January 25, 2009
Last Thursday we had our school’s graduation ceremony; exams don’t begin until February 9th, but the students go home (and never come back) as soon as they are finished with their tests, so all ceremonies need to be done beforehand. Wednesday there were no classes – the students cleaned up for the entire day. Previous meetings and celebrations had been pretty disorganized affairs, and I was expecting much of the same – most of the Form V’s haven’t even returned to the school yet, and the date for this ceremony was decided at almost the last possible moment. I was wrong, though. The school set up two tarps to protect people from the sun, hired a DJ, and invited several other schools as well as the local big shot. They set up various other decorations, flags made from torn t-shirts and entrance gates made out of long sticks braided with each other.
Big shots here are always late, and all of the little minnows depending on their favors are always waiting for them. I was already familiar with this particular big man, the District Commissioner who came during the food shortages and then again to inspect the school grounds a week later. In the first instance he was almost begging the students not to become violent; in the second instance he came without any warning and expected to be escorted around by our principal. I can’t pretend to be particularly impressed with this guy, and my experience in Kenya taught me not to trust any African with a microphone. In any case he arrived some three hours late. Before then students piga storied or sat around bullshitting. We talked about Barack Obama’s inauguration and about HIV education, and eventually the ceremonies started.
The headmaster, the head of the school board, and the politician all gave speeches, mostly concerning the problems with Ndanda (lack of food, teachers, books, and lab equipment) and also described what they believed to be the solutions to these problems. These speeches were broken up by various interludes – first a group of students rapped, in Kiswahili, about the perils of HIV/AIDS. Two other students copied a popular comedy routine; then some visiting students from a nearby O-level day school performed a traditional Makonde dance (ngonda). Six students performed acrobatics for some fifteen minutes, backflips and human pyramids and balancing acts. After all this was finished, “discipline” certificates were handed out to the hardest working students, and each one got a leaving certificate.
Afterwards the students began taking pictures. A man with an old camera was taking pictures, and every graduate wanted one; each one also wanted pictures with me and Erina, and we sat for maybe sixty or seventy different shots each. Finally the students ate lunch and had a party, a disco, while the teachers ate in their own room. The headmaster through our own party later that night.
Monday, January 26, 2009
January 25, 2009
Last Thursday we had our school’s graduation ceremony; exams don’t begin until February 9th, but the students go home (and never come back) as soon as they are finished with their tests, so all ceremonies need to be done beforehand. Wednesday there were no classes – the students cleaned up for the entire day. Previous meetings and celebrations had been pretty disorganized affairs, and I was expecting much of the same – most of the Form V’s haven’t even returned to the school yet, and the date for this ceremony was decided at almost the last possible moment. I was wrong, though. The school set up two tarps to protect people from the sun, hired a DJ, and invited several other schools as well as the local big shot. They set up various other decorations, flags made from torn t-shirts and entrance gates made out of long sticks braided with each other.
Big shots here are always late, and all of the little minnows depending on their favors are always waiting for them. I was already familiar with this particular big man, the District Commissioner who came during the food shortages and then again to inspect the school grounds a week later. In the first instance he was almost begging the students not to become violent; in the second instance he came without any warning and expected to be escorted around by our principal. I can’t pretend to be particularly impressed with this guy, and my experience in Kenya taught me not to trust any African with a microphone. In any case he arrived some three hours late. Before then students piga storied or sat around bullshitting. We talked about Barack Obama’s inauguration and about HIV education, and eventually the ceremonies started.
The headmaster, the head of the school board, and the politician all gave speeches, mostly concerning the problems with Ndanda (lack of food, teachers, books, and lab equipment) and also described what they believed to be the solutions to these problems. These speeches were broken up by various interludes – first a group of students rapped, in Kiswahili, about the perils of HIV/AIDS. Two other students copied a popular comedy routine; then some visiting students from a nearby O-level day school performed a traditional Makonde dance (ngonda). Six students performed acrobatics for some fifteen minutes, backflips and human pyramids and balancing acts. After all this was finished, “discipline” certificates were handed out to the hardest working students, and each one got a leaving certificate.
