"May God's blessing keep you always, may your wishes all come true. May you always do for others and let others do for you. May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung. May you stay forever young."
-Dylan
March 29, 2009
Today is my birthday. I am now 25... a quarter of a century. My friends, Adina and Kate, threw me a great birthday party at the Kibena Club with all sorts of Njombe friends. There was even a cake. And I looked around the room at people I have known for less than a year, but somehow realized how important they have become in my life, and I felt truly blessed to have met so many beautiful caring people in the last ten months. Still though, on my birthday, I take time to reflect over the past 25 years to the people who have shaped my experience and influenced my choices and I feel thankful for everyone I love at home.
In my mind, it is easy to picture the living room of the house that I grew up in. I can visualize the wood ceiling, the oriental rug, and the stone fireplace that always reminded me of "Beauty and the Beast" when I was a child. How I loved that room. It had seen countless family movie nights, birthday parties, Christmas trees, kids falling asleep under blankets and cats, forts, yule logs, amateur theatre productions, Halloween costumes and hugs. I always go there in my mind when I really miss home. I think that everyone that I love has been in that room. That room really represented my family: it wasn't always very orderly, but it was warm and inviting and we all loved to be home together.
Sometimes when I am thinking about my life, I remember my childhood. I picture myself in 8th grade, Jessie and I sitting in the back of Penny's Jeep painting our nails and listening to Jewel. Children and adults all at the same time. I picture growing up on Pattulo. I can smell the Tualatin River in summertime. Jessie, Jimmy, Jasmine, Kyle, Rian and I jumping off the dock into the murky green depths. I think of Rian and I in high school, sitting on his porch swing at dusk in the summer as slowly the stars start to appear and the crickets begin to sound. I think of my best friend, Noora, and the first moment I saw her on our first day at college and felt some sort of pull to be her friend. Today she is someone who always reminds me who I am and who I want to become at the same time. When I am with her I feel balanced and reconnected. I picture us swimming in Maui- I remember her smile, her strength. I think about Willowbrook. The field of my childhood, where I learned the lessons of an adult. I picture my little Hannah, my friend who can always understand and relate to what I am going through. We are always on the same page. I think we could talk straight for ten hours and still have something to say. It was with her support and encouragement that this journey to Africa felt like a good life decision.
I miss Reed's family almost as much as my own. His family is warm and inviting and they give the best hugs- it is like a genetic trait in them, or something. I picture both his sets of parents and picture them happy and enjoying their large families. Reed's siblings- Pete, Kari and Clark are like the three older siblings that I never had. They let me join right into their family and all three of them are caring generous people with great senses of humor. I remember what it felt like to come "home" in Eugene to Clark, Gwen and Reed. Gwen and I would lounge on the couch in our Oregon Sweatshirts drinking wine, or put mascara on in the bathroom for a big night out at Taylor's Bar and Grill. I miss Gwen and Clark like crazy. Then there is Reed- there is always thoughts of Reed. I remember the first moment I saw him and wasn't aware how- but knew he was going to be a major factor in my life. For four years he has been my confidante, my best friend and my partner in crime. Rollin' in his Thunderbird with our sunglasses on, me in my pink sundress and Potato (Clark's dog) in the back seat- looking for some kind of adventure. Reed and I are always looking for somewhere to explore. We look for swimming holes, pumpkin patches, good vegetarian food, hot springs, wineries, caves to spelunk, live music, waterfalls, movies we haven't seen, poison dart frogs, wild mushrooms and more. We just never had to look very far for someone who shared all our same interests. Reed encourages me to push myself through my fears- like zip-lining through the cloud forest in Costa Rica, which, I guess, is why when I told him that I was going on the adventure of moving to Africa for two years he did not stop me. This is not the same though, and I miss my boyfriend. Through the ups and downs of this exploration, I always wish Reed was by my side.
I picture our family camping trips with the Normandins and the Shaws. I remember what it was like to curl up in the "girls tent" surrounded by my sisters and the girls I have known for my whole life after a long day of swimming, sailing, and roasting s'mores. I remember standing on the stairs in Kappa Kappa Gamma, my sorority house, in my black dress and heels with my pin on to go down to Monday night dinner. I remember how my sorority sisters made college a fun and memorable experience for me. I think about the girls who will be my friends for life.
I think about my great uncles who I am lucky to know. My Uncle Bob and his chuckle laugh and his love of children and I picture all the love and support he would give these lonely African children. I think of my Uncle Frank and his ability to tell great stories and his example to follow your dreams and live an adventurous life. I think about my cousin Constance playing the piano and drinking wine with X and my parents. I think about her laugh which is infectious. I think about two of the women I most admire, my cousins, Tracy and Alex. They are both always working on something creative and pushing their talents to new levels. They are both beautiful and artistic and every time I am with them, I hope a little of them will rub off on me. My cousin, Janet, was the last person I saw before coming to Africa. Janet is generous, open-hearted and reminded me of the long family history that I come from.
I think about my uncle, Joe, enjoying the natural world. Finding peace in nature and I am inspired of the way he follows his own path like I am attempting to do. I picture my uncles, Scott and Thomas. Scoot is doing the "Preacher's Seat" into a swimming hole and Thomas is singing "Norwegian Wood" by the campfire. I picture them playing their instruments and teasing my sisters and I. My favorite thing about my uncles is when they would make my Dad laugh and act like a kid. I remember my Cousin, Brooke, swimming in the Illinois River. Every time I feel like giving up and going home, I hope for a little of her resilience so we can both keep strong together. I think of my cousin, Christopher's imagination as a child. I hope that one day I can write a book even half as good as one of his wild stories.
I think about my Aunt Noreen- who helped mother me through the coming of age dramas like breaking up with boyfriends and starting college. I picture her on horseback with my Aunt Jaime as girls. My Aunts who are caring women who love animals and being outside. I love to receive their letters and packages all the way over here. I think of my Aunt Lori, who always treated me like an adult as a child and listened to me like what I had to say was important and mattered even when I was a kid. She is an incredibly loving woman who has always wanted the best for our whole family.
I picture my grandparents and arriving at their house amongst the smell of pines and madrones. They get up from their chairs as my big noisy family comes in. I picture my Grandpa in his workshop and my Grandma reading quietly with a cup of Lemon Lift tea. I picture my Mom's family seated at Thanksgiving while my Grandpa says grace. After dinner my Grandma will beat everyone at a Spellbound game. Later that night, Shannon will do "beetle-on-it's-back" in the cellarium (Hilarious- if you know Shannon circa 1991) because we are too excited to be at my grandparent's house to sleep. I think about how my grandparents relationship, along with my parents, demonstrated to me what it means to love someone unconditionally, to compromise and what a good marriage should look like. Some of my happiest memories are with my grandparents who embody everything that a good grandma and grandpa should.
I think of my Bami. I picture us getting up early and burning toast and playing Monopoly. She has always been one of my best friends. I think of us trumping around London and me hauling her off to every castle we can get to. Somehow I inherited some of her adventurous, restless spirit- so here I am on my own adventure. My Bami has always believed that I could do anything- she has encouraged me to stay young, take risks and love deeply. But mostly to be myself. And I actually did come "A Zimba Zia".
I think of my little Sophie and Nicole, playing dress up together. I picture Sophie singing and dancing around. I wish I could curl up and watch "Sleeping Beauty" (our favorite movie) with them now. I miss my brothers, David and Jeremy. I miss their freckled noses and big blue eyes. I miss their excitement in the small things- snow, hot chocolate, a new toy... I miss hearing them laugh out loud at movies and watching their re-enactments of Harry Potter. I miss their bathroom talk at the dinner table and hearing them discuss how they were going to become "Planet Earth" photographers. I remember when Reed and I took them to the water park and I was terrified one of them would drown so I made us both watch them like a hawk. Being 15 years older than them is a crazy experience. They are always up to something.
