Kiswahili in Morogoro

For the past six weeks I have been studying Kiswahili in the town of Morogoro.  Although this town is not graced with the beautiful view of Lake Victoria, it is not lacking in natural splendor.  Morogoro is located at the base of the Uluguru Mountains – a range that is part of the Eastern Arc Mountain Chain.  Unfortunately the area around Morogoro has been largely deforested, but the Eastern Arc Mountain Chain is known for its rainforests as well as its endemic and rare species of birds and plants (it is in this chain that the African violet originated). 

            Language classes take place in the school’s outdoor classrooms in the shadow of the peaks, sometimes making it very hard to concentrate.  The campus is studded with baobab trees – something I have always wanted to see ever since I read Le Petit Prince in High School French class.  Sometimes called the “upside down tree” because it’s branches look like tree roots, this tree can grow to huge diameters (which I will show with pictures when I get back to Bukoba).

            This area of Tanzania is also home to the Maasai tribe.  While studying the language, I have also had the chance to attend a Maasai service in one of the villages.  The church was simply built – branches lashed together, the spaces between filled with mud and several left open to let in light and air.  The congregation in attendance was small and mostly women dressed in their tradition purple or red cloth, ears pierced and stretched with white beaded jewelry jingling from their ears, necks, wrists and ankles.  This was particularly impressive when the choir sang.  Singing and dancing, all their jewelry further emphasized their intricate and catchy rhythms. 

Most of the men were absent because of the drought.  The Maasai are dependent on their cattle for their livelihood and consequently the men have wandered farther and farther from their homes in order to find sources of drinking water. 

            After the service, we visited the house of one of the language school teachers.  His mother showed us how to make traditional Maasai beaded jewelry.  We sat on mats on the floor of her home as she showed us how to bead and even sowed bracelets onto our wrists such that I don’t think mine will be coming off any time soon.

            Since this first encounter with the Maasai, I have since discovered the street corner where all the Maasai women sit and bead all day.  I have always loved to look at jewelry, and they always greet with a friendly smile and hello, encouraging me to use my Swahili.  When I talk with them, I have no choice but to use Swahili, as they don’t know any English.  Fortunately they are very patient and love to laugh.  Our most recent conversation covered the topic of animals.  Testing my knowledge of the names of the animals in Swahili, they asked if I knew what “Ng’ombe” was.  Thrilled that I had recognized the word, I responded with a yes – a cow.  Since they seemed unconvinced of my actually knowing what it was, I demonstrated by making the sound of a cow ("Moooo").  To which I was greeted with gales of laughter.  The Mama that was sitting next to me and with whom I was speaking burst out laughing, rocking back and forth and then had to imitate my cow sound.  She then wanted to know if I knew “kuku” (chicken) and I said yes again and paused, while she waited expectantly.  Finally I obliged by demonstrating with a “bruck bruck bruck”.  Her response was identical if not more hearty and appreciative.  After laughing she tried several times to imitate my chicken sound.  And then had to go back and imitate my mooing too.  I’m sure she was thinking “this crazy American…”, but I’m learning Swahili and laughing, and so are they (I’m not sure whether with or at me sometimes), so I love stopping by whenever I can.  Tomorrow I am supposed to go and show one of the women my bead work – I don’t know that she really convinced that I know how to bead and wants to see my attempt!

            In less than a week I will be on the road again.  I will be traveling to do some hiking in the rainforests of the Eastern Arc Mountain Chain, and then on to the Island of Zanzibar to spend Christmas sampling spices and exploring the renowned beaches with friends.  This may be my last post before the Christmas and New Year holidays, so I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Fresh Fish

