Life skips on

4/3/18 - 4/24/18

A few days ago I realized that the kids spend their ample free time doing just one of a few things. As a child I remember becoming easily bored, so we had a plethora of different games to pick from. The Baobab children seemed shocked that other games existed besides their complicated versions of tag, hide-and-go-seek, and dodgeball. So far, we have covered cops and robbers, hide-and-go-seek tag, ghost in the graveyard and black panther. For tomorrow I’m planning a lesson on the strategical complexities of capture the flag and then maybe some toilet tag as a short break.

Today one of the kids came to steal my rake. I asked her where she was taking it and she told me she was “using it to make a tree house”. Extremely confused, I followed. A group of five had found the thickest, most tangled, thorn bush and decided to make a club house inside it. They broke off the largest of the thorns, laid a ratty mat down and arranged some box tables. We spent a good hour or so sitting in the fort. Luckily, I brought a pair of tweezers to Tanzania, because afterwards I got to remove everyone’s thorns.

We went fishing to try and get catfish for the aquaponic system. Juma, Shabani (a farmer), two Masai, two orphans and I set out across the fields on the far side of the road that runs by our farm. We walked through the grass and meadows, along narrow dirt paths, past small homes, some crops, little herds of livestock, massive trees, and a couple farmers. Eventually, we descended a hill to some mudflats and continued the trek until we were at the edge of a swamp. Shabani cleared a path with his panga (curved machete) and we followed him through the murky ankle high water. We reached a small island of solid ground and Shabani got to work cutting fishing poles and stringing the sticks with line, a small foam float, and a hook. He crushed large snail shells and used the juicy flesh as bait. Then we waded up to our thighs in the brown water. It was a little terrifying sinking into the gooey bottom barefoot in muddy water where anything could’ve been hiding, but oh well. We stood for 25 minutes with our rods, then gave up. Apparently, we had gone at a bad time, midday, so we returned home empty handed. Still, walking back across the soft fields barefoot with a cool breeze was definitely worth the failed adventure. The beauty here continues to surprise me at every turn.

I climbed to the top of the baobab tree today. I felt the energy of this place flowing through me!

Tonight I found the men cooking in the kitchen. They said they were making ugali with vegetables for supper. I was a bit confused as it seemed a little late to be starting dinner. Soon after I was handed a plate of cassava. Now, I was very confused, but I sat with the kids and ate my meal. When I went to wash my plate I found the guys still cooking. They don't like cassava (honestly neither do I) so they were preparing their own meal. They invited me to join and as I enjoy eating, I easily accepted. Since the kids weren't present they were adding chili peppers. When the food was ready the ugali pot was upturned on a metal lid and poured out like a sandcastle. Two plates of stewed greens (Matembele, I don't know the English name) with vegetables were ladled out as well. I should add that all the plates here are metal and have four separated compartments for different foods, like I would imagine army plates. Anyway, the saucy greens were overflowing all the dividers. All three dishes were placed on the kitchen floor, which I’m sure you can imagine if you have ever been in a school cafeteria. Except this one is also open to the outside. We all sat down around the plates and chowed down. However, the food was spicy as well as very hot, not an easy combo to eat with your hands. I definitely have burned off a couple fingertips here. The Masai warrior sitting next to me speaks almost no English so he would constantly say "pilipili sana" and "ugali matembele tamu sana" or "very spicy" and "ugali matembele very tasty." That was really the only way we could communicate. I would repeated them back, take another blistering bite and then the exchange would happen again. It was only interrupted by the quick intakes of air we each sucked to alleviate the spice. It was a blast and the food was so good. I forgot how much spice adds to a dish. They started putting a little ugali on the side to cool down for my weak American hands. Everyone was laughing, I had a great time.

