A Day with Dada Maggie

After church on Sunday, Barbara and I went with Dada Maggie, a woman who works at Loyola, to greet her at her home. She is building a beautiful house outside the city. The house where she and her family stay now is right on the river that was flooded (and always floods) during the rainy season. To get to her new home we took a dala dala (city bus), a smaller dala (like a eighteen passenger van), and finally an actual minivan. Something I didn’t realize is that there are hills just outside Dar, and her house is literally on the hillside. From there you can see the entire spread of Dar and its extending neighborhoods. The view was spectacular. The house was not yet finished. It was only the exposed brick, roof and window irons. The dirt in the surrounding yard was deep red and looked especially saturated against all the green that were orange trees, cashew plants, and a collection of other foliage. The sun faded in and out as thick clouds passed. It was noticeably quiet. Since kids were out of school they had been frequently knocking on our gate to play, so the relative silence was relaxing.

We spread out a mat on the floor and started the day with tea and chapati. Dada Maggie’s daughter had come with us as well. While she started the charcoal for cooking lunch, Dada Maggie lit a small fire outside to heat water for our tea. She picked lemon grass that was growing in the yard to put in the tea. They had brought chapati from home.

For lunch, we learned to prepare rice, beef and spinach. We made the rice with coconut. Since this is Tanzania, we started with an actual coconut, burst is open with a hammer that was around, and poured the milk into glasses so we could drink it. Then, with a device that is a small seat with a jagged metal spatula on the end, we took turns scraping out the coconut. When all the coconut had been scraped out, we added water to the shavings, and worked our hands through it to saturate the water. The strained water is what we added to the rice to cook. I have found that everything tastes better here, not only because the ingredients are fresh, but also because you have to work a lot harder to get the consumable product. The chunks of beef we cooked in tomatoes and onions and the spinach also with onions and garlic. It was a feast and we truly enjoyed, just the four of us, in her house on the hillside.

Greeting Dada Maggie has been my favorite visit so far. That hill side has become my new ‘happy place.’ Last week we went back to school. On Friday we celebrated Gonzaga Day, which included delicious food, student performances, a dance party, and lots of photo ops with my students. I was happy to enjoy the day with them. Seeing them relaxed and just being kids. Also these past three weeks, Erin and Alyson’s parents were visiting. They were so wonderful; relaxed and flexible guests which made their time here truly enjoyable. Hopefully this week will be a return to some sort of normalcy. Although I was happy for a month of rest, I am looking forward to getting back into a routine.

Pictures

The Gonzaga teaching staff when we went for a teamwork seminar.

 A view from the side of our house in the rain.

 Celebrating Sylvester’s Confirmation with his family at our home.

 A full river a few days after the flood.

My students, class three A.

 

My students, class three B.

 

 The Amani House Community, back at Christmas. (Me, Alyson, Erin, Barbara)

Ukulele serenades at the Jesuits. (Alyson and I)

 

Looking fly, rocking our matching Kitenge. (Mogisha, a Jesuit scholastic, Me and Barbara).

 

When It Rains...

We are in the heart of the rainy season here in Dar, marked by twelve hours of incessant rainfall. We came home Wednesday evening and it began to rain at four. It did not stop raining through the night so that when we left to walk to school Thursday morning we anticipated a muddy commute. The route to school includes crossing a river over a cement bridge. The river bed is about three car lengths wide and about ten feet down. Usually there is little water flowing so that we can see the sandy river bed underneath. Thursday morning the river was filled so that water was lapping against the bridge threatening to come over. I could not believe the amount of water. We got to school and went about the morning routine until about eight o’clock when the parking lot began to fill with water. The drains that run in front of the school (carrying water to the river) were too full to efficiently move water. Once the parking lot was about half way under water, we moved students who were in the first floor class rooms to the second floor for fear of the water flooding the school. It continued to rain. After another half hour or so the drains that run around the courtyard overflowed and flooded the assembly grounds. The older kids were recruited to help carry things from the offices downstairs to the upstairs storage room. They looked like ants carrying things from the lower floor offices up to the second floor and back again. The kids, who were meant to be taking exams that morning, were pretty restless and you can imagine a classroom full of kids without any work to do would be. The manager of the school arrived after some time, his pants soaked above his knees and his rain boots filled with water. The river had flooded the bridge and the road on either side.