Several times a week, a man selling fish arrives by bicycle at the school.  One of the teachers catching my glance towards the fish he was displaying asked if I would like a fish for dinner.  Admitting that it would be nice but that I had no idea how to choose, Teacher Berna took charge.  Sending me inside she said she would bargain for my fish (I think she could get a better price if the mzungu wasn’t present!).  Several minutes later, she came inside and in a very mockingly serious voice announced that it would be 2,500 Tsh, but that it was a VERY large fish.  The fish was huge.  Teacher Berna took it to the kitchen and had them gut it for me, and then she handed me the fish holding it by some palm fibers that were tied through its mouth and gills.  I had no idea what to do with it until Ester, an older Mama who helps me with cooking and cleaning, could come and prepare it for dinner.  Searching through my kitchen, all my containers were too small to fit such an enormous fish.  Finally I settled on my only frying pan, laying the fish in it, the head sticking out on one side and the tail out the other.  Both pan and fish went into the fridge, although only after one of the shelves had been cleared off entirely.  Ester arrived in the afternoon and I showed her my fridge, opening the door to display the fish that fit just barely inside as well as its inadequate container, my frying pan.  I couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculous picture.  She seemed to take it in stride, asking how I would like to have it prepared and donning the apron that she usually wears. 

I thought that my surprises with the fish were pretty well over at that point.  I was wrong.  Coming into the kitchen to watch Ester  – she is a great cook and I like to learn from her - I found her attacking my fish with my largest knife, raising the knife up high and bring it down on the backbone behind the head of the fish.  The backbone seemed to momentarily defy both chef and knife, only giving in to Ester’s brute strength as she used both her hands to twist the head off.  Not knowing whether to look shocked or impressed I decided to leave it all in Ester’s capable hands.  As I turned to leave she asked if I wanted to make a fish head soup with the head on Saturday.  Having just watched her struggle, and having had quite enough surprises, I decided to opt out of that particular cooking adventure.  Using my basic Swahili I gave her the fish head, a trophy for her epic battle with the fish (the fish head is considered to be a delicacy here, particularly the eyes and the meat found right behind them). 

The meal that evening was spectacular – fish baked in the oven with a creamy tomato sauce and tomato slices placed artistically on top along with chips (French fries) and salad.  I opened a bottle of wine in honor of the occasion and felt like I was eating at a five star restaurant!

Fun with Finding Nemo

Perhaps some of you are familiar with the movie “Finding Nemo”.  If you are wondering what relevance a movie about a talking clown fish has to my time in Tanzania, I promise, it is relevant!  For the last several weeks I have been teaching Vocational Skills to standard 3.  Although initially nervous about being in charge of a classroom, they made teaching a joy.  Sometimes they were noisy and boisterous, but they were always eager to learn (often wanting to know what all my props were before we even set foot in the classroom).  Not only were they eager to learn, they were eager to help me teach them in any way possible.  Telling each other to “be quiet and listen to the Teacher” was common (and sometimes louder than the original disturbance).  I even received helpful suggestions such as: “Teacher, show us the demonstration a row at a time so that we can gather around and see”.  Trying this suggestion once, I was so impressed, that they all worked quietly on their projects so that I could focus on each group.

As a thank you for being such a wonderful class, I decided to throw a movie party at my home featuring the film “Finding Nemo”.   The cheering and clapping was evidence enough of their delight in the idea.  They were thrilled!  The afternoon arrived and I found a gaggle of noisy enthusiastic students waiting for the movie to start.  I had moved my furniture around, putting mats on the floor and placing my laptop and speakers up high so everyone could see.  After everyone was settled, I counted about thirty students gathered on my couches and floor and a corresponding sea of thirty pairs of shoes outside my door.  The movie was a success – gasps were uttered, laughs and giggles too.  Half way through I brought out ground nuts as a treat.  As I passed out handfuls to everyone, there were choruses of “Thank you, Teacher”, and even several “God bless you, Teacher”.  I must brag for a minute and say I have wonderful students.  How many nine year olds do you know that say “God bless you, Teacher” for peanuts at a movie?