Then there are my sisters- Shannon and Raeme. I was really lucky to be the oldest of three girls. I always tried to play the big sister role but it did not take me long to realize that anything I tried, my sisters were infinitely more gifted at. I loved theatre, but I will never forget seeing my sisters onstage. Shannon played King Henry and Raeme some old woman in their respective shows. In both I had to hold back tears of pride, and feel happy that in some small way they both belong to me. I watched Raeme exceed my skill at volleyball. I went to state for mock trial and then Raeme went to nationals. Shannon has always been a beautiful artist. She can do everything. I always loved to read and write but was rejected from advanced placement English in high school, where my sisters both flourished. I guess I set the bar, sometimes not all that high, for my sisters to leap passed. But with each of their leaps, I stopped to feel grateful and proud that these are my sisters. I think of Raeme as Mrs. Megason- pushing her shopping cart around and animatedly telling stories. I picture when I wrecked my car and she held me as I cried hysterically into her and she quieted me and told me she was glad I was alright. I picture the morning of my dad's heart attack, where we held hands and cried at the foot of his bed and wondered if our lives would be changed forever. Raeme and I are two peas in a pod- which wasn't always easy but I am thankful for it now. I think of the email she wrote me when I came to Tanzania telling me she was proud of me and how much she admire me and how I bawled like a baby in the internet cafe in the middle of Tanzania because I miss my baby sister. Then there is Shannon, my longest friend, I don't have a memory before she was in my life. Shannon is my partner in imaginative play. I think about how she was able to do everything crafty- just like my mom, which I envied her for. I could not sit still but Shannon could cook, knit, embroider, sew, garden and bead. She was domestic and patient. I think about playing with her- being mermaids in the swimming pool, Indians in the woods, pretending that we were famous gymnasts in the Olympics. I think about her today and how I am so happy that she has met Erik, someone who complements her personality and makes her smile. With Shannon I can be anything, but mostly, I can be myself, which wasn't always perfect, but I always knew she loved me.
Lastly, there are the two people who I love more than anything- my two best friends, or also, my parents. I still remember when I realized that my mom was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was in her garden clothes, kneading bread dough with flour on her face and trying to help Raeme with homework. She was doing it all flawlessly and now I realize that I should have told her right then. My mom is one of the most multi-talented people I know. You can ask her anything and she will know something about it. In college, I would call my mom everyday. My friends were rebelling (but I got this out of the way in high school) and I was cultivating an adult relationship with the woman I most admire. There are too many things to list that I have learned from my mom and no one in my family would be anywhere without her. She always has everyone else's best interest at mind. I realize now that she spent 25 years trying to make me happy. She is the kind of person who packs cherries on a picnic because she knows you like them best, or says tonight let's get bundled up and go see Christmas lights because she wants my little siblings to have the complete holiday experience. She would pop popcorn and make a movie night or suggest a family game. She worked hard for all of us and to keep us all happy and together. She was always realistic when I would call her with boyfriend problems and is never like many moms who automatically take their daughter's side. She would listen to me complain and then say- "Well what did you do to make him do that?" Which is proof that my mom knows me better than anyone else in the world- of course, her feisty, dramatic daughter is never innocent. My mom is a prime a example of someone who is everyday making the world a better place then when she got here. She lives through compassion, sensitivity and kindness.
Then there is my Dad. In a million ways I am a "daddy's girl." When Reed and I started dating, I remember telling Reed while we were carving pumpkins that my Dad is the best pumpkin-carver ever. Reed said sweetly, "I don't think I will ever be able to live up to your dad." I shrugged and told him that no one could. My Dad and I have some sort of common thought process. For one thing we like and are interested in many of the same things. For music we mostly like classic rock- from Tom Petty to Led Zeppelin, Janice to Dylan. We both find archeology interesting, as well as, Celtic Pagans, folklore and old poetry, Shakespeare and good movies- basically, we both "nerd out" on the same things. I think our undergraduate transcripts probably look very similar- both covering a wide range of humanities and arts topics and both very unfocused. My sisters and I adore our Daddy- he was the perfect dad for three daughters. He was willing to sing along with "The Little Mermaid", and to throw us in the pool while we screamed in our little girl high pitch voices. My Dad is smart. He is thoughtful and reflective. He is someone who can say to me out of nowhere "What are you thinking?" and always catch me in deep thought. While working at my dad's law firm, I realized that it is not just our family that loves him, but everyone he works with too, and all his friends. He is a great storyteller and people always like to be around him. My parents both have so much going on that I always felt a bit sorry that I came along to mess it all up for them, before they could fully realize all their talents. My parents talk intellectually, and they work in the dirt side by side. They have shown me what real love looks like, as they work hard on their relationship and on building our family. I think as you get older you are supposed to stop thinking your parents can do anything- apparently I still have not reached that point.
So on my birthday, I remember all these people who have shaped my life and taught me what I know today. For each of them I have learned lessons that have helped me to be strong in Tanzania and helped me continue to attempt to influence the world and make it a better place one small step at a time. Thank you, thank you, loving friends and family.
"Half-wrecked prejudice leaped forth 'Rip down all hate', I screamed Lies that life is black and white spoke from my skull I dreamed Romantic facts of musketeers Foundationed deep somehow Ah, but I was so much older then, I am younger then that now."
-Dylan
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Congrats Erik and Shannon!
March 16, 2009
My little sister is engaged to be married!!! Shannon and Erik have decided to be married this summer in August. I am so happy for them and for Erik to join our family. He has been a great brother so far and is a huge support to my family, and someone my little brothers look up to. And he makes my sister very happy. This means, without a doubt, I will be coming to America in August for a visit!
I am really excited to see my sister off in this new stage in her life, as well as to reconnect with my family and friends. The dates for my time home have not been set yet, but I will be in the Portland area with maybe one trip down to Eugene. (Have to be in my college town for a bit, see Reed's family, and my best friend, Noora.) Please, if you can, come to the Portland area while I am home! Would love to see as many people as possible. Let me know if you will be around...
This has brought on a lot of questions from my villagers: You can just visit America? Will you come back? and my Favorite: But you are first born, why has your father allowed your sister to get married before you? (This launches us into a whole discussion about how there is no bride price, no father allowing.... etc.) So, at 25, I am officially an old maid... but a very happy one. Love and miss everyone... Can't wait to see you in a few months!
My little sister is engaged to be married!!! Shannon and Erik have decided to be married this summer in August. I am so happy for them and for Erik to join our family. He has been a great brother so far and is a huge support to my family, and someone my little brothers look up to. And he makes my sister very happy. This means, without a doubt, I will be coming to America in August for a visit!
I am really excited to see my sister off in this new stage in her life, as well as to reconnect with my family and friends. The dates for my time home have not been set yet, but I will be in the Portland area with maybe one trip down to Eugene. (Have to be in my college town for a bit, see Reed's family, and my best friend, Noora.) Please, if you can, come to the Portland area while I am home! Would love to see as many people as possible. Let me know if you will be around...
This has brought on a lot of questions from my villagers: You can just visit America? Will you come back? and my Favorite: But you are first born, why has your father allowed your sister to get married before you? (This launches us into a whole discussion about how there is no bride price, no father allowing.... etc.) So, at 25, I am officially an old maid... but a very happy one. Love and miss everyone... Can't wait to see you in a few months!
News Flash
March 14, 2009
Random News from the last few days:
"My" cow had a baby. I should have known there could not be a cow that fat in Africa.
Kimulimuli, the descendant of Golem (J.R.R. Tolkien apparently did not know that he reproduced) and a naked mole rat who has put on some clothes, has decided to try to be cute. He is almost as pathetic as ever, but not quite. Right now he is playing with the only toy he possesses: his tail.