For two hours the school remained like that until the rain stopped and staff was able to begin clearing the courtyard of mud and water. It was decided that since more rain was predicted for the afternoon and through the weekend, school should be cancelled for the rest of the week until Tuesday of the following week. Students were given their morning porridge and released. On our way back home the river was low enough to be flowing under the bridge but had clearly flooded the bridge, bending the guard rail with the force of the water. We arrived home and it began to rain again. It rained the whole day Friday and on Saturday the sun finally came out. Sunday, Erin and I went to mass at the parish near the river and were able to survey the damage. The banks of the river were substantially wider. The banks had flooded the surrounding area up to a quarter mile from the river, leaving behind mud and trash and debris. A house along the river was missing a wall with the corner of the house falling into the river for lack of a bank. Prayers are appreciated for those families who live along the river, whose homes were flooded.

A week later the sun has come out. My mood has improved and laundry is drying. There are only three weeks remaining at school before a month long break. I have become a lot less anxious about school and classes. My kids are (finally) becoming used to me and I to them. I still have frustrating days, but overall I am beginning to enjoy being in class. I have discovered a secret weapon, stickers! One problem I was having in my classes was some kids did not want to do their homework. I was spending a lot of time and energy chasing them and trying to punish them for not doing their work. So, I devised a homework chart whereby they receive a sticker every time they turn in their homework. After receiving ten stickers, they get a piece of candy. It has worked like a charm! I am still spending a lot of time and energy, but now it is to reward my students when they do their work and let that motivation drive the slackers to do theirs! I am really happy with it and the kids get super excited when they see me coming with the chart. I count it as my first teaching success! Another success that belongs to my students in standard four is passing their first mock examination! In my subject there were six As and almost all the rest were Bs. No one failed. I am proud of them. They work really hard and I was happy to see that hard work pay off. I continue to appreciate prayers for serenity. Know that they are working. I am feeling much more peaceful and comfortable these days. Peace.

Serenity

Serenity n. placid (adj. not easily disturbed, peaceful), tranquil (adj. calm)

Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

I spent a substantial amount of time over the past month whining about the fact that I had to teach over our spring break. On the school calendar it says students are on break from March 28^th through April 12^th. A solid two weeks off school that I could rest and relax and regroup. At the beginning of March I was informed that I would have to teach for at least one of those weeks over break…

In Tanzania all students in Standard Four and Standard Seven (Also in Form Four and Form Six) have to take a National Exam towards the end of the year. In order to prepare for this exam, Gonzaga, and many other primary schools, see fit to add time to the Standard Four and Seven school day. Our students in those grades are in school from seven am until three thirty pm Monday through Saturday. They also have classes over scheduled school holidays.

…I am teaching Standard Four in their Information and Communication Technology class and was expected to teach them over the holiday. My first round of outrage centered on the fact that I wasn’t aware of this extended teaching schedule and had already started to plan a trip for the first week of break. A second wave of frustration came when I was told that they wouldn’t know which days the kids would be in school until the break began. I thought this was ridiculous. In the US the school calendar is planned a year ahead of time and you are able to plan around that schedule months in advance. A final wave of desolation overwhelmed me when I was having a particularly frustrating week at school, felt that I needed a break, and wasn’t going to get one. This last resentment, I think, is a legitimate one. The others are a classic example of learning about and assimilating to this different culture.

After three weeks of being annoyed, frustrated, and sad, I was forced to accept that nothing I could feel was going to change the fact that I had made a commitment to serve this school and that meant showing up to teach when they required it. I was spending too much energy being frustrated and needed to change my attitude in order to be happy. As it happened I only had to teach for two days (two hours a day) at the beginning of break, and was able to go to travel like I had been hoping. Life has a way of working its self out. I learned a good lesson in serenity that I hope I can remember the next time something beyond my control frustrates me.

Courage to change the things that I can

Teaching continues to be a struggle. I think I have mentioned before that my experience teaching has been eighty percent classroom management and twenty percent delivering information. I think it also serves to note that one of my standard three classes is know by the school and all the teachers to be the most stubborn class at Gonzaga. Some days are better than others and I try to go into a classroom with a positive attitude. However some days are discouraging and I have been experiencing some anxiety around teaching. Last weekend I reached a breaking point where my anxiety and desolation overwhelmed me and I couldn’t stop crying. My community is incredibly supportive and made me laugh and feel loved. The best and worst part about that overwhelming moment of stress is that life must go on. It is a question about how I change my current ways of operating in order to thrive in this teaching position. At the current moment I feel as if I am only surviving, and survival mode is not a sustainable place of operation. I will be on retreat the first week of April and intend to bring my desolation to God in prayer and my fellow JVCs in conversation.