Planting Trees

Several weeks ago, we had a very exciting day at KEMPS.  As some of you have heard, many of the trees were cut down earlier in the year to build a temporary building.  Today, the school planted approximately 250 new trees on campus - pines and eucalyptus with more trees to come (including mango and avocado trees!).  Teacher Joyce gathered all the students together, and after explaining how to plant the trees, and having a handful of a standard 1 student say a prayer over the new trees (which was enthusiastically "amen-ed" even though we couldn't hear what he was saying), each student took a tree to marked spots around campus.  Crouched down, sticks in hands, there was a flurry of movement as students dug into the recently watered earth.  After cutting the plastic around the small tufts of pines that will someday become large trees, they filled their holes carefully with dirt, smoothing it until it was perfectly flat.  At this stage I made sure that the soil was firmly packed, demonstrating and having students help me push the dirt firmly in place around the roots of our tiny trees.  This was not the end of the process.  After planting the trees, I noticed sticks and rocks being collected and many campfire like rings and small teepees of sticks began appearing around the trees to protect them.  I even saw one student very carefully lay straw around the base of his tree.  All the stalks faced the same direction and the entire work of art was encircled in a ring of small stones.

Each student will get a tree to look after and to water.  It is clear that the students are excited about their role in restoring the environment around their school.  The energy that filled the campus, both teachers and students alike, was palpable in the sunny afternoon.  I have a feeling that some of these trees may be a little too well looked after - one student proudly announced the name of her tree to me as I helped her pack the earth!  Some of you (family and friends) may accuse me of being a tree hugger, and while I may have favorite trees, I'll have you know that I never named any of them.  My students are more tree huggers than I am - a fact which makes me extremely happy and proud.







Digging the hole!







A new use for the campfire ring: protecting the newly planted pine.



 

Everyone hard at work.



Ready for watering!

A night on the town

Perhaps a public blog is not the place to be talking about exploring the local nightlife, but for the purpose of cultural comparisons, I cannot resist!  Last weekend on Saturday, I, along with a fellow volunteer, felt that we needed to finally frequent the local and only nightclub in Bukoba, called Linna's.  I won't spend much time describing it, but we were both actually quite impressed by how modern the club felt, even though the music was several years behind.  What I really want to focus on was my astonishment at the clothes that women wore.  Fear not, I will not submit you to descriptions of extremely risqué clothing, because, by our standards, there was none.  However, I felt immediately like I had stepped back into Western Europe or the USA.  Bukoba, although a decent sized town by Tanzanian standards, is quite conservative in terms of dress.  During the day, women are seen in long skirts (no knees showing), kangas, and tops that usually cover the shoulders.  Not so in the night club!  I saw short miniskirts, leggings, skinny jeans (and for those of you that are up on your fashion, I think I even saw a pair of "jeggings") that would make my skinny jeans, which I left in the US, look baggy.  I was absolutely astounded.  Although such outfits do not leave the night scene, it is proof that western culture is slowly making its way even to the small town of Bukoba in the difficult to reach Kagera region.  Who knew the world could feel like such a small place!

First Days of Teaching

"Good Morning Teacher Stephania.  We LIKE Vocational Skills!", was the refrain that greeted me as I entered my first ever class.  Until I go to language school I will be teaching Vocational Skills to Standards 1 and 3.  Vocational Skills is a very broad subject that incorporates art, music, farming, animal husbandry, sewing and any other number of things.  For my classes I have decided to focus on Art (I think that teaching children to raise rabbits might be a challenge for a city girl).  It has been interesting and challenging to plan lessons.  Not only do you have to decide what you will teach them because there is no curriculum, but you also have to figure out what skills each standard already has and how to build on them.  In addition, you have to estimate how long each lesson will take. 

In my first project, which I called the flags of Africa, students were each given a country and asked to draw the flag for that country so that at the end of the project, the flags could be strung around the room.  In addition to drawing the flags, students were asked to locate their country on the map.  To my surprise, this project took much less time for them to complete than I thought, and I found myself learning to think on my toes and improvising the second half of my lesson!  I had forgotten that at these younger ages coloring is more scribbling, and that unless told very specifically to color slowly, smoothly and in the lines, they are not likely to do so.  I have since learned that where coloring is involved, it is very important to emphasize that finishing first is not the goal, but that coloring smoothly and within the lines is.  Although my first lesson was completed very quickly, when I planned a lesson on shading, emphasizing the importance of coloring smoothly and lightly, the lesson took a whole half an hour when I estimated 15 minutes.  While shading seems to be a challenge (and something we will work more on this week), students are very good at other skills, such as using rulers.  In fact, I have found that the challenge lies not in teaching them to use rulers, but in teaching them to do without rulers.  It is clear that perfection, straight lines, and neat notes are taught from a very young age.  While this is an important skill, I would like them to learn to free draw in art class.  At an age where students should be honing their scissor skills, shading, pen work etc., I think it is much more important to learn to rely on only yourself in your drawing and not on tools such as rulers.  I have had to tell students so many times that the exercise is to be completed without a ruler, and that their rulers should not be out on their desks!  