Terri asked me to take a group of students and make some art to show donors. The prompt for the kids was “How does solar energy benefit you?” I spent a good deal of time gathering as many art supplies as I could and arranging them in an empty classroom. When I finally sat the kids down and started working I witnessed something fascinating. I could visibly see the difference between my elementary education and the Tanzanian system. I had set out paints, oil pastels, crayons, colored pencils, markers, glue, collage material, and other artsy supplies. Everyone grabbed a skinny marker and drew a house. Inside the house they drew a child reading under a lightbulb. As a caption they all wrote variations of “Solar power helps me to read at night.” Every single one of the eight students did exactly that, everyone. I wasn’t too surprised, I have started to notice this. Tanzanian students aren’t taught to think for themselves, or be creative, or clever. Even with art, which they rarely do, there is one right way, no room for lateral thinking. This can be seen even in the nationally renowned Bagamoyo Art College. Every artist coming out of there creates the same exact paintings, those paintings are found across the country, and only those limited kinds.

I had suspected I might encounter some difficulty with the task so the whole time I was constantly saying “Use lots of color!”and trying to push different mediums into the children’s hands. It hadn’t worked apparently. So I drew a picture of an alien with some oil pastels, crayons and charcoal. Then, I gave it a paper cutout dress with crepe paper flowers and a watercolor background. When I started splatter painting, the kids finally took interest. Soon there were students spreading out to other tables so they would have sufficient room. I was passing out watercolors, scissors, glue sticks and lots more paper. It was a special moment to witness. I was handed back eight unique, beautiful, vibrant pieces of art. The best part was the kids stayed to make another undirected masterpiece. I feel hugely proud of them and think it was one of the most successful projects I have pursued here.

One of my fourth graders has begun to read! She came to me knowing a couple letter names and not much else. We have worked through the letter sounds and she has almost mastered them all. Today I pieced together words with the letter cards I made and she started reading them. This was a huge deal. She was the one having the most difficulty figuring out the step between reading a word and sounding it out. We then sat down and read through a book, amazing! I haven’t been happier! I wish I could keep working with her everyday for the rest of the year, she has so much potential. Wow!!!

It was Friday so after school I went into town with a woman, Janeth, I became friends with here. She works for a Canadian/German couple taking care of their autistic daughter. Every school day, Janeth and Myla, spend four hours walking around the Baobab property and interacting with the students. The couple gave us a ride back to their home when they came to pick up Myla. They live in a beautiful house on the beach. I hadn’t been on the coast in that direction. It was isolated, non-touristy and gorgeous. We left our shoes at the house and walked to a small beach bar. The owner built his thatch hut around a large gnarled tree and serves beverages out of a cooler. I am so jealous of his life. We were sitting in his hut chatting when he pulled out a drum and started free styling. It was wonderful. We got some coffee and sat looking at the calm sea. Everything here is just so picturesque. We did some more beach walking then went to collect our shoes. At the house we were quickly invited for dinner and had a delicious meal of fresh bread, cheese, sausages and avocado tomato salad. I haven’t had cheese since Israel, I forgot how much I love it. We were enjoying each others company, so the five of us headed out to a local bar. There we discussed everything from Paul Bunyan to backcountry trails. I was able to glance a surprisingly different viewpoint on Bagamoyo and the people here than I have encountered with other foreigners. Paul, Lisa and Myla are just such good people. Eventually Myla had to head to bed, so Janeth and I visited some of her friends. They are producers and we sat in their studio listening to their music. It was really good and super professional. Then we hit up another local hangout and called it a night.

The motorcycle ride home was thrilling to say the least. The driver got a delivery order (Pikipiki’s serve as transport and delivery vehicles) and so we went to the store, then a house, picked someone else up, and dropped them off. All of this was on the twisting narrow streets, alleys and walkways between the buildings after a heavy rain. The driver was dodging potholes, weaving between dry spots and slugging through flooded sections. This was all at top speed of course. I felt like I was in a movie chase scene. A couple times I swore we would die as we sped at a wall only to veer sharply to the side at the last second. I’m pretty sure we were drifting at times. When we finished the errands, my man sped onto the main road out of town. As we whipped past other pikipikis, sand stinging my face, I caught some air on the first speed bump.co I quickly told him to slow down. I made it home alive and coursing with adrenalin. Maybe I’ll opt for a bajaji next time. Today I spent the morning cleaning all the mold off of my personal belongings. Love the humidity!

