Light My Fire

February 4, 2009

I am listening to my charcoal jiko lighting song, "Come on Baby, Light my Fire," Somehow The Doors just gets the stove going allowing me to cook my dinner of rice and beans. It is a weird thing to have all the time and no time at the same time. There are a million things I could be doing but nothing that I have to be doing. Days in Tanzania pass slowly, I will look at the clock and not be able to believe that it is only 11 am, yet moths pass quickly. I have already lived in TZed for eight months. When a finished service is 24-27 months this is already a big portion of it, yet still have accomplished so few of my goals. There is an ongoing discussion among TZ PCVs about which is easier: Being an Education Volunteer (like my friends Josh and Tally) or being a Health/Environment Volunteer (Like me and the rest of my group). The ed volunteers will complain because they have "real" jobs because they go to the secondary school everyday and teach a strict subject matter. They can't sleep in or take off for Njombe whenever they want. However, they do admit that there is something to be said about having a schedule and a specific goal. Then there is the rest of us... we create as we go. What do we really want to do in two years? We can do anything on any time schedule and hopefully we are connecting it to people living with AIDS... That is the only guidelines.

So instead of just having a job at the school given to me, I sort of have to go and "apply" for it. I had to walk up to my school, call a meeting with the head teacher and say in Swahili " I think I sort of want to teach.. oh no, only one day a week, maybe in the afternoon... I like my mornings free for RADIO AFRICA, yoga and coffee.... What do I want to teach?... oh, maybe something health or life skills related... Yeah a syllabus... I have not made one, I think I will just create as I go?" Then call a meeting with my village chairperson to say in Swahili, "I want to do an income generating project. Maybe with bees? I think I am interested in bees... No, I don't know anything about bees... Are you interested in bees? Do you think anyone in our village cares about bees?" Then our village nurse: "I think I want an AIDS Day. Everyone needs to get tested... Oh, they won't want to? hmm... well it could be a party and the admission for coming is a needle in the arm... oh, yeah it will be expensive.... I can try to write a grant. Oh, you want the testing to happen next month... Right, I will just pound out that grant." Maybe this type of volunteering prepares you more for the real world (unless you want to be a teacher), as it requires you to call your own meetings, come up with your own ideas and schedule, and work in a variety of settings. I am sure all of you working 40+ hours a week are a bit jealous- but this is an entirely new type of stress. "I know I am supposed to be doing something... but what?" Good thing that 75% of PC goals fall under the cultural exchange element. Culture, I can bring.

My first day of teaching life skills and health at the primary school starts off with a bang as I woke up with the runs (to put it nicely) and a fever at 2.30 am. My entire body hurt yet again. I pushed through the pain to make it to school where I taught (or attempted to teach) six classes each of 60-80 students. The head teacher and I thought it would be best to warm the students up slowly to having me (The Mzungu) run an entire class. So I really only explained the life skills approach, let them stare at me, and tried to be friends with them. It is one thing to buy a loaf of bread in Kiswahili but entirely different to teach a lesson plan in it. I can only force myself: sink or swim. I do a bit of both. It is about 7.45 am and I am about to go into my first class.. not sure I have ever been so sweaty in my life... Fever compounded with nerves. I am leaving the teacher's office when Simon says to me "Where is your stick?" I say, "I don't have one." Mjemah says, " You don't have to use it, but you have to bring a stick." And I say, "You know, I think I am just going to try it without." Juster says, "Brie, How will you control them? They have to at least think that you will hit them." I say, "I am going to try my way. Otherwise I will call for help." I know you at home are picturing it being difficult to control 80 primary school kids, but you are picturing American kids. East African kids are totally different. You are forgetting that these kids get no adult attention, so it will be mind blowing for them to hand out with the novel white woman. So I walk in armed only with a smile.

They are perfect. They greet me, they sit when I tell them to, there is no talking. I tell them what I want to teach them this year, and that I hope they will help me and be patient with me as I continue to learn Kiswahili. Eighty sets of eager eyes shine back. Finally, I tell them I want to know them too, so please stand up and tell me your name and your favorite thing to play. I can tell they think this is a bit odd, but obedience is the name of the game in the TZ school system. Many of them I can't understand as they speak quickly and hide their faces in embarrassment. I decide that self esteem is the most important thing that can come out of this, so I make a huge effort. I make eye contact with each of them, I say reassuring words, I nod, I smile until my face hurts... I tell myself just keep it fun and keep smiling. Despite that I am shaking with fear and messing up my Swahili (I just laugh and correct it... which gives them the cue that it is okay to giggle.) It turns out okay. Life will be hard for these kids, I will not be able to change that, but maybe they will look forward to my class and the time we spend together. After doing this all six times, I go back to the teacher's office in time to hear someone crying out and the familiar "Wap! Wap!" of a stick on skin. I turn immediately around, see Juster and tell her I am going home. I make it home in time to puke my guts out in my choo... which I imagine is a pretty typical response after an American's first full day at teaching at a Tanzanian primary school.