Not only have I been surprised by the skill sets of the students I am teaching, I have also been very interested to see how eager students are to have the teacher's approval for all of their work.  When we were shading, almost every student got up at one point to ask "Teacher, like this?".  And if you answer with an enthusiastic "Yes" their faces would break into a grin.  When standard 1 was making abstract drawings using different lines, they had a hard time when I told them that the line could be anywhere on their page.  Their learning is so focused on rote learning, or repeating in a group, that they were not comfortable when I told them there was no one right way to do something.  For the abstract drawings, students did start getting comfortable putting the lines where they wanted.  Even so, I did notice that students with desks placed next to each other had almost identical drawings!

This week I feel much more confident in my lessons.  I still find it a challenge to catch the attention of students when I need them to be quiet so I can give instructions.  Although this is not usually a problem in more formal note-based classes, it is much harder when you have forty students who have paper and colored pencils, and you are the only teacher!  Clearly the coloring is much more interesting!  But slowly I am learning how to manage these large classes and coming up with signs that signal I want quiet.  I have also taken to bringing stories if there is time left at the end of class after clean up.  The most recent story was that of "If you give a Moose a Muffin".  Although some of the references are very American, all my Standard 1 students, seated on the floor at the front of the classroom so that they could all see the pictures, were smiling, laughing and giggling at the funny images of an adventuresome and hungry Moose.



Too excited to hold still, Standard 3 is posing with their flags.

A detail of their hometown flags.  After copying an African flag,
students were asked to make a flag that represented their hometown.



Camera crazy!



Reflections on Life in Bukoba



Sunrise over Lake Victoria.  The view from
 KEMPS campus.



Walking to choir rehearsal Thursday evening, I noticed an abundance of new brightly colored flowers.  Unfortunately my camera wasn't charged, but I plan to get pictures, and maybe even to do sketches of them - either from life or photographs.  Perhaps I can start to build my own record of the plants here.  I should look for a decent sketch book and then begin.  I also finally caught a glimpse of the species of bird that lives in a tree on my way to the main road.  The tree is very strange - it looks like it is dead, but it has some sort of green growth, not ivy but it still reminds me of the trees choked by ivy at our house in England.  And on all of the dead, bare branches are little puffs of dangling grasses.  At first when I saw them I thought they were part of the tree.  But now I think that they are the nests of all the birds that one hears.  I saw one go in - it was quite a bright yellow.

I love that when you walk here it is completely normal to pass goats nibbling grass at the side of the road as well as passing cattle being herded by a slender young man with his walking stick.  Continuing down the hill, I passed an older gentleman wearing a suit jacket and what I think of as a French impressionists brimmed hat.  Greeting him with "Shikamoo", the wrinkles in his face creased into a smile as he said "Marahaba" and "Hujambo".  On Sunday while riding home in the rainstorm on a pikipiki, I passed a much younger woman dressed in a kanga, her arm bent upwards holding a large banana leaf over her head - a unique but probably effective umbrella.



In noticing all these details, I am realizing that this place is still so new and interesting to me.  Yet, at the same time, it has become so much more like home.  This past week, I really am beginning to feel like I am living here instead of just visiting for a while.  Living on campus and travelling to town feel comfortable and I am starting to recognize people as I walk around. 



Walking to town offers this fabulous view of Lake Victoria
and the town of Bukoba in the Valley below.