I found a massive centipede inside my mosquito net. I’m so glad I checked, otherwise this would’ve likely been my last night. After two and a half months of washing my clothes by hand, I finally got up the courage to do my laundry with the Mamas. Turns out I actually haven’t been washing my clothes. For over two months. Mama Elena quickly pointed out everything wrong with my technique, including the lack of suds. With my pride obliterated, I meekly attempted to imitate their hand motions while discreetly smelling the clothes on my body. Good news, now I do kind of know how to keep myself clean. Bad news, now that it is rainy season nothing can ever really dry so I kinda missed my opportunity to own fresh outfits. It has been raining for two days straight and there is green fuzz on most of my things.

I got an email from Terri today with a few cryptic lines at the end. She gave me suggestions in case I got involved in the “turtle case.” I asked the staff about it and found out that recently someone had realized the tortoises we are keeping are illegal. For five years one of the cooks has been trying to get four tortoises to reproduce so that we can sell the babies, but each time the babies die somehow or another. With poaching being a huge issue here, wild animals are under strict laws. Deana very forcefully told me as a foreigner I should not get involved in the release as I could suffer huge consequences if caught. I did some research about their natural habitat. We lifted them out of their little walled enclosure, in the center of the compound, and set them on the ground. Problem solved.

I had a funny conversation with Teacher Rajabu. He is one of my good friends here and we talk a lot about religion and politics. As a side note, he converted to Christianity from Islam by himself as a 10 year old, so lots of fascinating discussions there. Today we were visiting one of our favorite topics, Donald Trump. He mentioned how Africans used to always be so upset thinking “Poor us, we all have awful dictators!” Now, however, there is a new sentiment: “We are just like USA!” I headed into town with Janeth to meet with her employers and some of their friends. We went out, got some food and chatted a while. Paul has a safari company with his partner Alan. They guide groups into Saadani, a nearby national park. I had hoped to talk with them about maybe taking a trip into the park but they mentioned how flooded it was with rainy season. We made tentative plans if the conditions improved. Next we all headed to a concert at the local art college. The performance we walked into involved some wonderful Tanzanian dancing. I couldn’t believe my luck at receiving the invitation by being in the right place at the right time. We then headed to Paul and Lisa’s home where I got to go on a stunning night beach walk. I love this life, it is full of surprising, awakening moments! I’m starting to see progress with the readers. It is wonderful! I have been keeping a log of every meeting I have with each student. Looking back I am able to see how they have come along. I couldn’t be more proud.

My friend, Delphine, from the safari, came to visit me from her volunteer place on Zanzibar. Juma and I headed into Dar to pick her up. We got some soup and mixed intestines for breakfast. Then we walked around and caught up, it has been a while since we’ve gotten a chance to do that. We picked her up from the ferry and took a short trip to the fish market where all kinds of fish were being auctioned off. Afterwards, we headed to Kariakoo Market, the largest market in East Africa. It was stunning to say the least. We wandered and wandered through the clothing section, technology area, motorcycle parts street, vegetable underground, plasticware building, grocery tents, and hundreds of random stands strewn everywhere. I could’ve bought anything I ever wanted. Juma took us to his favorite lunch spot where I had mouthwatering chicken. The outside was seasoned perfectly with a crunchy skin while the inside was a melting, buttery, perfectly cooked, deliciousness. Tamarindo juice and a friend banana for desert. Then, because that wasn’t enough, we watched while a man squeezed us fresh sugarcane, ginger, lemon juice. Godly!

