October 10: Ndanda

I’m leaving for a goodbye party after I write this post.
There has been one other goodbye party before this, which took place two weeks before I left Tanzania for break and was held in honor of the Economics teacher, Mr. Nganga. Another counterpart, Juma Kiwone, was also leaving but for some reason he didn’t tell the school administration of his impending departure. I’m not terribly close with any of the other teachers but I had spent more time with Nganga and Kiwone than most of the others; Kiwone also taught chemistry and in fact had attended a brief Peace Corps teacher training session with me. He is very small, around 5’, wears western long-sleeve collared shirts rather than the local tailored variety and was contemplating buying a car a few weeks before he left. He was a miserable chemistry teacher who could not prepare stock solutions by himself, and I cannot believe he was selected to attend further science studies rather than some other, more competent candidate. The students frequently complained that he could not answer any of their questions instead yelled back at the one brazen enough to ask. Nevertheless I liked him, he helped me out when I first moved into my new home and would always smile.
Nganga hated teaching. Like so many other teachers here he was a university graduate who grabbed the first job he could find, which unfortunately meant coming to Ndanda. He had grown up in Dar es Salaam, the capital, and I don’t think he liked being in the hinterland. At one point Nganga was very active in the teacher’s union but he was disillusioned by the time I met him, and he now works as an accountant in some other province. He had a second job at the Abbey Secondary School and also owned a little shop nearby which charged exorbitant rates for basic goods. In his free time he was usually hanging out with the carving guys outside his shop or looking after his child. Nganga wasn’t at his own goodbye party, and in fact I’m not even sure if he was informed there would be a party until he had already left for Dar.
I arrived at the party with my neighbor, Mama Yamiseo, thirty minutes after the starting time. Apparently this was still too early; when we arrived the stereos were blasting music but only three of us were sitting there – Erina, my JICA besti, had arrived before we did. Us two foreigners tried to get Mama Yamiseo to tell us all the gossip about the other teacher’s wives but I don’t think she understood us. From time to time other teachers poked their heads in, realized no one was around, and left, not wanting to be the lame ones who got to the party first. The DJ’s continued keep the music at full volume.
I had been assigned to security by the party planners. Most of the teacher tasks around the school are pretty ambiguous and usually I can get out them by having no idea of what’s going on. This night I had no such luck, however, and security detail apparently meant waiting outside and collecting tickets. Other teachers, staff members, and community members sauntered in and after about an hour it was assumed all the guests had arrived and I was allowed to come inside. I’m amazed how similar the whole affair was to an American party, right down to the style of music that was played (Swahili pop music and a little Celine Dion.)
I turned 23 today.