Not only have I been walking around, but I have also started running.  Originally I was nervous to run because it is not at all common to work out here.  But, I asked Teacher Joyce if it was appropriate to wear shorts and to my surprise she said it was no problem.  I was still skeptical. But, opting for the least conspicuous route, I donned a loose t-shirt and my brother's old basketball shorts which come to my knees (and look ridiculously baggy) instead of my usual shorter workout shorts.  I got lots of looks while I was running.  I have seen one American guy running, but no women or Tanzanians at all.  Not only is it not normal for people to run here, but it is not normal for women to wear shorts or pants.  I got the typical "wazungu", but with my music playing, I really didn't care.  I greeted people with "Habari" and "Shikamoo" and "Hamjambo" and to my delight, I got way more smiles than I usually do.  One little girl even ran alongside me for a ways - I challenged her to a mini sprinting race.  We tied and at the end she smiled, giggled, waved and said goodbye.  I don't know if they were smiling just because they thought I was weird, or if it was the combination of my doing something that is so American, and yet still greeting in a very Tanzanian way.  Regardless people seemed much more friendly (who knows, maybe it was the endorphins affecting the way I interpreted peoples' greetings).  But by doing something that is so un-Tanzanian, I felt much more a part of the community.



This particular comfort in Bukoba has been a real revelation for me.  For those of you that have travelled and lived abroad at some point, I am sure that you have heard about the different stages of adjustment to a new culture.  Usually phase one is the "novelty" and "in love with the culture" phase, and phase two is a low point where you are no longer in love with the culture and want to return to your own.  In a sense I feel like I have reversed these two stages.  Leaving college and friends was harder than I anticipated, and then to turn around and pick and leave home as well made everything that much harder.  Although I still miss friends and family (and I love hearing from you all!), I feel like I belong here for the first time and that I have really and truly made the right decision to live here for the next two years (not that I wasn't before, but it wasn't as clear).  I have rediscovered my adventuresome spirit and I am excited to see as much of Tanzania as possible and to enjoy every moment with the students that I have.

Students having class outside.

Ndolage Waterfall

Passing shambas on our hike.  Our goal was
 the rise in the distance.

Last weekend I ventured out to Katoke, about an hour south of Bukoba where I met a fellow volunteer, named Rhona, to hike to the Ndolage waterfall which is just barely visible across and up the valley from her house. We walked down the hill towards the river on red dirt paths with tall brown grasses on either side, passing a small cluster of houses and their green banana leaved shambas. As we reached the river, the grasses grew short and green. Crossing the sluggish river was a small hand built bridge with half logs as the planks and stripped branches for rails. According to Rhona there are hippos that live in this river. Because they are so dangerous and women often come to wash clothes in the river, a hunter was hired and killed a hippo. Because it was shot on a shamba, the owners got to keep a large portion of the hippo meat - I wonder what that tastes like.

Approaching the bridge.

After crossing the river, we slowly worked our way along and up the other side of the valley. We passed through one village, and reaching a rise and a perfect sitting rock, we paused to drink some water and look out over the village and the river snaking and curving below. During this break we noticed two small children. They did not come out to greet us, or call us wazungus ("white person" or "European" - it is quite common to get this from people as you walk by), but they hid behind a nearby rock, peaking their heads out every once and a while to look at us. If you turned to look at them, they would quickly pull behind the rock, thinking that they were well hidden (you could still see a bit of their shirts). There is nothing like being the local entertainment for an afternoon! When we left, they came out to the path and waved goodbye. Further up the trail we passed a group of women travelling in the opposite direction. Wearing kangas and carrying green bananas on their heads (these are not the sweet kind) they broke into chatter as they passed us. Greetings were exchanged and hands were grasped. They were shocked that we had travelled all the way from Katoke.

Our first view of the waterfall.

