon" they mean about 3 hours. When they say now they mean within the hour. The wait patiently for everything. The bane of American's existence.
The Tz also will say "God Willing" for everything intheir lives. Most are deeply rleigous and their hard lives make them accept (without question) the things that happen to them. One of our students died at the school I was at and no one knew why, not even the doctor. It was just his time for God to take them, a perfectly healthy 7 year-old.
I had a deep desire to fix everything I saw that was not working well, from broken doors to filling in a walk way with sand so the children didn't continually trip. Learning to let this go was very difficult for me.
I was pulling water up from the well and noticed there was a hole in the bottom of the bucket. When I got the bucket to the surface it was only half full. When I inquired about this I was told thatsome people are careless and if they replaced the bucket it would just happen again so they leave it. Ugh!!

I did fix the bathroom door because it had no handle and you had to grab the wood plank with your fingertips in order to lock it. Trying to shut it was an act in futility. I also fixed my door because the locking mechanism was falling off.
Jessie and I commiserated about our perception of the Tz inability to problem solve or goal set.

It was later that I refelected that I was imposing American values and standards onto a country that is still struggling with feeding their countrymen. Life and death are very precarious in Tanzania. Malaria, HIV and Typhoid are rampant as are unemployment, poverty and lack of education. There is no municipal trash pick up and sewer and lean water services are scarce. I suppose the fact that you have to grip the wood plank on a door to shut it is really not that big of a deal to them.

After you are here for a while longer you begin to assimilate and your frustration level drops, and you don't mind being stopped by everyone you see on the path you are on to see how you are even if you are suppose to be somewhere. After all you told your friend you would be there soon.

School: the life-raft with a hole in it

Schools in Tanzania are broke into primary (standard 1 through 7) and secondary (Form 1 through Form 4). There is also Form 5 and Form 6 which you have to pass an exam in order to get in and IF you can afford it and IF you pass then you might be able to go to University. The NBA holds better odds.
School is a privilege and you have to pay to go. Schools cost around $800.00 a year = $800,000 shillings. This is impossible for some families, especially with multiple children. The average person (if they can find work) make about $6,000.00 shillings a day or six dollars. Many children do not go to school. Or they do not pass primary and do not continue. The children that get to go to school work ery hard and look forward to any extra help they can get. I have upwards to 15 kids in my room when the generator comes on to do homework, get help, read, draw, anything. There is such a need both educationally and psychologically with the children here it is almost overwhelming.
There are schools everywhere, public and private (so it seems) and the chidren that attend them walk miles or ride a bus long distances everyday to get to school. Many children are borders (especially the orphans that are lucky enough to get into a bording school) In one of the schools that I teach in the children sleep two or three to a single bed. Some have nets some do not. I brought 20 with my and it made a dent. From my understanding the children are in school 10 months out of the year with two breaks in between semesters.
most of the children in school are away from their families for long periods of time. The orphanes (a whole subject in and of itself) livein orphanages which are more prevelant than schools. Some visit extended familiy a few times a year.

The one school I teach at is both a primary and a secondary school. The school has no electricity and they get their water from in inadequate well (to shallow for clean water) and they use rain water to drink. They do not drink a lot of water here, especially compared to Americans. Dehydration has got to be a problem.
They run a generator at night for a few hours and there are a couple of rooms that have a bulb so the students cram into them to do their homework. This is quite a sight. It would make a teacher fill with awe. It did me.
Classes start at 8:00 a.m. and run until 3:30 with a couple of breaks and lunch (ugali and beans) Most of the younger kids fallout before 3:30 gets here. The kids stay in the same classroom and the teachers rotate.
My classroom is in the middle of the compound (fenced in) and gets very little ambiant light. My class starts at 8:00 am everyday and it is usually overcast, making seeing the chalkboard from the back of the room very difficult. The class i teach is form II math (algebra and geometry) my students ranged in age from 15 to 22. I had 36 of them in one room.
The room is dark and damp, there is a large(old) chalkboard in the front of the class. I have 2 sticks of chalk and a form II book (an excercise book with a few examples and practice problems, fewer answers in the back) There is no teacher's edition. I have three of the thirty-six that also have a book. That is it. No other materials.
The children copy everything down into their exercise books (blank bound paper) The write their own text book. This process takes a looooong time and we only have 40 minute classes. This was frustrating for me because we had very little time to dialogue about math. The books they use in math are all skill books, little application.
In spite of the challenging environment and the schools some times closing for days, weeks months because of lack of teachers or foods, the childdren learn and many of them crave more.
When young Jessie was here we shared a dorm room and that is where the students would come for extra help. I observed this one young man about 12 years ole have an indepth conversationwith Jessie (19 from Kansas) about irregular verbs. This young man was trying so hard to wrap his head around them. Other kids were copying English-Kswahili dictionerys to learn new words. To watch this scene was very powerful, to participate in it was life changing. The conversations that take place and the thirst for knowledge these young people have would make any jaded teacher cry.