Afterwards the students began taking pictures. A man with an old camera was taking pictures, and every graduate wanted one; each one also wanted pictures with me and Erina, and we sat for maybe sixty or seventy different shots each. Finally the students ate lunch and had a party, a disco, while the teachers ate in their own room. The headmaster through our own party later that night.
Last Thursday we had our school’s graduation ceremony; exams don’t begin until February 9th, but the students go home (and never come back) as soon as they are finished with their tests, so all ceremonies need to be done beforehand. Wednesday there were no classes – the students cleaned up for the entire day. Previous meetings and celebrations had been pretty disorganized affairs, and I was expecting much of the same – most of the Form V’s haven’t even returned to the school yet, and the date for this ceremony was decided at almost the last possible moment. I was wrong, though. The school set up two tarps to protect people from the sun, hired a DJ, and invited several other schools as well as the local big shot. They set up various other decorations, flags made from torn t-shirts and entrance gates made out of long sticks braided with each other.
Big shots here are always late, and all of the little minnows depending on their favors are always waiting for them. I was already familiar with this particular big man, the District Commissioner who came during the food shortages and then again to inspect the school grounds a week later. In the first instance he was almost begging the students not to become violent; in the second instance he came without any warning and expected to be escorted around by our principal. I can’t pretend to be particularly impressed with this guy, and my experience in Kenya taught me not to trust any African with a microphone. In any case he arrived some three hours late. Before then students piga storied or sat around bullshitting. We talked about Barack Obama’s inauguration and about HIV education, and eventually the ceremonies started.
The headmaster, the head of the school board, and the politician all gave speeches, mostly concerning the problems with Ndanda (lack of food, teachers, books, and lab equipment) and also described what they believed to be the solutions to these problems. These speeches were broken up by various interludes – first a group of students rapped, in Kiswahili, about the perils of HIV/AIDS. Two other students copied a popular comedy routine; then some visiting students from a nearby O-level day school performed a traditional Makonde dance (ngonda). Six students performed acrobatics for some fifteen minutes, backflips and human pyramids and balancing acts. After all this was finished, “discipline” certificates were handed out to the hardest working students, and each one got a leaving certificate.
Afterwards the students began taking pictures. A man with an old camera was taking pictures, and every graduate wanted one; each one also wanted pictures with me and Erina, and we sat for maybe sixty or seventy different shots each. Finally the students ate lunch and had a party, a disco, while the teachers ate in their own room. The headmaster through our own party later that night.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
December 10
The semester before any national exam, all Tanzanian schools participate in a regional “mock” examination to prepare both students and teachers for the upcoming ordeal. The regional mock is not just another test; teachers from every school in region first meet to write the exam and then meet again to mark it. Our students sat for this examination in early November and now a marking panel has convened at Ndanda to correct them all.
I’ve come to associate inter-school examinations with chaos and an inordinate amount of work for the wazungu science teachers. I first arrived in Ndanda the day before the national chemistry practical; Erina was sick and nobody else was able to prepare stock solutions. My first full day in Ndanda was spent running around a rotting laboratory littered with broken glassware in which everything - chemicals, large bottles, small bottles, running water – was missing or mislabeled. Not coincidentally, many students failed that practical, and the school’s overall results were the worst in its 100 year history. Five months before I arrived, payment for the mock examination had caused student riots. For this current exam, the school failed to tell me about my work until the last possible moment; there was a public holiday and a three day weekend, and I had planned to go visit several other volunteers. I was standing in front of the second master with a leave form when he showed me this letter. “I think you should read this, and then you won’t need this paper.” Despite the public holiday, there was still work the next day, and instead of travelling I typed all the mock examinations in every subject for the entire region.
