On the third day my skin began to turn red.......

My day begins at 5:00 a.m., with the chickens, well mainly roosters. I think the chickens sleep in. The sun comes up early here and sets around 6 p.m. We eat breakfast (the fruit is amazing) and head down the mountain to our work site. The mountain is more of a sloping cliff. People build houses right in the side of the mountains surrounding Port au Prince I have never seen anything like it.
We buy our lunch at a little bakery on our way to the work site. I now can order a chicken sandwich in French. “Polle pate, si bue plaite” Ok, I still can’t spell it.
The drive down the mountain to our site is about 20 miles; it takes us an hour and a half to get through Port au Prince to the other side. The streets that we travel sometimes are very narrow. The reason is they used to be walking paths and they built shops and homes next to the walking paths. After the earth quake most of PAP was destroyed and rubble was everywhere. The government paved the side paths in order to get trucks in and out of the city. They paved roads are now accepted as roads and people drive down them, walk down them, sell their wares on them and breakdown on them.
We see folks in the same silly straw hat or matching t-shirts. They are paid by NGO’s to help remove the rubble and trash from the streets. This is like a pebble in the pond situation.
The people on the streets come in a variety of conditions. Some are dressed very nice and are heading to a job, others are dressed in the same clothes they had on the days prior and they are setting up their street vendor sites. Still others are in the clothes they had during the earthquake and lost everything.
We drive past mansions (up the mountain) and tent cities (everywhere there is an open space) and very deep ravines (where all the trash and runoff goes), there is a whole sub-culture in the ravines. The people in the ravine have their own markets and social structure. I hear that life is different outside of PAP, but I have not left this area as yet. There are too many people in PAP.
When we get to site our workers are there and we have to unload the container for our day of work. The heat inside will melt you. I begin every work day with sweat traveling the gravity route of least resistance to the ground.
You don’t have to worry about mosquitos because the wind blows about 30 mile and hour across the site. The dust sticks to your sweat and by noon we are all the same color, terra cotta human.
We eat lunch around 12 and the afternoon is brutal to get much done. You are tired and the heat causes your memory to get fuzzy. It requires a lot of concentration to make your cuts accurate and get much productivity done. This is when my partner starts to recite cartoon lines. The Haitians do not understand his idioms. Chris is getting them to understand, “smarter than the average bear.” I told him that there are no bears in Haiti. One of the workers wants to know if bears are smart in America.
During the day there are always men looking for work and teenagers begging for food. It is weird what you can get used to.
When we get to a stopping point we start to clean up the sight and put everything back on the container, hopefully in a logical order for the next day. Chris and I then limp down to the little café that has cropped up on the work site and buy a beer, $1.00 US.
During the day there are always men looking for work and teenagers begging for food. It is weird what you can get used to.
We then crawl into the truck and drive 1 ½ hours back up the hill.
When we get back to our bed and breakfast we sit down and work on our site report and plan what we want to get done tomorrow and designate duties. The shower is amazing, but I know I haven’t gotten all the dust out of my crevices.
I try to send emails and then crawl into bed and pass out. The roosters get it all started again.
I am having a great time.

Toto we aren't in Kansas anymore

Ok, first off, I was in Africa and froze. Haiti is Africa hot. No joke, but they say it is a dry heat.
Arrived in Port au Prince in the middle of the afternoon and got my luggage with the other passengers (99% of them were white and on a mission trip and the bulk of them came from Michigan, Ohio, or Indiana). Weird. We walked out to where the taxis were and were instantly attacked by what I will call the ‘sharks’. These are locals that want to make a little money by ‘helping’ you with your bags. The mission people were big in the eyes and slow on the assertiveness. I left them to the feeding frenzy. My ride was a little late and by the time they arrived I was the only person of pale complexion left so it was easy to spot me.
We took a tour of Port au Prince and the devastation is far worse than the pictures display, mostly because it is everywhere. The rubble is stacked up in the streets along with the garbage. The streets are very narrow and driving is not for the faint of heart or unstable of neck. It can be very jarring. My partner’s head/elbow/shoulder/hip (ok I am joking about the hip) hit the side window several times because he was in the back and couldn’t see the rut coming.
From what I can tell the folks that used to live down town have moved out a bit where there is some open areas and have set up their tent cities; which are everywhere. It is a pretty sobering and humbling experience.
I worked the site today and we got some good stuff done. The house is coming together nicely, but you cannot leave tools around they will grow legs and walk away.
The supervisor of the job site makes sure that there are no neglected tools so you are constantly going back to the box to get a level/chalk box/blade whatever it is that you only need occasionally, but frequently. I constructed to partial roofs over a court yard and above the front door. That went well.
We are each assigned our own Haitian helper. My helper is named JeNelle (spelling) he is eager to learn carpentry and is learning not only carpentry, but my humor. He is my muscle, my getter, and my holder of the ladder. He also can swing a decent hammer. I am beginning my education in creole and my pronunciation is very bad……..the crew thinks it’s funny.
Today was a great day, even though it was really hot. We stay up the mountain so it is much cooler. The drive is insane!!!! The thunderstorms at this elevation rock!
The similarities to Africa are numerous although the abject poverty is worse here than what I saw in Tanzania.