Siyafu (man-eating ants) invaded my house. I spread kerosene to keep them away, it acts as sort of a Siyafu fire wall. I managed not to get bitten this time- but the fumes are getting to my head and if I lit a match I am pretty sure my house would blow up. Juster informs me that Siyafu are enemies with poisonous snakes- I am not sure what I am supposed to do with this information. I am certainly not going to import a poisonous snake into my house to get rid of them... I would sort of rather not have either. Can that be an option? I have been told that there are two occasions I am supposed to run as fast as I can to the Mwalimu Mkuu's home. One is if the Siyafu invade at night, the second is if witches show up on my doorstep. (I am serious.)
I have turned into a mama kangaroo, except I carry my baby on my back. These days, Anna and I are inseparable. She is always tied onto my back and so I take her everywhere. When someone tries to take her away or when it is time for her to go home at the end of the day she cries. Otherwise she is perfect. She is the ideal age where I can pack her around, she is potty trained, she can talk, but she is content with the small things. I took her to the teacher's meeting and she was sitting on my lap and drawing at my desk. The next minute I felt her get really heavy and I had to catch her before she fell. She literally fell asleep sitting up. She slept on my chest through the rest of the meeting. My little secret is that I want to keep her, but luckily Mwalimu Mjemah (her father) is equally as in love with her and I doubt he will offer her to me. She has given me a great "in" with the mamas though. Even though, it is obvious that she is not mine, it is still connecting to all be walking along with babies tied to our backs. It also makes them a little less weirded out that I am about to be 25 and have no husband or children.
In other news- I am building a tree in my living room. Yep. My fireplace is gray rough cement and i wanted to paint it but knew it could never look good. I decided on brown because my living room is earth tones- then I realized it looked like a tree trunk. Now I am fashioning branches that will connect to the ceiling. I am also making leaves. It will be decorated for Christmas next year. My villagers think I am crazy to build a tree in my living room, but I might as well be a bit crazy, right? I mean I am living alone in a village in the middle of nowhere.The house is mine, but it is not like I am re-selling it or living there forever. Might as well have some fun with it. So that is my big house art project.
I have started to join a new village social circle. Maria, one of my female teachers, also runs a Mgahawa (Cafe- place you can sit and drink soda or beer.) I go there with her now in the evening sometimes. It is pretty much only men who sit around at places like that, but it has made me a lot closer with the male population of my village. I pretty much disliked male Tanzanians after getting mugged, but my village men have regained my confidence. They are going to be the start of my men's group (which at my PC site visit, they said a men's group was a totally innovative idea that they had never heard of a woman starting. Empower men to empower women, right?) Maria is always there and usually my Mwalimu Mkuu, so I feel pretty good about being there. I was going to walk home the other night and it had just gotten dark, my Mwalimu Mkuu was shocked and said "Brie, Remember what happened in Dar?" (In Kis) and I was like, "Oh, yeah, but we are in the village. I thought I was safe here... ugh." He said in English which he never speaks, "You are, but what would we do if something happened to you?" Then he made my driver (Stanley) walk me home. Somehow I inherited a dad out of my Mwalimu Mkuu- he is great. Stanley is another story- He has stopped proposing and now we have some sort of friendship, which is weird because he did not finish primary school, speaks no English, and is a Tanzanian male who is my age. He knocks on my door because he knows I like to go visit people, he won't come into my house without a chaperone and I wondered how I ended up in the 1800s... but good to observe boundaries. When we go walking he walks about four feet away from me on the other side of the road as is respectful for people of the opposite sex to walk, however, he still manages to ask me a million questions about America. He and his friends are all about my age and have no schooling and he is the only one with any sort of job. They just hang out all day and I imagine, sleep around at night. So little do they know my being friendly with the white girl, they are about to start going to work for me. They think that they are just having a good time but they are about to get an AIDS/STDS prevention earful. After that my plan is to basically have them help me by being peer educators for other men in our community. After all, what else do they have to do?
Other updates: My back is peeling, I may or may not have fleas, I have living off pineapple and home made tortillas, I had a dream the other night that I was in Target and I could practically feel the new clothes, but I woke up to the same 5 skirts and 7 shirts...
Random News from the last few days:
"My" cow had a baby. I should have known there could not be a cow that fat in Africa.
Kimulimuli, the descendant of Golem (J.R.R. Tolkien apparently did not know that he reproduced) and a naked mole rat who has put on some clothes, has decided to try to be cute. He is almost as pathetic as ever, but not quite. Right now he is playing with the only toy he possesses: his tail.
Siyafu (man-eating ants) invaded my house. I spread kerosene to keep them away, it acts as sort of a Siyafu fire wall. I managed not to get bitten this time- but the fumes are getting to my head and if I lit a match I am pretty sure my house would blow up. Juster informs me that Siyafu are enemies with poisonous snakes- I am not sure what I am supposed to do with this information. I am certainly not going to import a poisonous snake into my house to get rid of them... I would sort of rather not have either. Can that be an option? I have been told that there are two occasions I am supposed to run as fast as I can to the Mwalimu Mkuu's home. One is if the Siyafu invade at night, the second is if witches show up on my doorstep. (I am serious.)
I have turned into a mama kangaroo, except I carry my baby on my back. These days, Anna and I are inseparable. She is always tied onto my back and so I take her everywhere. When someone tries to take her away or when it is time for her to go home at the end of the day she cries. Otherwise she is perfect. She is the ideal age where I can pack her around, she is potty trained, she can talk, but she is content with the small things. I took her to the teacher's meeting and she was sitting on my lap and drawing at my desk. The next minute I felt her get really heavy and I had to catch her before she fell. She literally fell asleep sitting up. She slept on my chest through the rest of the meeting. My little secret is that I want to keep her, but luckily Mwalimu Mjemah (her father) is equally as in love with her and I doubt he will offer her to me. She has given me a great "in" with the mamas though. Even though, it is obvious that she is not mine, it is still connecting to all be walking along with babies tied to our backs. It also makes them a little less weirded out that I am about to be 25 and have no husband or children.
In other news- I am building a tree in my living room. Yep. My fireplace is gray rough cement and i wanted to paint it but knew it could never look good. I decided on brown because my living room is earth tones- then I realized it looked like a tree trunk. Now I am fashioning branches that will connect to the ceiling. I am also making leaves. It will be decorated for Christmas next year. My villagers think I am crazy to build a tree in my living room, but I might as well be a bit crazy, right? I mean I am living alone in a village in the middle of nowhere.The house is mine, but it is not like I am re-selling it or living there forever. Might as well have some fun with it. So that is my big house art project.
I have started to join a new village social circle. Maria, one of my female teachers, also runs a Mgahawa (Cafe- place you can sit and drink soda or beer.) I go there with her now in the evening sometimes. It is pretty much only men who sit around at places like that, but it has made me a lot closer with the male population of my village. I pretty much disliked male Tanzanians after getting mugged, but my village men have regained my confidence. They are going to be the start of my men's group (which at my PC site visit, they said a men's group was a totally innovative idea that they had never heard of a woman starting. Empower men to empower women, right?) Maria is always there and usually my Mwalimu Mkuu, so I feel pretty good about being there. I was going to walk home the other night and it had just gotten dark, my Mwalimu Mkuu was shocked and said "Brie, Remember what happened in Dar?" (In Kis) and I was like, "Oh, yeah, but we are in the village. I thought I was safe here... ugh." He said in English which he never speaks, "You are, but what would we do if something happened to you?" Then he made my driver (Stanley) walk me home. Somehow I inherited a dad out of my Mwalimu Mkuu- he is great. Stanley is another story- He has stopped proposing and now we have some sort of friendship, which is weird because he did not finish primary school, speaks no English, and is a Tanzanian male who is my age. He knocks on my door because he knows I like to go visit people, he won't come into my house without a chaperone and I wondered how I ended up in the 1800s... but good to observe boundaries. When we go walking he walks about four feet away from me on the other side of the road as is respectful for people of the opposite sex to walk, however, he still manages to ask me a million questions about America. He and his friends are all about my age and have no schooling and he is the only one with any sort of job. They just hang out all day and I imagine, sleep around at night. So little do they know my being friendly with the white girl, they are about to start going to work for me. They think that they are just having a good time but they are about to get an AIDS/STDS prevention earful. After that my plan is to basically have them help me by being peer educators for other men in our community. After all, what else do they have to do?