The grading session today went something like that. Yesterday another friend of Erina’s arrived. He works in one of the Mtwara A-level schools as a BAM (Basic Applied Math, taken by some science students) teacher, but his contract ends next Wednesday. He was sent to help grade BAM and possibly Advanced Mathematics. He informed me that the three of us were responsible for all the BAM, Mathematics and Physics students; no other teachers were coming because there are no other teachers. Repeat: there is not a single other A-level Physics or Math teacher in 300km. The immediate consequence of this is that the three of us have a ton of work, much more than any Tanzanian teacher, and we’re all pretty pissed about it. My headmaster, Mr. Lulukila, came into the grading hall this morning and saw the three of us sitting together. “The international table! Japan, America…” I cut him off and complained about the lack of graders. “Hamna shida, (no problems),” he replied. I tried to tell him it was a fucking big problem but he was already walking away.
I’ve come to associate inter-school examinations with chaos and an inordinate amount of work for the wazungu science teachers. I first arrived in Ndanda the day before the national chemistry practical; Erina was sick and nobody else was able to prepare stock solutions. My first full day in Ndanda was spent running around a rotting laboratory littered with broken glassware in which everything - chemicals, large bottles, small bottles, running water – was missing or mislabeled. Not coincidentally, many students failed that practical, and the school’s overall results were the worst in its 100 year history. Five months before I arrived, payment for the mock examination had caused student riots. For this current exam, the school failed to tell me about my work until the last possible moment; there was a public holiday and a three day weekend, and I had planned to go visit several other volunteers. I was standing in front of the second master with a leave form when he showed me this letter. “I think you should read this, and then you won’t need this paper.” Despite the public holiday, there was still work the next day, and instead of travelling I typed all the mock examinations in every subject for the entire region.
The grading session today went something like that. Yesterday another friend of Erina’s arrived. He works in one of the Mtwara A-level schools as a BAM (Basic Applied Math, taken by some science students) teacher, but his contract ends next Wednesday. He was sent to help grade BAM and possibly Advanced Mathematics. He informed me that the three of us were responsible for all the BAM, Mathematics and Physics students; no other teachers were coming because there are no other teachers. Repeat: there is not a single other A-level Physics or Math teacher in 300km. The immediate consequence of this is that the three of us have a ton of work, much more than any Tanzanian teacher, and we’re all pretty pissed about it. My headmaster, Mr. Lulukila, came into the grading hall this morning and saw the three of us sitting together. “The international table! Japan, America…” I cut him off and complained about the lack of graders. “Hamna shida, (no problems),” he replied. I tried to tell him it was a fucking big problem but he was already walking away.
December 10
The semester before any national exam, all Tanzanian schools participate in a regional “mock” examination to prepare both students and teachers for the upcoming ordeal. The regional mock is not just another test; teachers from every school in region first meet to write the exam and then meet again to mark it. Our students sat for this examination in early November and now a marking panel has convened at Ndanda to correct them all.
I’ve come to associate inter-school examinations with chaos and an inordinate amount of work for the wazungu science teachers. I first arrived in Ndanda the day before the national chemistry practical; Erina was sick and nobody else was able to prepare stock solutions. My first full day in Ndanda was spent running around a rotting laboratory littered with broken glassware in which everything - chemicals, large bottles, small bottles, running water – was missing or mislabeled. Not coincidentally, many students failed that practical, and the school’s overall results were the worst in its 100 year history. Five months before I arrived, payment for the mock examination had caused student riots. For this current exam, the school failed to tell me about my work until the last possible moment; there was a public holiday and a three day weekend, and I had planned to go visit several other volunteers. I was standing in front of the second master with a leave form when he showed me this letter. “I think you should read this, and then you won’t need this paper.” Despite the public holiday, there was still work the next day, and instead of travelling I typed all the mock examinations in every subject for the entire region.
The grading session today went something like that. Yesterday another friend of Erina’s arrived. He works in one of the Mtwara A-level schools as a BAM (Basic Applied Math, taken by some science students) teacher, but his contract ends next Wednesday. He was sent to help grade BAM and possibly Advanced Mathematics. He informed me that the three of us were responsible for all the BAM, Mathematics and Physics students; no other teachers were coming because there are no other teachers. Repeat: there is not a single other A-level Physics or Math teacher in 300km. The immediate consequence of this is that the three of us have a ton of work, much more than any Tanzanian teacher, and we’re all pretty pissed about it. My headmaster, Mr. Lulukila, came into the grading hall this morning and saw the three of us sitting together. “The international table! Japan, America…” I cut him off and complained about the lack of graders. “Hamna shida, (no problems),” he replied. I tried to tell him it was a fucking big problem but he was already walking away.