Checking it Twice

So, your life has been turned upside down and you are not sure how to get it back shiny side up: enter, friend of a friend that is need of a carptenter in Haiti.....I got skills. One week later I have had my shots, renewed my passport, paid my bills, fixed the cat, closed up school, negotiated a successful contract, informed my family (mostly positive reviews), scheduled my ablation for August, postponed trip with Jane (the minute I get back we are gone Jane!!)planted some perennials, canceled the garden project (next year it will be amazing), hugged my kids and got my itinerary.

Packing:
work clothes for a week (clothes dry very slowly in the tropics)
first aid kit
sunscreen
deet
hats
work gloves
bathroom supplies
One nice outfit, we may go out one time
bathing suit
underwear (lots)
computer
water container
extra protein foods

Things left to do:
get hair cut off (again)
get emergency evacuation insurance
learn French and Creole (ok, maybe not)
get head examined

Next stop Port-au-Prince or PAP as it will now be referred.

The Road Less Traveled

I have written this blog entry many times and cannot finish it without crying. I have less than 3 days left and I find myself anxious to get home and see my family and friends and sad that I have to say goodbye to people that I have fallen in love with. The saying goodbye takes on a new dimension because I know that most of these amazing human beings I will never see again in my life-time. How does one say goodbye then with that knowledge? The Tanzanians deal with it with a sense of calm and peace and they say, “God Willing Mama Kel we will see each other again.” Myself, I cry uncontrollably.

I think of:
Sarafina, who lost her father to AIDS and whose mother is sick with the virus. She wants to finish her education, but knows that it may be cut short because she may have to take care of her younger siblings if her mother gets too sick or succumbs to the disease.
Gloya, (who cooked for me regularly) who is raising his three children on his own and has to choose between leaving them for great lengths of time to finish his education or stay with them and not improve his standard to living.
Elesante, who also want to continue his education, but his family can’t afford it.
Marcelin, who watched his father killed by the Hutu at age 8 and later came to Tanzania to go to university not speaking any Swahili nor knowing where to study n order to improve his families (mother and two sisters) life back in Rwanda when he finishes his studies.
Josiah, (my co-teacher, whose sarcastic wit kept me laughing all day.) from Kenya and is working on becoming a minister. He wants to return to his wife and child and spread the word (along with his humor) to others.
These are common stories not exceptions.
I think of all of the children that I met many of them with former presidents names like; Nixon, Regan, Kennedy, Carter, Clinton, Johnson and Lincoln.
I think of all the Tanzanians that I have met some that are HIV positive, that live daily with the threat of typhoid, malaria, tuberculosis, and the Nairobi fly, and yet giggle at the simplest things and love to hug and be hugged.
I think of the laughing and singing everywhere on the mountain. I think of the Vistas, which are breathtaking and the walks through the jungle. I think of all the animals and how fragile life is for all of them.

I will miss the greetings and the hand holding. The appreciation and laughs at my attempts at Swahili (the little kids were the best teachers) and the gentle corrections.

I will miss the patience of the people.

I will miss the hospitality of strangers who have become family. I will hearing, “Hi Teacher.”, “Hello Kitchenee Mama.”, “Madame Kel, how did you sleep.”