And wisdom to know the difference.

Many things bring me consolation in this Tanzanian context. I find a lot of joy in my community mates. We are a goofy and down-to-earth group of women who are able to laugh about the most ridiculous (both legitimately and frustratingly ridiculous) things. I am surrounded by children on a daily basis. I love my students and they give me love right back. I enjoy joking with them outside and even inside the classroom. I see God everywhere (if I am looking). Dar provides the most beautiful sunrises; those people who I greet everyday are happy and welcoming; children in the neighborhood run to greet me when I am walking home from school. I have a lot to be grateful for too. Our house is a comfortable and safe space; we have more than enough money for food and the occasional drink; I am supported by my community mates and teachers at school (who are another source of real joy and laughter). I can end with a story of one little nugget who always puts a smile on my face. The woman who runs the shop across the street from our house has a son who is between one and two (walking but not talking). This woman started working there around the time I arrived so her son was not familiar with the white people in the neighborhood. At first he was very afraid of us, running away or hiding when we would come near him. Slowly he warmed up to us giving us a high five or waddling closer to us out of curiosity. In the past week he has started to call out to us, “Auntie!” when we walk by. Now he has started to imitate the other children who run up to us to give us a hug. Just today when he ran to give me a hug I picked him up and carried him until we reached our home. He is fearing no more! And it makes me so happy to see his cute little face at the beginning and end of my day.

If you were going to say a prayer for me, let it be a prayer for serenity. Thank you! Peace.

A Bit About School

“ED-U-CA-TION FO LAV AND SE-VICE. GOOD MO-NING TEE-CHA ANNA.”

Every time I walk into the classroom to teach I am greeted by my students this way. The dialogue continues:

“Good morning students. How are you?”

“WE ARE FINE, THANK YOU. AND HOW ABOUT YOUUU?”

“I am fine thank you. You may be seated.”

Per an offhand suggestion, when I arrived, that I could change my name to something easier to say than “Allison” I decided to become Teacher Anna. Allie and Annie are both boys names, so I thought Anna was close enough to Anne (my middle name) that I would not be creating a whole new person, just adapting a little. Allison, as my community mate (Alyson) has told me, easily becomes Harrison as many Tanzanians, even in their own names change “l” to “r.” So I have become Anna simply because it is much easier to say. Though it may contribute to the impending identity crisis in the coming stages of culture shock, I am happy for now to be Anna.

Maybe I can tell you a little bit about my school. Gonzaga Primary School opened in 2007. One story goes like this: There was man in the neighborhood of Mabibo who was bringing together a collection of children who weren’t in school and teaching them. These children, for whatever reason, were not attending school. The location of their makeshift school changed every day based on the availability of space around the neighborhood. Often they would come together in a bar that was vacant in the morning hours. A Jesuit father (I am assuming he was living at the residence at Loyola) got wind of this man teaching these children and was motivated to create a Jesuit primary school to provide an opportunity for these children to have a traditional education.

Gonzaga is an English medium school so all subjects, with the exception of Kiswahili, are taught in English. The students are not allowed to speak Kiswahili at school. Grades are called Standards and Gonzaga has Pre-Standard One up to Standard Seven. There are fifteen teachers who teach an array of subjects and standards. There are two streams, A and B, for each standard and the students stay in the same class all day while the teachers rotate around. There are nine forty minute periods with a break for tea and lunch and recess.

The first five weeks were really challenging. I am not a teacher, nor am I trained as a teacher, nor do I have any experience in the classroom, plus I don’t use corporal punishment. All these things together made my first few weeks an uphill battle. My students, as anyone would expect them to do, pushed all the limits to see what they were going to be able to get away with. I can’t say I did a very good job of managing them and still have a hard time keeping them quiet long enough to teach a lesson. I would say my job is eighty percent classroom management and twenty percent teaching, neither of which I am very good at.

The ultimate wreck of a week came three weeks ago when I was "teacher on duty". I and another teacher were assigned to be in charge of keeping the school quiet and in order, especially during those times when students are moving around.  It was not a successful week, to say the least, and I came home everyday feeling exhausted (more so than usual) physically and emotionally. At the end of that week I felt that I needed to reevaluate my priorities as I was approaching burnout fast (props to my community mate Alyson for naming that and expressing her concern!). 