I’ve come to associate inter-school examinations with chaos and an inordinate amount of work for the wazungu science teachers. I first arrived in Ndanda the day before the national chemistry practical; Erina was sick and nobody else was able to prepare stock solutions. My first full day in Ndanda was spent running around a rotting laboratory littered with broken glassware in which everything - chemicals, large bottles, small bottles, running water – was missing or mislabeled. Not coincidentally, many students failed that practical, and the school’s overall results were the worst in its 100 year history. Five months before I arrived, payment for the mock examination had caused student riots. For this current exam, the school failed to tell me about my work until the last possible moment; there was a public holiday and a three day weekend, and I had planned to go visit several other volunteers. I was standing in front of the second master with a leave form when he showed me this letter. “I think you should read this, and then you won’t need this paper.” Despite the public holiday, there was still work the next day, and instead of travelling I typed all the mock examinations in every subject for the entire region.
The grading session today went something like that. Yesterday another friend of Erina’s arrived. He works in one of the Mtwara A-level schools as a BAM (Basic Applied Math, taken by some science students) teacher, but his contract ends next Wednesday. He was sent to help grade BAM and possibly Advanced Mathematics. He informed me that the three of us were responsible for all the BAM, Mathematics and Physics students; no other teachers were coming because there are no other teachers. Repeat: there is not a single other A-level Physics or Math teacher in 300km. The immediate consequence of this is that the three of us have a ton of work, much more than any Tanzanian teacher, and we’re all pretty pissed about it. My headmaster, Mr. Lulukila, came into the grading hall this morning and saw the three of us sitting together. “The international table! Japan, America…” I cut him off and complained about the lack of graders. “Hamna shida, (no problems),” he replied. I tried to tell him it was a fucking big problem but he was already walking away.
December 7
December 7, 2008
The day that will live in infamy! Coincidentally, my best friend here is Japanese and in just this last week I’ve had five dinners with her and her friends. She has been talking about setting me up with one of her friends but I don’t think anything will come of it. I’ve been trying to learn Japanese as well, but I don’t think anything will come of that either.
Erina Niijima, like me, is 23 and came here after graduating University without really wanting to start a real job. Like me her future career choice bounces around a fair bit, and the last time I asked she was talking vaguely about being a travel writer. We eat together pretty frequently, it is much more fun to eat a nice meal with someone else than to eat alone, and we can eat full meals; maybe she cooks rice and I’ll barbecue pork or something. Several other Peace Corps Volunteers have Japanese counterparts but I don’t know any other pairs who are as close as we are.
Last weekend I went to Mtwara (perhaps more on that later) and came back with some tuna. I love Ndanda but I think I would trade this site for another one on the shore, near the beach; I’d like to get a little wooden dhow and sail back and forth during the evening, when there some wind. The two towns on the ocean near me, Lindi and Mtwara, both have fish markets on the beach. Fishing boats return to shore between 10:00 and 3:00 with a fresh catch. In Mtwara last Sunday they several large yellowfin tuna, a huge devil ray, a few other large fish whose name I’ve forgotten, along with the ubiquitous changu and dagaa. Fishermen were hacking the larger fish into steaks when I arrived. The Lindi fish market didn’t have the large fish but did have octopus, squid and tiger prawns, still wriggling on sandy wooden tables. A bag full of prawns costs about three dollars, as did a lenghth of tuna steak about the size of my forearm.
I put the tuna on ice and brought it back to Ndanda for dinner. One of Erina’s friends, another math teacher named Lisa, was visiting; Lisa lived near the shore in Japan too and knew how to cook seafood, and so we ate tekkamaki and grilled tuna in a mission town in Tanzania when the power was down.