Other updates: My back is peeling, I may or may not have fleas, I have living off pineapple and home made tortillas, I had a dream the other night that I was in Target and I could practically feel the new clothes, but I woke up to the same 5 skirts and 7 shirts...
Dr. Seuss and Wachawi Come to the Village
March 12, 2009
I am exhausted. I only got eight hours of sleep last night. Yep, that's right, I said only. Usually I get ten. During training PC told us that we would need more because of our stress level, but really I think what most PCVs attribute it to is being alone with no electricity, you can only read for so long, this causes us to go to bed at the time of most five year olds. But last night I couldn't fall asleep. Sometimes I have a hard time the night before I teach.
We have been having beautiful nights here in the village. With a big full moon and a million stars. There is a huge owl that sits in the tree outside my house, he is there every night now. In the early morning around 4.30 am when I wait for our village car to take me to town I can see three of them usually. They all have their respective perches and they call to each other. Also, I have never seen so many bats as when I wait for the car. It is a good thing I love both bats and owls. The bats fly around me so closely their wings brush my hair. The owl in my tree and I have pretty regular staring contests, I don't have a lot else to do at night. Tanzanians hate owls as they believe them to be a bad omen, so I decided to freak Juster out. I told her about the owls I see, and she reacted in shock. "You see them!" "Yep." Then she told me that someone has put the evil eye on me because I see them and they hang out around me. It seems to me though that the owl is the only one with his eye one me. He turns his neck all the way around to check me out. Then he goes back to scanning the ground for rats, so I make a shuffling noise so he looks back over at me. I know this is distracting him from keeping the rats away from my house, but it is sort of fun and he is really smart. He only falls for my shuffling a few times before he ignores me. All is beautiful here. In fact, during my last sight visit PC told me that my view from my house was the most beautiful they had seen at a PC home.
So today I taught at school. Yesterday I spent the entire day translating, "Oh, The Places You'll Go" by Dr. Seuss into Kiswahili. I must say that I did take some artistic liberties though, it is difficult to find words like "mind-maker-upper" and "boom band" in my dictionary. I think a bit was lost in translation- but overall, introducing Dr. Seuss at a Tanzanian primary school was a big success. You have to put yourself in the mindset here. These children have no books, no teacher has ever sat them down to read to them, there is no story rug. So I decide to try it. "Oh, The Places You'll Go" I figure is a great life skills book about making good choices and believing in yourself and an insight into American culture. It also seems like a travesty to me to be 10 years old and never have heard Dr. Seuss, even if it is in Kiswahili.
The reaction was out of control. I was supposed to teach class 6 & 7 today, which can loosely be compared to sixth and seventh grade. However, while TZ children are more advanced in many ways than American children (Most of the girls will be married in a few short years), in many ways they are stunted somehow. So I worry they will be too cool for the book... should not have worried. The reaction was verbal- from screams of delight, to "Ah!", to uncontrollable laughter. I did not even have to translate the book, they loved the pictures so much. Excited conversation was sparked each time I turned the page. A little boy in Darasa Sita (Class six), who has always reminded me of my brothers (weird how Africans can act and look so much like Americans in a weird way) moved all the way around the class following me so that he could look at the pictures for as long as possible. It is difficult to show a picture to a class of 80, so I was basically just running around the room. I teach it four times in a row because all the class levels are split into two rooms of about 80 a piece. I don't usually teach in a row though but because no one else is teaching, I just do it all. I try to be like Miss Honey from Matilda today... I try to make the student's day fun. After I taught my four classes I figured that the rest of the school should get some Dr. Seuss too. So I taught every class today- 10 separate times of reading Dr. Seuss in Kiswahili. It was great I would walk into a class without a teacher and all the kids would do the "Yes!" arm pump-type response that is typical of American kids. As I read I would half the time I would expect to hear my Dad's voice. My Mom usually read to us, but my Dad's job was to read Dr. Seuss in a big booming voice that I tried to replicate.
Then I went home and fell asleep- it was only 2.30 but I was wiped.
Today Mwalimu Msanga asked me if I would teach Rebeca (Katherine's older sister) English, so that she will be able to get into secondary school. In exchange (I did not really need an exchange) she is going to help me around the house. I am really excited about getting to know students one on one and she is a really sweet girl who I would love to see do well.
After I got up from my nap, I played with the lost boys for a bit. This is my nickname for Clavel, Lau and all their friends. Being 3 and 4 years old, they are too young to go to school. So they spend their days running around in a miniature gang. They are the dirtiest bunch but so cute. Today they were running up and down our main dirt road, barefoot holding bucket lids like steering wheels and making car noises. It was like a tiny version of the Indy 500 minus the cars.
A weird thing happened today. The Mwalimu Mkuu came into school and said something to the teachers and they were all really upset. I didn't understand and Juster and Jen were both traveling, so there goes my English speakers. Mama Lau tried to tell me slowly in Kiswahili but Mwalimu Mjemah told her 'No, Brie needs to know. We must try to use our English." So then I had about 8 teachers attempting to string together what little English they could manage mixed with Kiswahili to get this story. Apparently some Wachawi (Witches) have come to our village that are from somewhere else. They are selling human hands, breast and vaginas. Right- I know. So many questions. It should be said that witchcraft is wide spread all over Africa. On Radio Africa it is one of the main news topics all over the continent. It is a huge problem here. Tanzania is particularly known for the murdering of Albinos. Usually their skin or body parts are sold or used in some type of potion that is supposed to bring the bearer luck, a good harvest or money. I begin questioning- "Human ones?" Not that monkeys would really be much better. Answer: Yes. Me: From Albinos? Them: Some are but some people who have the lines of the palm making an "m" (Mwalimu Maria immediately check my palm- no "m") Me: Why? Them: They will make money. (Ok- not the question.) Me: Why would anyone buy them? They have magical powers. There are so many things wrong with this I can't even begin. All I know is that this is a bit creepy. If it was just regular TZ superstition, I would be all for it, but this is weird, a little more serial-killerish. I am assured I cannot be mistaken for an Albino... so don't worry, Mom. :-)
I am exhausted. I only got eight hours of sleep last night. Yep, that's right, I said only. Usually I get ten. During training PC told us that we would need more because of our stress level, but really I think what most PCVs attribute it to is being alone with no electricity, you can only read for so long, this causes us to go to bed at the time of most five year olds. But last night I couldn't fall asleep. Sometimes I have a hard time the night before I teach.
We have been having beautiful nights here in the village. With a big full moon and a million stars. There is a huge owl that sits in the tree outside my house, he is there every night now. In the early morning around 4.30 am when I wait for our village car to take me to town I can see three of them usually. They all have their respective perches and they call to each other. Also, I have never seen so many bats as when I wait for the car. It is a good thing I love both bats and owls. The bats fly around me so closely their wings brush my hair. The owl in my tree and I have pretty regular staring contests, I don't have a lot else to do at night. Tanzanians hate owls as they believe them to be a bad omen, so I decided to freak Juster out. I told her about the owls I see, and she reacted in shock. "You see them!" "Yep." Then she told me that someone has put the evil eye on me because I see them and they hang out around me. It seems to me though that the owl is the only one with his eye one me. He turns his neck all the way around to check me out. Then he goes back to scanning the ground for rats, so I make a shuffling noise so he looks back over at me. I know this is distracting him from keeping the rats away from my house, but it is sort of fun and he is really smart. He only falls for my shuffling a few times before he ignores me. All is beautiful here. In fact, during my last sight visit PC told me that my view from my house was the most beautiful they had seen at a PC home.