Why am I here? I am filling a need as an English teacher, yes, but is that what should determine a successful or productive or life giving day? No. I am here to be in solidarity with those people who I am serving. I am here to listen and to love. It is most important that my kids know that I love them; That they are loved and cared about and important.

Reorganizing my priorities and adjusting my attitude started a corner around which going to school has become much more bearable. I still struggle to keep my class quiet for very long, but I am pretty sure they like me and they know I like them. There is one student in particular who has caused me a lot of grief in class. He is starved for attention and seeks it in all the wrong ways. This past Friday I held him back from lunch to finish his homework (again) and when he was finished I thanked him and wished him a good weekend. He said, “Well teacher that will depend on you.” I asked him what he meant, how I could contribute to his having a good weekend. He said, “If you come again to visit me at my home it will be a good weekend.” I about started crying then and there. This little nugget has given me so much trouble and tested my patience to the breaking point, but he gave me a lot of joy in that moment. That is why I am here. 

A Very Good Day

Last Saturday proved to be a really great day. You may not know this about me, buy I am the most productive procrastinator you will meet. Hence, my Saturday. I had three lessons to plan and zero desire to start them, so, I began my laundry. I have devised a strategy for my laundry. The first load is underwear for which I boil water, the second is Khanga, the colorful and patterned fabric with which you can have outfits made and also use as a wrap for going around the neighborhood (which also bleed like crazy, hence their own load), the third load is everything else, shirts, leggings, and skirts. For each load I throw the clothes in a bucket, add water and soap, and let it soak for about thirty minutes. Then I fill another bucket with soapy water and, one article at a time, scrub out the dirt, throwing it into a third bucket to rinse. Once all the clothes are in the rinse bucket you wring them out and hang them on the line. The process is methodical and there is something incredibly satisfying about seeing how dirty the first bucket is to how clean (at least they smell clean and that is all that really matters) the clothes become.

After the three loads of laundry were hung I moved on to bathroom duty. The bathroom is not so big and therefore pretty easy to clean. I filled a bucket with soapy water and wiped down the toilet, seat and  also walls in the bathroom, scrubbed the bowl, and finally poured the remaining water onto the floor which I then squeegeed out of the bathroom down the hall and outside (as close as we come to mopping).

Still unwilling to start lesson planning, I began my chore of the week which was to sweep and mop the floors. Around two in the afternoon, Alyson and I headed to the Missionaries of Charity site about a thirty minute walk from our house. I was interested to visit this place that has been a source of real joy for her in the past year.

This home is caring for the poorest of the poor, in the spirit (obviously) of Mother Theresa. The sisters are caring for the elderly, crippled, disabled and orphaned. It was a beautiful place in more than one way. There is a large courtyard around which are couches for the residence to sit. Alyson and I made our way to each couch to greet the residents and hear how they are and what news they had. Let me clarify. While I am mostly able to greet in Kiswahili, I spent a lot of the time observing and smiling while Alyson, who is far more proficient in Kiswahili, talked with her friends and informed me how they are. It was a beautifully humbling moment to live out the JVC mission of sitting in solidarity with the members of the community. I could do nothing but sit, smile, love, and feel loved. We made our way back through the courtyard to visit with the younger residence who are somehow disabled. I really enjoyed myself playing football with them and throwing the ball around back and forth. Again, I was unable to communicate with them, but the universal language of smiles and gestures was enough. They generously gave me a gift of coconut biscuits, which are delicious. Those were the boys, then we went to visit the girls who were also excited to see Alyson. We brought books with us so we passed some around and I was reading a Kiswahili book to one of the girls. What a beautiful mission, to graciously and joyfully serve those who would have little to nothing otherwise. When we left, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I had found God  and look forward to returning.

Our Saturday night dinner tradition is to buy chips mayai, essentially French fries scrambled in eggs garnished with cooked cabbage and veggies. We watched a movie and read “snaps,” a collection of affirmations for each other from the week. I felt both accomplished and graced at the end of the day. It is good to have a routine, to have things that need to get done and be able to accomplish them with out too much trouble.

In other updates, life in Tanzania is good. School is hard, really hard, but I have a supportive community at home, in the teachers at school, and in the Jesuits that I feel able to grow in the challenges instead of becoming stuck in despair. Yesterday I went out to buy vegetables and eggs all by myself, which is a big deal because I speak all in Kiswahili to our vendors.  I am happy and healthy and can’t believe I am coming up on two months in country! As always, please email me with updates and stories from your own life. Peace be with you.

Amani,

Allison