February 27, 2009
Moshi – Arrived from Dar es Salaam today. Twenty Peace Corps volunteers are coming up to run the Kilimanjaro marathon, a big event. One volunteer booked rooms for all of us at a hotel, the YMCA, back in December; she also confirmed two weeks ago and again once this last week. Of course they had forgotten us and given up our rooms, so this volunteer (Leiha Costa) spent two hours arguing. The clerk smiled and didn’t help us, but eventually the manager showed up and like magic, extra beds appeared.
Arusha and Moshi are the two big tourist centers in Tanzania; the road between Dar es Salaam and these two northern cities is well paved, the bus lines are luxurious. The scenery is gorgeous, desert and scrubland interspersed with large sisal plantations and occasional rocky outcrops. The crowded, decrepit villages which mark the entirety of the Mtwara-Masasi area are mostly absent. Haven’t seen much of Moshi itself but so far it feels like Kisumu without bicycle taxis. Kilimanjaro is covered in clouds.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
April 24, 2009
I just started teaching this week. After a period of travel and a month of inaction the school year started without warning (classes supposedly began two weeks ago but the first day is pretty flexible). The school dropped all the math and physics classes on me, so I have more classes than any four other teachers combined. For the first time since I left America I feel like I’ve been working, waking up at 5:30 to prepare classes and standing in front of students for six hours a day. My situation has been immensely complicated by the erratic electricity (see below) – but we should get a mathematics teacher within the next few weeks, brining my courseload back to a normal level.
I find teaching material the second time around isn’t nearly as interesting, and I enjoy my form VI classes much more than my form V. Part of that are the students, the older students are more comfortable in the classroom, answer questions more readily… and there are a lot less of them. I’m not so impressed with the new ones, but we’ll give them some time.
I realize I haven’t update for over two months, ever since the marathon in Kilimanjaro. Mostly I’ve been busy, and when I have had free time the power was dead – for the last three weeks we’ve only had some six hours of electricity a day, mostly at night. I’ve spent a lot more time with my VSO friends across the street, partly because they have reliable electricity and food processors and lots of other goodies that I can’t usually get here.
Erina returned last week, but she plans on spending every weekend from here on out away from site – she likes traveling. My students are also gradually returning to school, if not to class.
I just started teaching this week. After a period of travel and a month of inaction the school year started without warning (classes supposedly began two weeks ago but the first day is pretty flexible). The school dropped all the math and physics classes on me, so I have more classes than any four other teachers combined. For the first time since I left America I feel like I’ve been working, waking up at 5:30 to prepare classes and standing in front of students for six hours a day. My situation has been immensely complicated by the erratic electricity (see below) – but we should get a mathematics teacher within the next few weeks, brining my courseload back to a normal level.
I find teaching material the second time around isn’t nearly as interesting, and I enjoy my form VI classes much more than my form V. Part of that are the students, the older students are more comfortable in the classroom, answer questions more readily… and there are a lot less of them. I’m not so impressed with the new ones, but we’ll give them some time.
I realize I haven’t update for over two months, ever since the marathon in Kilimanjaro. Mostly I’ve been busy, and when I have had free time the power was dead – for the last three weeks we’ve only had some six hours of electricity a day, mostly at night. I’ve spent a lot more time with my VSO friends across the street, partly because they have reliable electricity and food processors and lots of other goodies that I can’t usually get here.
Erina returned last week, but she plans on spending every weekend from here on out away from site – she likes traveling. My students are also gradually returning to school, if not to class.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
February 22nd
When I was away earlier a storm blew down my fence and the papaya tree in my backyard. I’ve given up gardening and was going to let it stay down, but my neighbor, mama Jessica, kept on pushing – I don’t think she likes it when my property is messy. She introduced me to this fundi (person who makes things), and the next day the laborer carried some logs to prop up the fence. He needed money for twine – I didn’t have any change, so I gave him ten thousand schillings (the total price for the job) while my neighbor’s husband was watching. He accepted the money touching his elbow, a sign of a respect for employers, and I knew he wasn’t planning on coming back.
On Thursday I came back from school and the fundi was there. Mama Jessica was yelling at him, talking really fast, and I gathered that she had searched around his village and forced him to come back to work; she was talking about calling the police and her own ten thousand and so forth. The fundi said he had a problem – they always have problems – but he showed us his back, scattered with big white blotches. I thought of Kaposi’s Sarcoma, a sure sign of HIV. The fundi fixed one section of the fence by digging ditches in the ground and tying the fence to stakes, then propping up weak sections with other pieces of logs. It started raining before he finished though and he said he would come back. He’s still missing, of course.
A couple lessons came out of this. First, never trust any laborers here with a single schilling. Most people are like that, they won’t pay back their debts to a richer man unless that man has some pressing problem, and in a sense money is (loosely) communal. This fundi was ripping me off completely though, charging double the going rate and then running away without doing any work. The Yamiseo’s had been getting on my nerves for a while, constantly borrowing things and yelling at me when any bit of the yard wasn’t clean; it’s good to know now that they’ll also look after me.
On Thursday I came back from school and the fundi was there. Mama Jessica was yelling at him, talking really fast, and I gathered that she had searched around his village and forced him to come back to work; she was talking about calling the police and her own ten thousand and so forth. The fundi said he had a problem – they always have problems – but he showed us his back, scattered with big white blotches. I thought of Kaposi’s Sarcoma, a sure sign of HIV. The fundi fixed one section of the fence by digging ditches in the ground and tying the fence to stakes, then propping up weak sections with other pieces of logs. It started raining before he finished though and he said he would come back. He’s still missing, of course.
A couple lessons came out of this. First, never trust any laborers here with a single schilling. Most people are like that, they won’t pay back their debts to a richer man unless that man has some pressing problem, and in a sense money is (loosely) communal. This fundi was ripping me off completely though, charging double the going rate and then running away without doing any work. The Yamiseo’s had been getting on my nerves for a while, constantly borrowing things and yelling at me when any bit of the yard wasn’t clean; it’s good to know now that they’ll also look after me.
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.
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.
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