So today I taught at school. Yesterday I spent the entire day translating, "Oh, The Places You'll Go" by Dr. Seuss into Kiswahili. I must say that I did take some artistic liberties though, it is difficult to find words like "mind-maker-upper" and "boom band" in my dictionary. I think a bit was lost in translation- but overall, introducing Dr. Seuss at a Tanzanian primary school was a big success. You have to put yourself in the mindset here. These children have no books, no teacher has ever sat them down to read to them, there is no story rug. So I decide to try it. "Oh, The Places You'll Go" I figure is a great life skills book about making good choices and believing in yourself and an insight into American culture. It also seems like a travesty to me to be 10 years old and never have heard Dr. Seuss, even if it is in Kiswahili.
The reaction was out of control. I was supposed to teach class 6 & 7 today, which can loosely be compared to sixth and seventh grade. However, while TZ children are more advanced in many ways than American children (Most of the girls will be married in a few short years), in many ways they are stunted somehow. So I worry they will be too cool for the book... should not have worried. The reaction was verbal- from screams of delight, to "Ah!", to uncontrollable laughter. I did not even have to translate the book, they loved the pictures so much. Excited conversation was sparked each time I turned the page. A little boy in Darasa Sita (Class six), who has always reminded me of my brothers (weird how Africans can act and look so much like Americans in a weird way) moved all the way around the class following me so that he could look at the pictures for as long as possible. It is difficult to show a picture to a class of 80, so I was basically just running around the room. I teach it four times in a row because all the class levels are split into two rooms of about 80 a piece. I don't usually teach in a row though but because no one else is teaching, I just do it all. I try to be like Miss Honey from Matilda today... I try to make the student's day fun. After I taught my four classes I figured that the rest of the school should get some Dr. Seuss too. So I taught every class today- 10 separate times of reading Dr. Seuss in Kiswahili. It was great I would walk into a class without a teacher and all the kids would do the "Yes!" arm pump-type response that is typical of American kids. As I read I would half the time I would expect to hear my Dad's voice. My Mom usually read to us, but my Dad's job was to read Dr. Seuss in a big booming voice that I tried to replicate.
Then I went home and fell asleep- it was only 2.30 but I was wiped.
Today Mwalimu Msanga asked me if I would teach Rebeca (Katherine's older sister) English, so that she will be able to get into secondary school. In exchange (I did not really need an exchange) she is going to help me around the house. I am really excited about getting to know students one on one and she is a really sweet girl who I would love to see do well.
After I got up from my nap, I played with the lost boys for a bit. This is my nickname for Clavel, Lau and all their friends. Being 3 and 4 years old, they are too young to go to school. So they spend their days running around in a miniature gang. They are the dirtiest bunch but so cute. Today they were running up and down our main dirt road, barefoot holding bucket lids like steering wheels and making car noises. It was like a tiny version of the Indy 500 minus the cars.
A weird thing happened today. The Mwalimu Mkuu came into school and said something to the teachers and they were all really upset. I didn't understand and Juster and Jen were both traveling, so there goes my English speakers. Mama Lau tried to tell me slowly in Kiswahili but Mwalimu Mjemah told her 'No, Brie needs to know. We must try to use our English." So then I had about 8 teachers attempting to string together what little English they could manage mixed with Kiswahili to get this story. Apparently some Wachawi (Witches) have come to our village that are from somewhere else. They are selling human hands, breast and vaginas. Right- I know. So many questions. It should be said that witchcraft is wide spread all over Africa. On Radio Africa it is one of the main news topics all over the continent. It is a huge problem here. Tanzania is particularly known for the murdering of Albinos. Usually their skin or body parts are sold or used in some type of potion that is supposed to bring the bearer luck, a good harvest or money. I begin questioning- "Human ones?" Not that monkeys would really be much better. Answer: Yes. Me: From Albinos? Them: Some are but some people who have the lines of the palm making an "m" (Mwalimu Maria immediately check my palm- no "m") Me: Why? Them: They will make money. (Ok- not the question.) Me: Why would anyone buy them? They have magical powers. There are so many things wrong with this I can't even begin. All I know is that this is a bit creepy. If it was just regular TZ superstition, I would be all for it, but this is weird, a little more serial-killerish. I am assured I cannot be mistaken for an Albino... so don't worry, Mom. :-)
Monday, March 9, 2009
My Village Dispensary
"To see things in the seed, that is genius."
- Lao- Tzu
March 2, 2009
This morning I headed to my village dispensary- I have been there before but today I have decided that I am going to get involved there. We have one nurse, her name is Jessica. Turns out that today is baby weighing day. There are about 20 mamas there with tiny little babies. They harness them up to a scale in a swing like contraption to measure their weight. Jessica immediately gives me more responsibility than I am expecting and has me do the weighing and record their weights on their charts. Most of the babies weigh between 4- 4.5 kilos. Afterwards the mamas have individual consultations in Jessica's office. Sometimes it is great to be a mzungu- I am allowed to sit in on these consultations and watch, despite the fact that I am totally unqualified to be there. So much for confidentiality in stuff. The mamas come in one by one with their tiny babies. The consultation consists of looking at the baby. Asking the mama some questions, mainly "Does the baby nurse well? Did the umbilical cord heal well? Do you have any concerns or problems with your baby?" and then telling them to come back in three weeks for another weighing. Luckily, the babies I see today are totally healthy and beautiful. After this I think we are done, but Jessica tells me "Unabaki hapa" (You are remaining here) .
Then a woman comes in without a baby. She starts to unwrap herself from her kangas (The bright fabric that TZ women drape their bodies in) and I wonder what is about to take place. Then I realize that she is pregnant. For whatever reason, TZ women are great at covering their pregnancies. I think it is partly the way that they dress and partly because they gain such little weight because they are still so active that only their stomachs get fat. So anyways, she climbs onto the medieval-type check-up table and I don't really know what I am about to witness, luckily, she looks too calm to be about to give birth. She is almost naked and I am impressed by her bravery as breasts have no sexual meaning in TZ culture and women are breast feeding in public all the time, but stomachs and low backs are an extremely private part on a woman. So I am a bit surprised they are so okay for me being there to see what happens behind the closed doors. For one of the first times here, I am really thankful to be a female volunteer. If I was a male PCV I would never be able to be so involved in the women's issues in my village.
Jessica begins to warm up her hands by rubbing them together then she prods around this woman's stomach, next she uses a tape measure to measure her from breastbone to pubic bone. The measuring helps to determine how many months along the baby is. Then we use a metal funnel like thing to listen to the babies heartbeat. Then we look under the woman's eyelid to see if she is anemic. Next we check her ankles for swelling. Then the woman climbs down and redresses. For her consultation she is asked if she has concerns, how far along she thinks she is, can she feel the baby move, and how many kids she already has. For the last question, if the woman says more than three, then Jessica tells her that is too many and she needs to look into family planning, this seems very progressive for my village and I am really surprised. Jessica sets a good example and proudly tells me that she only has one daughter because that is all she can afford. We see woman after woman all of them guess they are about nine months along, except one who says she doesn't know at all but she looks similar to the rest of them. All of them are my age or younger- it is none of their first child. At the end of the consultation Jessica gives them instructions on what to bring to the dispensary when they are ready to give birth- blankets, clothes, buckets... It is about this point that I am immensely grateful that I am not about to give birth in my village.
At one point between women, Jessica looks at me and says, "You can deliver babies." She doesn't even put it in the Kiswahili question format and says it instead like a statement. I wish at this point that I had a camera on my face- "Ugh... NO!!!" She tells me that she needs to teach me because she needs someone else to deliver also. I can understand this my village is big for only one nurse, especially with all the babies they are pumping out. However, I am having a hard time picturing myself able to deliver a baby in a Tanzanian village. I am so under qualified for that job, it is ridiculous to think about. I have never even seen anyone be born, much less had any part in it myself. In PCTZ, they really throw you into the job full-force.