After walking for about three hours we finally reached the waterfall - a single stream of water pouring over the sheer cliff face. When the wind blew it caught the falling water, arcing it into a diagonal spray. Reaching the actual river, almost every crossing point was occupied with women washing their clothes. Crouched on the rocks they rubbed their clothes with bars of soap and swished them in the river. When they finished with that article of clothing, it was spread out on the bushes nearby transforming the green foliage into bursts of bright color. Moving closer to the waterfall, we finally found a place that was unoccupied and dipped our hot feet into the water - it was so refreshing. Having reached our destination and enjoyed the river, we finally headed down to the nearest town to wait and catch the dalla dalla back to Katoke. This was my first trip in a dalla dalla. A minibus, a dalla is probably meant to carry 9-12 people in the back. We must have had at least 20. One guy squeezed onto the floor and placed his fishy smelling box right on top of his knees. All in all it was not the most comfortable trip back, but it was certainly an interesting end to a great hike.

These red flowers belong to the Coral Tree, adding

bright splashes of color all over the hillsides.

Looking up at the banana leaves. 
Who would need an umbrella?

Porch Sitting: Christmas in August

Yesterday evening I ended up sitting on my porch surrounded by students from all different standards. We moved from discussing differences between New York and Tanzania to asking, and in my case, answering, all manner of questions about Father Christmas. They wanted to know what he wore, making the motion of a stocking cap; if he flew (I described reindeer and even sang 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'); if he had a family; where he lived; what he did the rest of the year and who made all the presents (elves). In addition, they asked whether children ever waited up to see him (we talked about leaving milk and cookies here and a girl commented that that was why he was so fat!), and how the letters the children wrote really reached Santa Claus in the North Pole? I learned that even though they had heard that Santa visits all over the world, he did not really come to Bukoba, and that they did not have, "what are the socks that presents are put in?", stockings.


After this, they wanted to compare different foods that we ate. Every single student thought that matoke (unsweetened mashed bananas) was the most delicious food in the world, and grasshoppers, which they insisted I had to try when they came in season, were a close second. According to one of my students they are lightly fried, crunchy and sweet. Before I had time question the tastiness of grasshoppers, I found myself receiving my own private Swahili lesson with about 10 teachers at once. They were all curious to find out which words I knew, and laughed when they heard me say them in Swahili!

My Swahili lesson was cut short by the gong announcing bed time, and I found myself sitting and enjoying the night. The moon is orange tonight - primeval. The night is relatively quiet, but the noises I do hear are unfamiliar, unknown and wild. Perhaps I am describing what one would stereotypically call "Africa", but the truth is, that it is completely and utterly wild and different from our American wilderness. The north woods has wildness in the unfriendly spruce, bears and moose and in the stillness and peace of knowing that the darkness contains streams, lilypadded lakes and the smell of balsam fir. The wildness here is full of bright colors, trees and flowers that I have never seen before, thistles that grow as tall as myself and trees that have inch long thorns on them. It is strange, but even the silence itself is wild and foreign, I think, because it contains the unfamiliar - I don't know what the dark is holding or how an orange moon will illuminate it.

Graduation

Graduation was this past Friday, so all of the standards spent last week preparing songs, dances or plays to perform at the ceremony. The younger standards were very cute. Preschool chanted in unison and Standard two performed a song about different dreams that could come true if you studied hard. Each verse had a student illustrating different possible futures. The funniest was the verse where they were imagining being a bishop. This little Standard two boy made a very pronounced sign of the cross and tried to bless another student, with so much force and enthusiasm that it looked more like he was trying to knight his fellow classmate and maybe knock him out. Teacher Joyce and I were sitting next to each other dying laughing.


What I enjoyed most about watching all of the performances was the way the singing was accompanied by some form of dance that matched the rhythm of the song. I was very impressed by their coordination. Having swung dance, I know there were times when I would not have been able to keep track of footwork, hand motions and singing words! Not only was the song choreographed, but so were the entrances and exits. Some of the footwork was really neat, especially when they all performed it in unison. You could tell it was something that became more comfortable as one got older. I think Standard 1 marched on, sort of. They were not quite in a line, not at all together, but with just enough rhythm to make you realize that there was supposed to be some sort of footwork that they were all supposed to be doing!

A jungle pool, pine trees and a dip in Lake Victoria

Sitting by the Jungle pool.  It was hard to resist not
dipping my toes in.

