Kidogo kidogo, translation: little by little, is a great mantra to have when experiencing a new culture. It also is a common phrase here in Tanzania, and one that I have heard regularly throughout my first two weeks. Inno, my Swahili teacher and now good friend, keeps reminding me of this mantra when I feel that I am not learning the language fast enough. I try to remind myself of this mantra each day as I continue to learn the ins and outs of Tanzanian education. As one of those catchy and cliché quotes says: it is the kidogo things that make the biggest difference. My first, true, kidogo victory came at the end of last week.
Last Thursday, after I had finished teaching my two math classes, one to P4 and the other to P5, Mama Shayo asked me if I wanted to accompany her on a trip to town. I had no idea what this would entail, but I was done teaching for the day and I know that in order to strengthen new relationships, one must take advantage of unexpected invitations. It turns out that 'going to town' meant walking across the street to make two copies in a small shop and then stopping by the kindergarden class, which is in a different building than the older classes. This excursion took a little over an hour, during which time, Mama Shayo and I chatted about an array of things with intermittent pauses on both our paths to allow ourselves to get our thoughts together in our respective second languages. I could tell that Mama Shayo was pleased that I joined her, as was I, and that our relationship is continuing to grow in a positive way.
During the first full week of school, about mid-week, I began to feel that teaching only two classes was not enough since I had more time than needed in school day to complete all of my assigned tasks. Teaching math to the two oldest classes in the school meant that I was teaching two classes three days a week and three classes the other two days, since each content has a double block instead of single block one day a week. After only three full days of the regular schedule, my overachieving personality decided that I could definitely manage another class. Let's be serious: even if I taught five classes, this work load is a piece of cake compared to my usual charter school schedule of working at least twelve hour days Monday through Friday and for five or more hours on Sunday. Since P5 is the oldest class currently in our school and since I am the only native English speaker, I humbly figured it would be logical and beneficial to the children, of course if I taught P5 English as well.
Two math classes and an English class seems liked a much better fit to me, and I had been wanting to ask Mama Shayo for permission for since the middle of last week. It just never seemed like the right time. I also did not want to come off as pushy, condescending or ungrateful by asking to teach another class. I should also mention the one 'problem' with this grand plan of mine: on Tuesday and Thursday, P5 English was taught at the same time as P4 math. Have no fear. The schedule-making expert I became last year, I knew that whole principal at 25 thing would come in handy one day, made it very easy for me to find the simplest fix to the schedule so that P4 math, P5 math and P5 English were all taught at different times.
I had the solution to the existing problem; I just needed to get on with it and ask Mama Shayo. I figured there couldn't be a better time to broach the subject than after our trip-to-town bonding experience. So, on Thursday afternoon, I told Mama Shayo I had a question for her and pleaded my case. I knew that the explanation of what schedule changes were needed was going to be a bit tricky across language lines, but after a few attempts at explaining the needed switches and some visual aids, she agreed! I think the day during the first week of school where I missed tea because I was teaching all day definitely helped my case. Ever since then, it seemed like Mama Shayo understood that I like to work hard and am not a fan of watching from the sidelines. After being given the green light, I couldn't wait to come home, back to the hotel, and tell Teddy about my success, as I had been lamenting to her about my desire to teach P5 English for the past few days.
So today marked my first day as both P4 and P5 math teacher and P5 English teacher. Let me tell you, I couldn't be happier! It was a full day, particularly because I had to run to the immigration office with Teddy in between my classes to try to work on securing my long term volunteer visa, but no complaints here. In the midst of my current kidogo kidogo reality, such a victory goes a long way.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Friday, January 24, 2014
Setting the Tone
In my experience, usually theses two experiences do not come hand in hand, but earlier this week, I was fortunate enough to be able to experience both with my new students.
Tuesday was the second official day of school. One of the more challenging aspects of teaching in a different country is trying to determine which aspects of schooling are similar and which are different. For example, in America, well in East Coast charter school America, it is never acceptable for a child to get out of his or her seat without permission from the teacher. Chalk it up to combination of safety and legality. Here, however, the way that a child asks a personal question is to get up from his or her seat, walk directly to the teacher, no matter what else is happening in class at that given moment, and ask the question privately, and very respectfully: "please, madam...". Unless a person has taught both here in Tanzania and in America, it is impossible to identify and explain the many differences like this that exist. So, new teachers like myself must tread carefully in the beginning and learn via trial and error.
You should have seen my face the first time that a child got up in the middle of class while I was explaining the skill of the day. As any great teacher knows, the way you respond in front of children to a behavior the FIRST time it happens is critical to establishing the culture of your classroom. As the American-teacher-learning-the-Tanzanian-way, my ability to respond is somewhat limited because I never want to overreact, or under-react for that matter, as a result of my Americanness.
