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!