At the end of the day a woman my age walks in and asks for contraceptives- what? She tells me that she has three kids, so she is done. Ok. Turns out my tiny village dispensary actually has contraceptives! All of the boxes of birth control and condoms claim to be gifts from different European countries, particularly Denmark and Sweden. However, every other box, besides contraceptives, proudly proclaims "USAID- From the American People," In red, white, and blue, with the familiar hand grasp logo. Only condoms and birth control are here from European aid organizations- thank you, progressive Europeans! I hope our new administration will do a better job of supplying what is needed in Africa.
Anyways, I sort of have a blast at the dispensary. I like sitting behind the closed door and getting to listen to every one's business like I am some sort of health expert. In over my head once again, but still really fascinating stuff from a cultural perspective.
- Lao- Tzu
March 2, 2009
This morning I headed to my village dispensary- I have been there before but today I have decided that I am going to get involved there. We have one nurse, her name is Jessica. Turns out that today is baby weighing day. There are about 20 mamas there with tiny little babies. They harness them up to a scale in a swing like contraption to measure their weight. Jessica immediately gives me more responsibility than I am expecting and has me do the weighing and record their weights on their charts. Most of the babies weigh between 4- 4.5 kilos. Afterwards the mamas have individual consultations in Jessica's office. Sometimes it is great to be a mzungu- I am allowed to sit in on these consultations and watch, despite the fact that I am totally unqualified to be there. So much for confidentiality in stuff. The mamas come in one by one with their tiny babies. The consultation consists of looking at the baby. Asking the mama some questions, mainly "Does the baby nurse well? Did the umbilical cord heal well? Do you have any concerns or problems with your baby?" and then telling them to come back in three weeks for another weighing. Luckily, the babies I see today are totally healthy and beautiful. After this I think we are done, but Jessica tells me "Unabaki hapa" (You are remaining here) .
Then a woman comes in without a baby. She starts to unwrap herself from her kangas (The bright fabric that TZ women drape their bodies in) and I wonder what is about to take place. Then I realize that she is pregnant. For whatever reason, TZ women are great at covering their pregnancies. I think it is partly the way that they dress and partly because they gain such little weight because they are still so active that only their stomachs get fat. So anyways, she climbs onto the medieval-type check-up table and I don't really know what I am about to witness, luckily, she looks too calm to be about to give birth. She is almost naked and I am impressed by her bravery as breasts have no sexual meaning in TZ culture and women are breast feeding in public all the time, but stomachs and low backs are an extremely private part on a woman. So I am a bit surprised they are so okay for me being there to see what happens behind the closed doors. For one of the first times here, I am really thankful to be a female volunteer. If I was a male PCV I would never be able to be so involved in the women's issues in my village.
Jessica begins to warm up her hands by rubbing them together then she prods around this woman's stomach, next she uses a tape measure to measure her from breastbone to pubic bone. The measuring helps to determine how many months along the baby is. Then we use a metal funnel like thing to listen to the babies heartbeat. Then we look under the woman's eyelid to see if she is anemic. Next we check her ankles for swelling. Then the woman climbs down and redresses. For her consultation she is asked if she has concerns, how far along she thinks she is, can she feel the baby move, and how many kids she already has. For the last question, if the woman says more than three, then Jessica tells her that is too many and she needs to look into family planning, this seems very progressive for my village and I am really surprised. Jessica sets a good example and proudly tells me that she only has one daughter because that is all she can afford. We see woman after woman all of them guess they are about nine months along, except one who says she doesn't know at all but she looks similar to the rest of them. All of them are my age or younger- it is none of their first child. At the end of the consultation Jessica gives them instructions on what to bring to the dispensary when they are ready to give birth- blankets, clothes, buckets... It is about this point that I am immensely grateful that I am not about to give birth in my village.
At one point between women, Jessica looks at me and says, "You can deliver babies." She doesn't even put it in the Kiswahili question format and says it instead like a statement. I wish at this point that I had a camera on my face- "Ugh... NO!!!" She tells me that she needs to teach me because she needs someone else to deliver also. I can understand this my village is big for only one nurse, especially with all the babies they are pumping out. However, I am having a hard time picturing myself able to deliver a baby in a Tanzanian village. I am so under qualified for that job, it is ridiculous to think about. I have never even seen anyone be born, much less had any part in it myself. In PCTZ, they really throw you into the job full-force.
At the end of the day a woman my age walks in and asks for contraceptives- what? She tells me that she has three kids, so she is done. Ok. Turns out my tiny village dispensary actually has contraceptives! All of the boxes of birth control and condoms claim to be gifts from different European countries, particularly Denmark and Sweden. However, every other box, besides contraceptives, proudly proclaims "USAID- From the American People," In red, white, and blue, with the familiar hand grasp logo. Only condoms and birth control are here from European aid organizations- thank you, progressive Europeans! I hope our new administration will do a better job of supplying what is needed in Africa.
Anyways, I sort of have a blast at the dispensary. I like sitting behind the closed door and getting to listen to every one's business like I am some sort of health expert. In over my head once again, but still really fascinating stuff from a cultural perspective.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Announcements
Announcements: Please please send me pictures. My picture wall is in full swing. My sister, Shannon, wins the award for appearing in the most pictures so far. (That is right, I have had time to count.) However, most of them are from her graduation, causing my villagers to ask me why she always wears that hat... haha. She is closely followed by my other siblings. Anyways, I want a picture of you, so send it.
Also, when I run out of things to say at the primary school it turns into a cross cultural America class where the kids want to know what America is like. They know nothing about it. I brought in a world map and they could not find the U.S. or Tanzania, for that matter, on the map. Geography is not really taught. They are interested in everything about America and the world. Americans can help me by sending pictures of American stuff- maybe the classroom where your kids go to school, a city, an American farm, what your house looks like... etc. Or send music, burned DVDs of child appropriate videos, postcards, anything that you think might represent America. It is best if things are coming from different states, so that they can see that America is diverse. The adults are curious too, just today my driver asked me if the roads in America are the same as Tanzania. (Answer: no, in TZ you drive on a road that is the equivalent of a slip 'n slide made of mud, in America we drive on pavement.) I get many questions about if there are black Americans and how many. If there is poverty in America and what it looks like. Also I was asked to tell the life story of MLK Jr. These are the types of things they want to know. A map of America would be nice to get, as well. Even a picture of a washing machine or a mop, they don't understand how we use machines for household work. I am hoping to start the kids on a pen pal exchange with my sister's class in America, but it is not going yet. So if you would like to write a letter to the students as a whole I can translate that and read it to them, and there is a possibility that we can write back. The objective of this is not to rub in what luxuries Americans have, so if I can do that while still remaining honest then that would be good. I do not want them to think that life is perfect in America and all Americans are rich. (Although comparatively, be thankful!)
I have been getting lots of email about what to send me. You are all so generous. I don't really need anything, but it is always great to get packages.
I like to get magazines of all kinds. Our NEWSWEEK subscription to PCVs has been cut due to budget cuts to PC. I like to get: Rollingstone, Time, Newsweek, National Geographic, People & other entertainment mags. Any are great to get!
Granola or Luna Bars or any "Fast Food' where cooking is not required. TZ has basically no snack food.
Crystal Light or anything to flavor water. It is nice to have variety and get that boiled charcoal taste out of the water.
Any beauty supplies- face wash, chapstick, lotions, cover-up... etc. My Aunts and Mom have been good about keeping me covered with this stuff so far. Thanks Jaime, Noreen and Mom!
Whatever else...
Lastly, I want a parachute. I know. I am not sure how to construct one. They are always so fun when you are little to dance with and play under. Any ideas on how to make one?