The next part of our trip was a little less indulgent. We boarded a Daladala, a chicken bus, where we stood packed in with 60 other people. I am not exaggerating when I say it was a sardine can, there were literally people pressing into me from all sides. I didn’t need to hold on even with the awful bumpy road, there was no space to fall into. It was frankly impressive. At every stop more people got on, and each time I thought, wow, no one else will fit. But we kept stopping and collecting and squeezing. I thought it would improve as people started to get off but of course only the passengers jammed into the middle wanted to get off. There was some unspoken rule stating that once you were on the bus, you couldn’t get off until your stop. So, instead of disembarking to let the exiting passenger through then reboarding the bus, everyone just pushed even closer together so the departing party could squeeze their way through. I really mean squeeze, I have the bruises to prove it.

The next morning we headed into Bagamoyo to walk around and explore. We saw the local fish market, beach and downtown. I was stunned as we walked out of the fry-smoke filled market to discover a section of beach and forest I had never seen. It was a beautiful site with ruins amidst the trees, grasses and river beds. I really need to come back to Tanzania soon, there is so much I haven’t seen!

We finished up the morning taking a bajaji to the Kaole Snake Park. I had visited the park when I first arrived in Bagamoyo but Juma and I had decided the entrance fee wasn’t worth the experience, so I never got into the actual snake part. Since then, I had heard amazing things about the place. Frankly, it was totally worth it. The guy that walked us around would dance in front of the cobras making them raise up and spit venom. It was pretty cruel, but to be honest, also kind of cool to see. There was a green mamba that I connected with. Whenever we walked past its enclosure it would climb up its tree and slither along the branch closest to the glass. It raised its head and brought it within inches of my eyes, as I moved it would swing its head to follow me. This happened three different times; I think I’m Harry Potter. There were also some birds. We were allowed to enter the pelican’s cage and chill with him a bit. Then we were handed a black snake. Our guide told us he was harmless as I pointed to the sign behind him stating it was mildly venomous. In response the guide took the snakes head and placed it into his mouth for a good 10 seconds. “See, ith wonf bith!” He said through a mouthful of snake.

That night we went to a club, sat outside, ate ugali, wait two and a half hours for my friend who never showed, and then went home. What can you say though? Here, standing someone up like that isn’t a big deal. Although, it didn’t help that the night before we had also tried to meet her and received a similar reception. On a totally separate note, I think I am starting to not only enjoy but prefer ugali. I never thought I would become fond of flavorless flour mixed with water. I saw a shirt that said “A hug without a squeeze is like a day without cheese”. Today, when I showed up to math, I was told by Teacher Rajabu that we had been asked to help the students write letters to their sponsors. I was a little disappointed to not be continuing fractions (I have taken over teaching the majority of the class while Rajabu works with the advanced students) but I soon found how enjoyable this new task was. I just proof read and marked up the letters, but the content was hilarious. Firstly, I found two girls who had copied each-other and not only had done the exact same Christmas activities but both had identical best friend lists, including themselves. Then, I got to read all the lies about how the students focused when the teacher was talking and how respectful they were to each other. The highlight, though, was the three sentences quoting the dictionary so the sponsor would fully understand what the student meant when she wrote about Mathematics. Rajabu and I had a good laugh. I’m going to miss this place.

Good news, I talked with the reading coordinator and I almost started crying. He told me that my little readers were all progressing through the levels. I had been assigned students based on their inability to get past a certain reading level. He told me his delighted shock when Irene, the girl who had cried all those weeks ago, passed her test. She used to be quiet and barely spoke to me or tried to figure out the letters. Now, apparently, she not only enthusiastically tries to read the books, asks for word cards to practice and made it to level C, but contributed seven example words during the class lesson, more than any other student. I can’t describe the feeling of pride. I am tearing up as I write this. Teacher Deo relieved my biggest fear that the little progress I was seeing during my half hour sessions was just my positive imagination. He thanked me for my work and asked me to come back. I couldn’t hide my grateful smile. I leave this glorious place so soon. I’m so grateful I was able to help someone, and I don’t know how I can walk away just yet. Sitting with Irene and reading through The Lost Puppy is now the highlight of my year.