I have given away all my leftover food, my raincoat and umbrella. I shared my toiletries with the girls (they are very curious about the deodorant and the crème rinse) My tennis shoes and flip-flops went to kids that had none and my first aid kit went to Rosemary (Queen LaTifa of Meru Peak Schools)

My socks were coveted and I had to give these away in secret for I did not have enough for everyone.

My days move quickly now that it is almost over and my feelings remain mixed. I want to get home badly, but there is so much work to be done here.

Every hug brings tears to my eyes. I say goodbye to my students and sing Skid-a-ma-Rink with them one last time.
Saying goodbye to Headmaster Joseph was especially hard. He is 68 (well above the 55 life-expectancy) and we both new the odds of ever meeting again were slim. He is a very formal man and to receive a hug from him was one of the best gifts of all.

UAACC through me a party, complete with drums, dancing and a cake. It was awesome. After the party Marcelin escorted me back up the mountain for one last tour. He wanted to stop at his church to say a prayer for me. His prayer was in the form of a song on the piano. (He plays by ear) It was beautiful. I cried the whole time. He also sang me a song in his native Rwandan. I have never been so touched.

We then walked back to UAACC where he and my co-teacher Josiah (along with a driver) took me to the airport. We all hugged and cried, including the driver, one last time and I walked inside.

Tanzania and the wonderful people of East Africa are now part of my soul and I am a better person for it. I have become part Tanzanian and am proud.

God willing I will meet my friends again.