There is a small possibility that I will get to visit the States in August. My parents and I are hoping to scrap together the money. So hopefully, I will be in Oregon again soon. Miss and love you, Family and Friends.
Also, when I run out of things to say at the primary school it turns into a cross cultural America class where the kids want to know what America is like. They know nothing about it. I brought in a world map and they could not find the U.S. or Tanzania, for that matter, on the map. Geography is not really taught. They are interested in everything about America and the world. Americans can help me by sending pictures of American stuff- maybe the classroom where your kids go to school, a city, an American farm, what your house looks like... etc. Or send music, burned DVDs of child appropriate videos, postcards, anything that you think might represent America. It is best if things are coming from different states, so that they can see that America is diverse. The adults are curious too, just today my driver asked me if the roads in America are the same as Tanzania. (Answer: no, in TZ you drive on a road that is the equivalent of a slip 'n slide made of mud, in America we drive on pavement.) I get many questions about if there are black Americans and how many. If there is poverty in America and what it looks like. Also I was asked to tell the life story of MLK Jr. These are the types of things they want to know. A map of America would be nice to get, as well. Even a picture of a washing machine or a mop, they don't understand how we use machines for household work. I am hoping to start the kids on a pen pal exchange with my sister's class in America, but it is not going yet. So if you would like to write a letter to the students as a whole I can translate that and read it to them, and there is a possibility that we can write back. The objective of this is not to rub in what luxuries Americans have, so if I can do that while still remaining honest then that would be good. I do not want them to think that life is perfect in America and all Americans are rich. (Although comparatively, be thankful!)
I have been getting lots of email about what to send me. You are all so generous. I don't really need anything, but it is always great to get packages.
I like to get magazines of all kinds. Our NEWSWEEK subscription to PCVs has been cut due to budget cuts to PC. I like to get: Rollingstone, Time, Newsweek, National Geographic, People & other entertainment mags. Any are great to get!
Granola or Luna Bars or any "Fast Food' where cooking is not required. TZ has basically no snack food.
Crystal Light or anything to flavor water. It is nice to have variety and get that boiled charcoal taste out of the water.
Any beauty supplies- face wash, chapstick, lotions, cover-up... etc. My Aunts and Mom have been good about keeping me covered with this stuff so far. Thanks Jaime, Noreen and Mom!
Whatever else...
Lastly, I want a parachute. I know. I am not sure how to construct one. They are always so fun when you are little to dance with and play under. Any ideas on how to make one?
There is a small possibility that I will get to visit the States in August. My parents and I are hoping to scrap together the money. So hopefully, I will be in Oregon again soon. Miss and love you, Family and Friends.
"Nitawataka Kupima Afya" or "I Want to Test Your Health"
"Let nothing perturb you, nothing frighten you. All things pass. God does not change. Patience achieves everything."
- Mother Teresa
March 1, 2009
Sunday- My village day. I woke up to find a huge rat in my drawer, so I screamed and Kimulimuli was on it. That cat is fast but the rat still escaped under the door. I grew up with mice as pets but something about living with a rat in my food, clothes, etc. really freaks me out. I got ready for church, I think I have been to church more times in Africa than ever in America. However, I go for the social/integration aspect of it, not for any religious purpose. When I get to church, Anna throws herself in my arms- today she is in a pink ruffly number with pink studs in her ears. I spend the rest of the service entertaining her. Church goes like usual and at the end they make me stand up and talk. They do this now. I am not sure what the purpose is and what I am supposed to say, but I think it will come in handy whenever I really have anything to announce. So I tell them what I am teaching at the primary school and that this week I am going to start work at the dispensary. I mention that I want to have a village AIDS day, where an organization will come in to test all of us. This is met with no eye contact and nervous laughter.
Let me put you in my mind: I have been feeling useless. If I had wanted to teach at a primary school I could have done Teach for America and saved myself the trouble of learning Swahili, but I am a PCV, I should be doing something impactful. I have been placing lots of pressure on myself lately. Every other volunteer seems to already have all these great projects going- mama groups, orphan groups, their AIDS group is a choir that sings... My friend, Katelina, and I are the only two volunteers I know who wander around our villages and say the word AIDS and we get this crazy reaction. Either it is met with laughter, a comment along the lines of "No, we don't have that here," or "No one will get tested." No one wants to talk about AIDS. We have no AIDS group in our villages, much less ones that sing. In my village their is no mama's group and no orphan's group (In fact we don't even have orphan numbers). I am starting from scratch. It is interesting though, that Katelina and I are the only Health/Environment Volunteers down here in Njombe who are starting a site. Every other site has had a PCV there before, which I think is a good compliment to PC that they are doing something.
The one great things about being first, however, is we never get compared to other volunteers. In fact, I think my villagers would be happy if I just visited their homes for the next two years. That is all they really want me to do anyways. I could become a professional visitor. I get invited to homes a million times a day. If I don't go, than they always ask where I was. The problem is you can't just visit once, if you haven't been to their house in a week they say "You have become lost to me" (In Kiswahili). So once you have made some rounds, you had better start up again. So as I sit drinking chai in everyone and their mom's living room (Literally). I think about how I must be the worst PCV ever. I have read, not even an exaggeration, about 50 books. (Just read the "The Bean Trees" by Barbara Kingsolver. Highly highly recommend it.) I read like it's my job, however I am not sure it is in the volunteer job description. (Anyone know how I can be a book reviewer? That's a job for me.) At least I figure that I am making it easier for the next volunteer. When the village is comparing the newbie to me, they will say "Oh, you are actually going to do a project? Brie just ate lots of ugali, held our kids and went to the kilabu." So as you can see, I am starting to panic over here.
Sundays are visiting days and everyone is home. So I set out to work under the guise of visiting. I decide to haul Juster along with me to Mama Mary's home. I think Mama Mary will be helpful in forming a mama's group. We run into this guy and his wife on the way there. He tells me that he is Mama Mary's brother in law and she is not home because he is at a wedding in another village, but he and his wife would love to have us that their home. So we go. Turns out Baba Siefina is a childhood friend of Roma's. It's a small world in African Villages. He reminds me a bit of Roma too. His mother comes in to visit too, she lives next door with Mama Mary on the other side. Turns out his mother is the village chairperson's sister. Ahh, they are all connected and I realize that I am probably one of the only person in the village who is not related to almost everyone. About 50% of the primary school kids have the last name Ngoda. The conversation is the usual what do we eat and what's the weather like in America. Then they tell me that Mzee Ngoda, (my wizard neighbor), killed two people a long time ago to become the first chairperson of the village. Apparently, he just wiped out the competition. Great- I hung out with this guy yesterday and he is my closest neighbor. I press for more info- apparently he killed them through witchcraft. One fell off his motorcycle and the other started coughing up blood. Ok- so an accident and TB, now I am not so worried. The visiting is fun- they give me beans from their farm and avocados from their tree. (A great part of visiting is the gifts.)
However, as I go visiting house to house I feel a bit discouraged. I make a point of asking people individually about an AIDS day. What if it is a party? What if there is cake? Dancing? I can guarantee that there will be 10+ wazungu there. I feel like a carnie- "Step right up to see my white-skinned PCV friends", however, wazungu are always a big selling point with villagers. I can see fear in their eyes, so ask Juster- why? She tells me that they fear that other people will find out about their status (so much for a group), they fear knowing the results, they are afraid. But I am also afraid- as a PCV we are not supposed to be pushing our own agenda, but what if I think the agenda will help the community? I am a PEPFAR volunteer, I am supposed to be working with people who have AIDS, but I don't even know who they are. If this is not a desire of my village, then should I just give up and do something else? Juster even tells me that she and the rest of the teachers will not get tested because they don't think that they have it- thanks for setting a good example. Then she suggests forming all my groups- mamas, orphans, mens, people who keep bees... etc. and gain their trust and teach them the importance of being tested. Then the last month or two of my service having an AIDS day. This is clearly not going to happen at my pace. I am supposed to spend my whole service just getting people used to the idea of being tested? What am I supposed to put on my resume? Haha. I try to tell myself that it is okay because I am the first volunteer and the next PCV here can have the group that sings.