On Sunday I drove down with some friends to a nearby beach where I went swimming in Lake Victoria. Apparently the area has been tested for the parasite that infects the lake and was found to be clean - I certainly hope so. On the way we stopped at a small waterfall that had a stereotypical jungle pool at the bottom. Trees shaded the water allowing green light to filter through the canopy, one shaft of golden light hitting and illuminating the waterfall perfectly. I felt like I should have a vine and start swing from tree to tree like Tarzan. According to one of my friends there used to be an old Swedish pastor that swam in the pool. He apparently did it quite regularly, until one time he came face to face with a snake in the water. Needless to say, he stopped swimming there after that encounter. I would too!

One other thing about the path to this waterfall - there were pine trees! I know that most people who read this will roll their eyes at me and not find this nearly as exciting as I did, but I was so happy to discover that there are pine trees even here in Tanzania! Although I didn't have a chance to stop and see how many needles are in a bunch, I did notice that the needles were at least as long as my hand. Despite this difference from the red and white variety with which I am familiar, the smell is just the same and makes me feel at home no matter where I am. I learned later that these are actually attempts at reforestation and preventing soil erosion. According to a Denmark forester, they planted them because the area had been overfarmed and was becoming a desert - the solution was to import fast growing pine trees from, get this, New Zealand, so that the soil could recover, both nutrients and water, so that they could eventually cut them down and use the land for farming again. The biologist in me was very excited, although the tree hugger in me was very upset that any tree was going to be cut down, particularly a pine tree.

I have never even been to a drive-in movie, but I have been
 to my own private drive-in beach!

The beach was beautiful. The sand was white. We drove the Land Rover all the way down to the edge of the sand, where we set up our blankets. We shared the beach with some curly horned cattle, some children who were swimming, (one girl in a red dress), and some fishermen, who were pulling their small wooden boats onto the shore. These men had their feet spread, lined up grasping the rope, their bodies leaning back in a sitting position as they heaved the boat onto the sand.

On a random side note, African mosquitoes fly so much more quickly than north woods mosquitoes!

The ultimate balancing act: eggs on a pikipiki

The funniest part of the day was carrying 12 eggs that I bought at the market around all evening in a plastic bag. I thought for sure that I would knock them on something and break at least one. Especially during the pikipiki (motorcycle) ride. (Motorcycles are the cheapest form of taxi in Bukoba.) I had a bag of groceries and my purse on one shoulder, the bag of eggs gripped tightly in one hand, with the other hand holding the pikipiki behind me so that I wouldn't fall off! Quite the balancing act. Amazingly enough, they all made it back safe and sound.

Two New Sidekicks

"Teacha, teacha", a small hand crept into mine and a huge smile showing small white teeth appeared the instant the words were spoken. A grin and a giggle will follow if you smile back. This student is in preschool, and I think the word "teacha" may be one of the few that he knows in English. He tagged along today as I walked around campus after my first full week at KEMPS, content to chatter away at me in Kihaya, and maybe a little bit of Kiswahili. His twin sister was his mirror, holding my other hand, although her chatter was more in English.

It is a tribute to their comfort level with me, and to mine at the school that I had these two sidekicks this afternoon. A closed door is not enough to keep them away. All evening, until dinner, and even a bit after, the door would open, a head would peer around and voice would say "Teacher". Although I am flattered, I realize that boundaries must be set, and opening my front door without knocking was one of them. I got down onto one knee so that we were eye to eye. Very slowly, in English, I said that they were not allowed to open the door, and that they needed to knock, wrapping my knuckles on the door to demonstrate. Although I wasn't sure that they understood, I said goodnight and that I would see them tomorrow, and closed the door (for the 6th time). I think it is time to come up with a good signal to use for when students are allowed to knock. While in the midst of this thought, there was a wrap at the door and two heads appeared. Half exasperated, I got up again to go close the door. But before I got there, they said "Goodnight teacher! See you tomorrow!", finishing the phrase with smiles, and closed the door. Although it is clear I need a sign of some sort for when students can come visit me, and although they still opened the door without permission, at least they had learned to knock. I took pleasure in this small triumph and sat back down on my couch.

Hanging out with students on my front porch.

