Language School, Maasai and the Udzungwa Mountains

It has been quite a while since my last post.  I have returned to Bukoba, and taught my first classes for the year today.  In this post I want to share a bit more about my adventures in Morogoro (My travels to the rainforest and Zanzibar will follow soon).  I think the best way to do this would be with a tour through my photos.  I hope you enjoy.




This is the classroom where I learned Kiswahili every day.  The language school had many of these shaded bandas spread out through a small garden.  Each banda had a wonderful view of the Uluguru Mountains, and they were often visits by monkeys.

 


The view of the peaks from the classrooms.  Awe-inspiring, and also very distracting!

 


Around the campus there were many large and old baobab trees.  The most ancient was found in a field of yellow berries.  According to the grandfather of a teacher at the language school, this tree has not changed since he was a boy.

 


Although it may have looked small from the first picture, I felt small indeed standing next to its huge base.  This was not the only baobab near the campus.  



Not far away was a baobab perfect for climbing.  Perched surrounded by its giant arms, I spent many afternoons relaxing here after classes.



In a previous post, I talked about the Maasai.  This is one of the churches we visited while I was in Morogoro.

 



Among other things, the Maasai are known for their rhythmic dancing during church services.  Drums give the beat for the song, and the jewelry that the dancers wear emphasizes the beat provided by the drums, the singing, and the complicated footwork.



After the service, this Maasai Mama gave me my first lesson in beading by sewing one of her bracelets (note the Tanzanian flag) onto my wrist.



Excited by my new beading skills, I found the maasai beading store in town and started to get to know the local beaders.  I became particularly close with Agnes (pictured here).  We would bead together in the afternoons, and she helped me practice my swahili.  Although I got to know Agnes the best, many of the Maasai women came to look and see what I was beading, passing it around, exclaming in surprise, and telling me that I was now Maasai.

 While In Morogoro, I also took a weekend trip to Udzungwa National Park.  Although this national park is not as well developed as some others in Tanzania, it has many endemic species, and boast several spectacular waterfalls, one which we were able to swim at the base of.



This is the fireball lily that covered the cliffside on either side of the first waterfall.



In the forest interior, we came across this rather intimidating vine called the crocodile vine.



As well as a tree which we called the buttress tree, due to its interesting base.



After a hot and gruelling hike we reached our final destination, this huge waterfall which is the first of three drops of the Sanje Falls.  It was the perfect place to enjoy a refreshing swim and a pounding massage.

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!