I am called "Mzungu"

The people in Tanzania do not see many white people. In the tourists area they see many more and for the most part try to get those folks to buy their art, or visit their sister's shop. When you travel away from the tourists streets of Arusha and go into the neighborhoods, or if you travel into the mountains (where the schools that I am teaching are at) then the presence of white people gets fewer and fewer.The people in these areas view seeing and meeting a white person as good luck and love to stop and talk with you. The Tanzanians are very demonstrative people. Boys and men will hold hands and touch each other frequently. Little girls will walk together in a small ball. The children will yell "Mzungu, Mzungu." They love to hold my hand and walk with me. The parents enjoy watching their children with me and are not fearful or threatened by you interacting with their children. In fact they will let you walk away with their children in tow and know that their children are safe and will be home sooner or later. The Tanzanians are very open hearted, loving, passive people. The children are a giggling mass of love. I did meet some children who had never seen a white person before and they were actually afraid of me. They would stare and drop whatever they had in their hands and not move. I think if I had made a run at them they would have died of a heart-attack. I took my responsibility as an ambassador seriously though and only smiled and said, "Jambo toto." Meaning "Hello children".
If the people of the world could have a little of the Tanzanian loving spirit within them the world would be a better place.

Hard Living On Clay Street

-Arrivig in Kiliminjaro Airport is a glimpse of what is to come. There are no directions on what to do or where to go. I got in the mob that was headed for the Visa booth. There were no roped lines to keep us in order, no structure, no system in place.... Welcome to Tanzania.
after getting my Visa it was very late at night and the officials weren't really paying attention so I walked past customs with my bags and out the front door.
I met William who is the "tour guide" for the next several days.
The first thing that is different when we got on the road, other that the fact at how nice these people are and extremely polite, is that there are people walking every where, at all hours of the night. The other thing that was notable was the speed bumps.
We arrived in Arusha late and when I got to William's house I couldn't see much of the environment. The "road" to Willy's house was very narrow and had a surface like large bubble wrap. This is I think due to the poor (none) drainage and the rainy season.
We entered the compound (we don't have these in the US) through an iron gate, I had to stoop to get through. Willy's apartment is one of 8 and you enter into a square cement pad. The apartments all face this pad, two on each side. This is like their courtyard. This is where all the cooking (on a kerosene burner), washing of clothese (out of a bucket) and playing of the children occurs. We went to Willy's door where upon hearing us arrive his 4 year old daughter,Miriam (aka princess) came pealing out, eventhough it was very late. When she saw me she screamed for joy and ran into my arms and gave me the biggest hug I have ever had. Wow welcome to Tanzania.
I slept under a net for the first time, slightly clausterphobic but you get used to it. The TZ people are very generous people. The do not have a lot, but they share everything they have. They wait for the guest to serve themselves first, everytime and they tell you to take as much as you want. TZ folks eat a lot of food (starch). The fruits and veggies are amazing. I became a vegetarian while here (the meat is not too good and one can only eat so much rice and ugali (corn powder mixed with water to make a thick paste)
The next morning we explored Arusha. I wasn't quite ready for what I saw especially the contradictions.
First do not where pants that drag on the ground even a little,trust me on this.
Second if you plan on staying a while and washing your own clothes (in a bucket with a bar of orange soap, the white bar is for your "showers") do not bring: jeans (they take forever to dry and are a bear to wring out and they do not shrink back into shape), sweatshirts (see previous), anything white, or t-shirts. Bring: flip-flops (do not go bear foot), old tennis shoes, boots, mudboots (if the rainy season), cotton clothes that are easy to wash and dry quickly, layers of clothes (it is cold in the winter), matches (TZ matches will frustrate the hell out of you, fingernail clippers, lotion, tape,scissors or knife, flashlight, and a leavermen (they have few tools and you will find you need them) Learn some basic Swahili or go with a local when shopping so you don't get ripped off. Shop owners will respect you more and will give you a better deal even if you know a little. They will all help you with the pronounciation.