The Mountain and its People Sing

Life on the mountain is a challenge everyday. I swear I walk up hill everywhere I go. (Pole; sorry for your burden) (Asante sana; Thank-you for caring) I hear these two expressions everywhere because people are caring (usually women on their heads) everything they need to survive: water, firewood, crops, food, rocks, cement and even saw a stack of lumber carried like this. People say it to me too when I am carrying my bag with my school supplies.
My morning begins with children singing (usually hymns) at 6:00 a.m. I lay listening to them,smiling. i then hear the sounds of sweeping. The children clean the campus of the school by sweeping the dirt with branches. The collect the paper and sticks and throw them into one of the perpetual fires used for cooking or heating water for washing. Sometime I wash my clothes, a few articles at a time. This is done in a bucket and you rinse in a differnet bucket (you must choose wisely the order in which you wash) The straining the water out is the hardest part.
When I am up I open the door to my room so I can see. If it is too cold I will light the kersene lamp to eat my breakfast by. The children have porridge (watered down ugali) they don't get fruit, ever, because it is too expensive for the school. I have dinner with frineds some nights and one night I bought: 2 eggs (they are not refridgerated and you buy one at a time, not by the doze) a cucumber, 2 onions, 3 carrots and 2 oranges and it cost me 80 cents. This tells you how poor most people are here. The kids never complain about the food and in fact most seem to enjoy it. They have never known anything different so they are content with what they receive.
Some of the gilrs beathe in the morning, too cold for me! The water they use is different from what I receie. There's comes from a shallow well (large hole) where runoff water and waste water seep. Their water is not heated and they fetch it them selves. My water is brought to me everynight, and it is rain water and it is heated. They treat guests as if they were royalty. Many people here have housegirls, that take care of the chilrden, cook and clean. When I told them that very few people have "maids" in America they were suprised.
My first class is at 8:00 a.m. My classroom is so dark I don't know how the children see the front of the room. Some days it is worse because the children sweep the room (with the same branches they used on the campus) and the dust is so thick I have a harcd time seeing the chaulk board and I am writing on it.
My classes range from 40 to 80 minutes and I never have enough time because of all the copying requierd. The children work hard, but they sit so close that it is raelly hard not to use your partner's brain. I devised 2 forms of a quiz for them to take and instructed everyother person to either answer the questions on the left side of the board or the right side. It threw them for a loop. They performed very poorly. Tanzania is a communal country by nature, they do many things together. eventhough they see themseles as free individuals that is not the same as being independent from eachother.
Tanzanians are very dependent on eachother for food, transportatioin, medical help, help with children, laundry, cooking and encouragement. They work together to solve most of their daily needs.
After my morning class I walk up to UAACC and teach two English classes (one beginner, and one advanced) I work with an amazing group of volunteer teachers that live around the mountain and they help translate what I am trying to say to my students. This can be rather funny sometimes because of all the idioms and metaphors I tend to use in my everyday speech that I wasn't even aware that I do. We have great conversations just surrounding what I am trying to say that isn't technically part of the English lesson. Like, "Ok we are now going to shift gears" none of these people have even driven a car.
I eat lunch with the theachers everyday and we have develped quiet a friendship. During lunch (ugali and beans or mcandy which is corn and ugali) they watch music videos or African soap operas. It is hilarious to watch them get into these day dramas.
The teachers love to practice their English and they will ask me what certain words mean or how to prounounce them. Sometimes they will ask, "Are you sure it is pronounced that way?" This is when it is hard for them to say. Their sense of humor is really fun.
After classes-which end around 4:30 I am either playing basketball or reffing a football game.
Watching the young eople try and learn to play basketball is like watching someone learn to downhill ski for the first time.
Sometimes the ball dribbles them. There is not much in their daily life that lends itself to dribbling, passing, catching or shooting. They are also not used to running on a conrete slab(slightly covered in dirt, which make stopping in the flat bottomed flip-flops difficult) Sliding becomes part of the game. They listen to every direction I give and try to exedute the drills I provide with adandon. Some are becoming pretty good. I just have to convince them the Kobe Bryant is that all that and a box of rocks too. What these peole lack in basketball skills they make up for in mad soccer skills even in inadequate footwear; a field that hs rocks (large ones) on it to hold the cows ropes that graze there; the piles that the cows leave behind; not to mention the cows themselves. All this they have to navigate around coming down the field.
Two days a week I go to an orphanage further up the mountain and work with a young many who is having trouble learning to read. I am using my dyslexic training and hooked on phonics to help him. He loves the one on one. He is learning to blend the sounds and feels so good when he can say the words himself. His smile and hugs when he sees me coming are amazing. He yells, "Teacher, my teacher." I can get hime to focus for about an hour and a half every session.
I get back to my room around 6 p.m. and my "shower" is waiting for me. It is a bucket of hotish water. The school moms give me rain water to shower with (the softest water I have ever felt) I try to use as little as possible and share the left over with the girls. I am really glad that I cut all my hair off before I came. The girls rotate on who gets my leftover water. The girls use cold water from the "well"
Dinner is late around 8:00 p.m., this part I don't like, but I have adjusted. I have learned not to eath the meat (I will never complaong about school food again) so in the evening my diet is usually rice and regydrated spinach--yum. I use lots of hot sauce to give the food a lift. Before and after dinner I am with the students helping them with their studies. This is done in the classrooms, three of them, with lights from the generator. We have a lot of great discussions about the misconceptions regarding the US to kids back home and how they behave.
The generator makes a noise (surge) when it is about to run out of petrol and all the kids scatter to their dorms. The girls dorm is adjacent to my room and at night their whispering sounds like the buzzing of a great bees nest. It is that sound that carries me off to sleep.
On Fridays they sing. The children actually have organized a choir complete with a director. They are preparing for their church service on Saturday (which is all day)
On Saturdays I quietly make my wat to town. The biggest town nearby is Arusha. It is hard to gage the size of it because I only see part of it. I get up in the morning and have my usual breakfast of bananas, organes and passion fruit and walk down off the mountain, about 7 km. This takes a good hour and on my way I am greeted by everyone I see on the road. I get to USA (pronounced oooosu) and catch a smoosh mobile (a dali-dali) into Arusha. This takes another 30-50 minutes depending on how many stops we make, which is determined by how mnay people are standing by the side of the road and give the signal to get picked up.
In Arusha I get a cup of coffee at a little coffee house first and have a bite to eat. T then visit one of the upsacle hotels ( a trick I learned from Jessie) to use their bathroom and stroll their grounds.
I then shop or visit a museum or pick a new place to try for lunch. Sometimes this is a trek. I then eat lunch and begin my safarri back to Meru Peak. I take a Dali-Dali back to USA River and walk back up the mountain. I hear musci everywhere I go. They love Bob Marley, Celine Deon, and Dolly Parten (I know) they also play their African gospel and hip-hop, and soul music. I have danced with many people up and down the mountain, everyone loves to dance. The walk back up the mountain takes longer and is very steep in places. but is feels so good to walk it. I views are beautiful. I always look forward to Saturdays.
Sundays I would wash clothes, clean my room and play more soccer. The kids and I would sing songs and just enjoy eachothers company.
My days are full and I am fulfilled.