I found Humphrey Mutaasa’s blog: http://humphrey-ndanda.blogspot.com/2008_09_01_archive.html
The day that will live in infamy! Coincidentally, my best friend here is Japanese and in just this last week I’ve had five dinners with her and her friends. She has been talking about setting me up with one of her friends but I don’t think anything will come of it. I’ve been trying to learn Japanese as well, but I don’t think anything will come of that either.
Erina Niijima, like me, is 23 and came here after graduating University without really wanting to start a real job. Like me her future career choice bounces around a fair bit, and the last time I asked she was talking vaguely about being a travel writer. We eat together pretty frequently, it is much more fun to eat a nice meal with someone else than to eat alone, and we can eat full meals; maybe she cooks rice and I’ll barbecue pork or something. Several other Peace Corps Volunteers have Japanese counterparts but I don’t know any other pairs who are as close as we are.
Last weekend I went to Mtwara (perhaps more on that later) and came back with some tuna. I love Ndanda but I think I would trade this site for another one on the shore, near the beach; I’d like to get a little wooden dhow and sail back and forth during the evening, when there some wind. The two towns on the ocean near me, Lindi and Mtwara, both have fish markets on the beach. Fishing boats return to shore between 10:00 and 3:00 with a fresh catch. In Mtwara last Sunday they several large yellowfin tuna, a huge devil ray, a few other large fish whose name I’ve forgotten, along with the ubiquitous changu and dagaa. Fishermen were hacking the larger fish into steaks when I arrived. The Lindi fish market didn’t have the large fish but did have octopus, squid and tiger prawns, still wriggling on sandy wooden tables. A bag full of prawns costs about three dollars, as did a lenghth of tuna steak about the size of my forearm.
I put the tuna on ice and brought it back to Ndanda for dinner. One of Erina’s friends, another math teacher named Lisa, was visiting; Lisa lived near the shore in Japan too and knew how to cook seafood, and so we ate tekkamaki and grilled tuna in a mission town in Tanzania when the power was down.
I found Humphrey Mutaasa’s blog: http://humphrey-ndanda.blogspot.com/2008_09_01_archive.html
December 3
December 3, 2008
I had a part for thanksgiving and thirteen volunteers showed up, making this one of the first things I’ve organized where more people attended than I was expecting. I had tried to get a turkey, but that ended in failure; a friend on the coast brought red snapper, and I cooked pork instead, along with stuffing and mashed potatoes. Amazingly there were pumpkins in the market that day – pumpkins aren’t in season, I haven’t seen them in months – and so we made pumpkin pie using Humphrey’s oven. Erina also made cucumber rolls. It turned out really well.
I had a part for thanksgiving and thirteen volunteers showed up, making this one of the first things I’ve organized where more people attended than I was expecting. I had tried to get a turkey, but that ended in failure; a friend on the coast brought red snapper, and I cooked pork instead, along with stuffing and mashed potatoes. Amazingly there were pumpkins in the market that day – pumpkins aren’t in season, I haven’t seen them in months – and so we made pumpkin pie using Humphrey’s oven. Erina also made cucumber rolls. It turned out really well.
December 3
December 3, 2008
I had a part for thanksgiving and thirteen volunteers showed up, making this one of the first things I’ve organized where more people attended than I was expecting. I had tried to get a turkey, but that ended in failure; a friend on the coast brought red snapper, and I cooked pork instead, along with stuffing and mashed potatoes. Amazingly there were pumpkins in the market that day – pumpkins aren’t in season, I haven’t seen them in months – and so we made pumpkin pie using Humphrey’s oven. Erina also made cucumber rolls. It turned out really well.
I had a part for thanksgiving and thirteen volunteers showed up, making this one of the first things I’ve organized where more people attended than I was expecting. I had tried to get a turkey, but that ended in failure; a friend on the coast brought red snapper, and I cooked pork instead, along with stuffing and mashed potatoes. Amazingly there were pumpkins in the market that day – pumpkins aren’t in season, I haven’t seen them in months – and so we made pumpkin pie using Humphrey’s oven. Erina also made cucumber rolls. It turned out really well.
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