The TZ love to greet you, and most of them (especially the children) love white people. Whitepeople are called, 'Mzungu.'
When I left Willy's we walked through his neighborhood and it is exactly as you see a developing country portrayed. Women working over buckets or pans, either cooking or washing clothes. Many of these women have children on their backs while they work. There are stray dogs and errant chickens everywhere. Waste water from dishes, clothes and cooking is running down the streets (paths), the children play on mounds of dirt (and there are children everywhere).
Most of the roads are unpaved and very rocky. People have to walk to a local water pipe to get their water, this is done several times a day. The 5 gallon buckets are placed on the heads of women and children as they carry that water home. I am sure there are homes that have water in them (maybe not), but I never saw one,nor did any of the people I talked to know of one. The only place you will find running water inside is in the big hotels (where I used the bathroom several times while in Arusha just to have a Western style toilette) or the restaurants that cater to tourists. The everyday TZ does not have that luxury.
The mom of the family I stayed with busy making lunch when we came home. She was sitting on the cement pad with a bread board in front of here kneading bread that would then be fried to make a flat bread. They have no ovens so most of their food is fried or cooked as a stew. She then made ugali which is corn powder stirred into boiling water. This takes great strength to stir in the final stages, it gets very thick. They use aluminum pans because of how they conduct heat and they are light weight, they don't know about the Alzheimer connection and I didn't tell them.
Most TZ eat very late at night, just before bed. I had a hard time with this and it is one reason that the women get progressively larger as the years go by, that and the fact that their diet consists of primarily starch. They eat a lot of starch, either in the form of rice, fried potatoes, or ugali. The men don't gain weight like the women because their work involves more cardio and they travel further from home.
Going to the market can take all day. You have to walk from you neighborhood to where the Dali-Dali road is, then you either wait or walk toward your destination. A Dali-Dali will be along and they will pick you up if you extend your hand. The vans they use for this are all old Japanese vehicles, many in disrepair. There were several times that people jumped out of the Dali-Dali (you must have at least 11 on board for them to leave) and helped push it so the driver could pop the clutch. Many more have horrible exhausts and spew CO into the air. You ride the Dali-Dali until you get close to the market and you pay your 50 cents (no matter how far you ride) and get off by climbing over everyone in front of you. You then walk the rest of the way to the market (a very big place) and buy what you need for that day and maybe the next since there is little refrigeration. People can't afford the electricity and if they can afford the electricity they cannot afford the refrigerator. They then take their purchases (hopefully) not forgetting anything and do the whole route backwards. Remember this is with a child on their back and possibly more in tow. There is no daycare here, although neighbors help out a lot. I watched my house mom keep track of the whole square of children.
Most TZ do not wear their shoes in the house and you will see a stack of shoes and flipflops outside of every door. The reason for this is the mud and the bathrooms. The bathrooms are a separate (closet) away from the house, sometimes connected sometimes not. It consists of a hole in the floor that drains to a holding tank somewhere (I think) there is no toilet paper and no sink for washing (yeah, I know) You use a bucket of water that is kept handy, sometimes, to wash down what you don't make down the hole. This takes some practice and skill. Enough said about that, only my leg and butt muscles are now much stronger.
I took my showers in the morning in Arusha and learned the hard way when they say, "Your shower is ready", you should not delay, because your shower is a bucket of water and it cools down fast. The shower is taken in either a different concrete closet or in the toilette closet. You learn to conserve water and be quick about the scrubbing because it is cold in the mountains.
The people of Tanzania have life hard according to our standards, but yet they love life and each other. There is a special place in their culture for children. They consider them a blessing and they are.