A Panther in Africa

Being a math teacher I actually enjoy probabilities. So, when I sat down to try and calculate the odds of:
1. going to Africa
2. picking Tanzania at random
3. finding Meru Peak Schools on the internet out of the thousands listed
4. discovering within amile of the school is a community center ran by an ex-black panther and his wife from Kansas City living in political exhile.
Ok, I know those of you who know me are thinking of course you would pick this place because that is karma and a black panther and Kelly Kitchen go hand in hand.
Well as it turns out you are right. Whatever power brought me here the probabilities are astronomical and therefore i have to leave it to energy outside my understanding.

Mama C (Charlotte) and Pete O'Neil have lived in Tanzania for about 30 years because Pete fled the US when he was charged with a crime he did not committ and knew he would be convicted, because of his work in the black panther movement, and later was convicted in abstentia. They have built a community center on the mountain brick by brick where they have teachers that teach English classes to the locals for free. They also teach computers, art, guiding (on safaris), dance and music classes (they have their own studio and produce CD's) all for free to the locals. They are supported by groups of students coming from the states and Europe that arrange for African immersion experiences. There was a group of University of Michigan students here for a such an experience while I was here.

Pete (still an imposing figure at 68 with dread locks down his back)and Mama C's(an angel to everyone that meets her and a spirtual presence that rmeinds me of a shamen) compound is a haven equipped with internet (it is what I use to type my blog) classrooms, dorms for the visitors, a wounderful staff of volunteer teachers and a basketball court.
I teach two English classes a day and play basketball with the locals every chance I get. Some of the girls are developing a nice jump shot and the boys are beginning to understand what a proper lay-up is. It is amazing coaching a foreign sport to someone that doesn't speak the same langauge as yourself I have learned so much from these young people, mostly humility.
cC
The students I have at UAACC (United African Alliance Community Center) are mostly adults. Some are housewives, some farmers, some are preachers and some are young people looking for a way not to end up in the streets. They are all open-hearted very attentie students who love have an American teach them anything. They clap spontaneously in the middle of a lesson when they feel they really grasp what I am teaching. It is amazing. They also tell me after every class that they love me and are so happy that I share "The English" with them. Africa sees English as the language of the future.
They work so hard trying to expand their vocabularies and trying to figure out subject verb agreement as well as those pesky irregular verbs. I never appreciated English as my natie langage before, but I do now.
Their hard work and loving nature brings tears to my eyes frequently. I have been humbled by this country and the people in it.
The students are many at UAACC and they come everyday. Some are fed lunch and are expected to work hard at their studies. They are so thankful to Pete and Mama C for providing this opportunity for them. Their lives are enhanced daily just for participating in UAACC and the family that is there.
The teachers are all volunteers and many of them are students at the University of Arusha, up the mountain further, and live in the area. Many teach during their breaks from school. I am the only native English speaker here currently and all the teachers love to talk to me to practice English and work on their pronounciation.
UAACC also teaches art and music classesand they have a pretty cool music studio. The sales of their music goes to the students that create them.
The art gallery is equally as impressive their batiks, purses,jewelry, and clothing is beautiful.
Pete and Charlotte have made a have in the middle of abject poverty, and the share their love of people and community builidng with those around them.
One of Pete's friends, Geronimo Pratt is also here. He was convicted of a crime he did not commit and spent close to 30 years in prison for it. His conviction was overturned and the government had to write him a check. He brouhgt that money to Tazania and is now living his life with his lovely wife in the mountains of Tz. He was instrumental in helping Pete put in a deep well where people in the area can get clean drinking water without flouride (a huge problem here)
I hope I get to take a dance class and drum class before I leave.
Pete retains his Black Panther attitude and his angst is refreshing. It is that tenacity that got everything accomplished that he has here and his growl makes me smile because his heart is pure gold. They are opening an orphanage (living center) soon. I hope to continue to support their efforts in the future.