Still feeling disappointed I go home to make a pizza for Kimulimuli and I (That cat eats anything!) I realize that I don't have enough flour so I head to Msanga's shop. On the way there is a man I don't know, he is on his bike stopped in the road. I greet him in Kibena and he replies but then calls me closer. He lowers his voice so no one walking past can hear. Then he speaks quietly, "Nitataka kupima afya." Literally: I want to check my health. However, I know that in TZ this is slang for getting tested for AIDS. I can't believe it. I stare blankly at him. Then he says it again quietly. I say Ok, I am understanding you. I am working on planning the day. He thanks me and rides off. Just when you think no one cares what you are doing or wants to be involved someone like that comes along. Someone in my village actually wants to be tested and they want my help. I live in a region with the highest AIDS rate in TZ at 14.7%, and finally maybe my villagers will respond to that. If he wants help, than maybe more people really do too and are afraid to speak up. How many people would come if I had a testing day? I have no way of knowing. But I do know that is PCTZ just when you feel on the edge- ready to give up, then one small thing happens to remind me that it may all be worth it. Maybe I am being heard.
- Mother Teresa
March 1, 2009
Sunday- My village day. I woke up to find a huge rat in my drawer, so I screamed and Kimulimuli was on it. That cat is fast but the rat still escaped under the door. I grew up with mice as pets but something about living with a rat in my food, clothes, etc. really freaks me out. I got ready for church, I think I have been to church more times in Africa than ever in America. However, I go for the social/integration aspect of it, not for any religious purpose. When I get to church, Anna throws herself in my arms- today she is in a pink ruffly number with pink studs in her ears. I spend the rest of the service entertaining her. Church goes like usual and at the end they make me stand up and talk. They do this now. I am not sure what the purpose is and what I am supposed to say, but I think it will come in handy whenever I really have anything to announce. So I tell them what I am teaching at the primary school and that this week I am going to start work at the dispensary. I mention that I want to have a village AIDS day, where an organization will come in to test all of us. This is met with no eye contact and nervous laughter.
Let me put you in my mind: I have been feeling useless. If I had wanted to teach at a primary school I could have done Teach for America and saved myself the trouble of learning Swahili, but I am a PCV, I should be doing something impactful. I have been placing lots of pressure on myself lately. Every other volunteer seems to already have all these great projects going- mama groups, orphan groups, their AIDS group is a choir that sings... My friend, Katelina, and I are the only two volunteers I know who wander around our villages and say the word AIDS and we get this crazy reaction. Either it is met with laughter, a comment along the lines of "No, we don't have that here," or "No one will get tested." No one wants to talk about AIDS. We have no AIDS group in our villages, much less ones that sing. In my village their is no mama's group and no orphan's group (In fact we don't even have orphan numbers). I am starting from scratch. It is interesting though, that Katelina and I are the only Health/Environment Volunteers down here in Njombe who are starting a site. Every other site has had a PCV there before, which I think is a good compliment to PC that they are doing something.
The one great things about being first, however, is we never get compared to other volunteers. In fact, I think my villagers would be happy if I just visited their homes for the next two years. That is all they really want me to do anyways. I could become a professional visitor. I get invited to homes a million times a day. If I don't go, than they always ask where I was. The problem is you can't just visit once, if you haven't been to their house in a week they say "You have become lost to me" (In Kiswahili). So once you have made some rounds, you had better start up again. So as I sit drinking chai in everyone and their mom's living room (Literally). I think about how I must be the worst PCV ever. I have read, not even an exaggeration, about 50 books. (Just read the "The Bean Trees" by Barbara Kingsolver. Highly highly recommend it.) I read like it's my job, however I am not sure it is in the volunteer job description. (Anyone know how I can be a book reviewer? That's a job for me.) At least I figure that I am making it easier for the next volunteer. When the village is comparing the newbie to me, they will say "Oh, you are actually going to do a project? Brie just ate lots of ugali, held our kids and went to the kilabu." So as you can see, I am starting to panic over here.
Sundays are visiting days and everyone is home. So I set out to work under the guise of visiting. I decide to haul Juster along with me to Mama Mary's home. I think Mama Mary will be helpful in forming a mama's group. We run into this guy and his wife on the way there. He tells me that he is Mama Mary's brother in law and she is not home because he is at a wedding in another village, but he and his wife would love to have us that their home. So we go. Turns out Baba Siefina is a childhood friend of Roma's. It's a small world in African Villages. He reminds me a bit of Roma too. His mother comes in to visit too, she lives next door with Mama Mary on the other side. Turns out his mother is the village chairperson's sister. Ahh, they are all connected and I realize that I am probably one of the only person in the village who is not related to almost everyone. About 50% of the primary school kids have the last name Ngoda. The conversation is the usual what do we eat and what's the weather like in America. Then they tell me that Mzee Ngoda, (my wizard neighbor), killed two people a long time ago to become the first chairperson of the village. Apparently, he just wiped out the competition. Great- I hung out with this guy yesterday and he is my closest neighbor. I press for more info- apparently he killed them through witchcraft. One fell off his motorcycle and the other started coughing up blood. Ok- so an accident and TB, now I am not so worried. The visiting is fun- they give me beans from their farm and avocados from their tree. (A great part of visiting is the gifts.)
However, as I go visiting house to house I feel a bit discouraged. I make a point of asking people individually about an AIDS day. What if it is a party? What if there is cake? Dancing? I can guarantee that there will be 10+ wazungu there. I feel like a carnie- "Step right up to see my white-skinned PCV friends", however, wazungu are always a big selling point with villagers. I can see fear in their eyes, so ask Juster- why? She tells me that they fear that other people will find out about their status (so much for a group), they fear knowing the results, they are afraid. But I am also afraid- as a PCV we are not supposed to be pushing our own agenda, but what if I think the agenda will help the community? I am a PEPFAR volunteer, I am supposed to be working with people who have AIDS, but I don't even know who they are. If this is not a desire of my village, then should I just give up and do something else? Juster even tells me that she and the rest of the teachers will not get tested because they don't think that they have it- thanks for setting a good example. Then she suggests forming all my groups- mamas, orphans, mens, people who keep bees... etc. and gain their trust and teach them the importance of being tested. Then the last month or two of my service having an AIDS day. This is clearly not going to happen at my pace. I am supposed to spend my whole service just getting people used to the idea of being tested? What am I supposed to put on my resume? Haha. I try to tell myself that it is okay because I am the first volunteer and the next PCV here can have the group that sings.
Still feeling disappointed I go home to make a pizza for Kimulimuli and I (That cat eats anything!) I realize that I don't have enough flour so I head to Msanga's shop. On the way there is a man I don't know, he is on his bike stopped in the road. I greet him in Kibena and he replies but then calls me closer. He lowers his voice so no one walking past can hear. Then he speaks quietly, "Nitataka kupima afya." Literally: I want to check my health. However, I know that in TZ this is slang for getting tested for AIDS. I can't believe it. I stare blankly at him. Then he says it again quietly. I say Ok, I am understanding you. I am working on planning the day. He thanks me and rides off. Just when you think no one cares what you are doing or wants to be involved someone like that comes along. Someone in my village actually wants to be tested and they want my help. I live in a region with the highest AIDS rate in TZ at 14.7%, and finally maybe my villagers will respond to that. If he wants help, than maybe more people really do too and are afraid to speak up. How many people would come if I had a testing day? I have no way of knowing. But I do know that is PCTZ just when you feel on the edge- ready to give up, then one small thing happens to remind me that it may all be worth it. Maybe I am being heard.
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