Hot Water and a Thoughtful Student

I managed to get hot water! I braved the initial orange water in the shower and it did eventually run clear. When water is running through the shower, it means that there was enough water to fill the water heater tank, thus meaning it is safe to turn on the heater - after half an hour I did manage to get hot water! Despite this excitement, I was unable to take a shower this evening; I was so excited to not have to boil water, but the water pressure wasn't strong enough even though the water was hot. I have yet to take an actual shower in this house. When that day comes, it will be monumental!


One other touching thing happened today. One of the students knocked on my door after school and said very quietly but it quite good English that I had asked him if he knew of any books that could help me learn Swahili, and that he had, in his possession, a book that had both English and Swahili in it. Although our previous conversation had taken place while I was sitting outside trying to learn Swahili and looking at a book (I did not ask for one), I was surprised and touched by his thoughtfulness and willingness to lend me one of his books. These children really are special. He is in Standard 4.

Chai and Introductions

As part of the school days the teachers have a ritual tea break at 10:30 every morning. The tea they drink is chai (Kelsey, you would be happy!); however, this chai was more like having a little tea with a very large amount of milk and sugar. Very good in small amounts. They also have mandazi or fried dough. I met a number of the teachers. It will be challenging to remember all of their names, I didn't even get introduced to all of them as they all seem to welcome you profusely, but to never tell you their name. My name is very funny thus far. For some reason Tanzanians seem to add "ie" to many English words that do not have that ending, and yet my name, which ends in an "ie" is pronounced "Stephan" or, if I am lucky, "Stephania".

Arriving in Bukoba

On August 5 we flew from Arusha to Mwanza. Our flight to Bukoba was supposed to leave Mwanza at 1:45pm, and while our trip thus far had been fabulously smooth, our luck was not to hold. At 2pm, although our bags had been loaded, men were on top of the plane, screw drivers in hand tinkering away. I must admit that it did not exactly inspire confidence. By 3pm it had been announced that the plane could not fly that day - they had run into a bird on the last trip and dented one of the wings. Fortunately we were lucky and did not have to spend the night in Mwanza (Mom's stories of cockroaches leapt immediately to mind), and by 5pm we were finally on our way to Bukoba, 7hrs after we arrived in Mwanza. The flight to Bukoba was 45 minutes.

Seated in the front row of a 12 passenger plane was an experience. I have never been in such a small plane. The small window frames rattled and vibrated as the front propeller roared to life, and the whole tiny structure bobbed like its 3 wheels were on shock absorbers as it gained speed, moving down the runway towards the shore of a blue and vast Lake Victoria. I did have a moment's thought as to whether we were going to take off in time or really end up in the lake - I guess I have never been able to see the view of the pilot from the cockpit before - I could almost have been sitting next to him there was so little leg room. The boats on the water shrank in size as we climbed higher and higher, to a cruising altitude of 10,000 feet if I read the altitude off the dashboard correctly! The coast of the lake became a vast panoramic with islands and inlets and all the coves of the journey in view. Seen from the map, Lake Victoria appears to be a rather circular uninteresting spot of blue in a very large continent. But this view, from the small window of a 12 passenger plane, exposed all of its mystery without divulging its secrets.

As we approached Bukoba we left the lake and headed inland making a circle around the entire town. Banana trees, tons of them came into view, their large green oblong leaves contrasting sharply with the red dirt. We touched down at the Bukoba airport, a single landing strip and a small building that could be described as equivalent to a small New England train station. The runway is dirt, red dirt, and there are no lights on the landing strip.

I live at the school, on top of the ridge, overlooking the lake and the town. Driving up in the Land Rover I had forgotten how large the hill really is, and there was one point where I wondered whether we might end up going backwards as the gears shifted. The road was narrow, twisting and turning, and although the rock walls from England were missing, the inability to see if oncoming traffic was coming made me want to reach for the horn at every turn.

When we reached KEMPS, I met a crowd of smiling faces, a bit shy but eager, crowded around my door. They had even put a sign of welcome on my door. It said "Welcome Dear Aaron and Stephanie at KEMPS August 2010".