If I had been in America and a child got up out of his or her seat while I was speaking, I would have, for lack of a better phrase, flipped out to stress to the child, and the entire class, that such a behavior is entirely unacceptable and will not be tolerated. In my current adjustment period, a watered down version of survival of the fittest is necessary: I have to withhold my initial reaction to a situation to gage the room, which requires a great skill of reading faces and body language, and still react in a timely and appropriate fashion to whatever transpired. This is no easy feat, let me tell you, but most important things are not and this particular skill is essential to creating a strong classroom culture.
Thankfully the first time a child got up out of her seat, I did not flip out. Moreover, each day, I am continuing to learn as many education-specific cultural differences as I can - as quickly as I can. Some situations are universal though. On Tuesday, in P4's math class, there were a handful of children who had not completed all of their work at 10:00, when class ended and the twenty minute recess morning break began. Naturally then, the children who had not finished their work needed to do so before they could join their peers in recess time.
One of the greatest differences I have noticed thus far between my American teaching experiences and my first few days here in Tanzania is that here, it has been engrained into the minds (and hearts) of children that work must be finished before play. In their little minds, I am certain Tanzanian children are not jumping for joy at the idea of missing recess to finish up their work. From an outsider's perspective, it appears as though it does not even cross a child's mind to feel entitled to participate in all of recess like every other child. And as much as I love the children that I have worked with in America, especially the cohort of scholars I left back in Brooklyn in December to come teach here, more often than not, there would be a great deal of push back in the same situation from an average American child. I did not even have to announce to that the children who had not finished that they needed to keep working; they simply did. Without complaint.
About five minutes into the recess time, one young boy who was still working, Francis, asked to use the bathroom. Mind you, the way that he asked was by getting up out of his seat without permission and approaching me. Good thing I had already taken note of this difference. Considering the fact that my American-trained brain was feeling slightly bad for taking some of his 'you're a kid and you need to release all that energy bottled up in your growing body' time, I easily agreed. I added, however, to make it quick before he left the room. Two minutes later, I look out and seeing him running around, playing with one of his friends.
And there it was. My first real test as a teacher in Tanzania. How should I respond? I had no idea what the standard response to such a situation was. If only this was the movies and I could freeze the frame, poll a few teachers and then press play. A million thoughts ran through my mind in the 0.2 seconds I had to respond. I firmly, sternly and loudly called his name so that all of his peers could hear, announcing that he was caught red handed. His eyes grew rather large as he slowly made his way back to where I was standing in the door of the classroom. After about seven seconds of silence, that's a long time in such a situation -- test it out if you aren't convinced, I finally broke the silence. Me: Did you ask me to go to the bathroom or to go and play?
Francis: To go to the bathroom, madam.
Me: Did you go to the bathroom?
Francis: No, madam.
Me: I see.
More silence. After a few more seconds, I instructed him to go sit back down and finish his work.
Teaching is like a chess game. When I told Francis to sit back down, he looked relieved, as if that was the end of that. Fat chance. When he energetically jumped up a few minutes later, announcing he was finished with his work, I told him to sit back down. His facial expression showed me he realized he was not yet in the clear for the little stunt he pulled. He slowly sat back down, not making a sound as he waited for the end of recess bell to ring. When it did, I sauntered over to him and said: Come to the office at the beginning of afternoon recess, the last forty minutes of the day. Do you understand?
Francis: Yes, madam.
For the record, I am not in the habit of terrorizing children, but I am in the habit of leaving a strong impression that will remain with a child, when necessary. Each time I saw Francis for the rest of the day, he either looked ashamed or worried. I learned this "make 'em sweat" approach from the master herself, the great Shahara C. Jackson, and have found it to be highly effective time and time again.
I already have been in Tanzania long enough to know that when the afternoon recess bell rang, I would not have to go looking for Francis; he would come to me without any reminding. Another difference between Tanzanian and American children. And he did. I told him how disappointed I was that he lied to me earlier and that because he did that, he would not be able to play in today's afternoon recess. The final nail in Francis's 'lesson learned' coffin would not go over very well in America. But because it is Africa, and because I am the product of sixteen years of Catholic school education, I made sure Francis got the message about lying to me:
A little old school, a less accepted disciplinary method these days, I do admit. But when Francis was finished writing and came over to me with the sincerest of faces, near tears, and said in a very hushed voice, "I am sorry, madam," I knew the message had been received at least temporarily. As I sent Francis off to partake in the last few minutes of afternoon recess, I felt a sense of satisfaction in tackling my first 'Tanzanian teacher test' and wondered if news traveled as fast in Tanzanian schools as it does in American schools. It does. Before the end of the day, only ten minutes later, several children had come up to me inquiring about Francis's behavior and the resulting consequence. The tone appears to have been set, and it is my hope that Francis will be the first and last scholar that will need to write "I will not lie to my teacher". Time will tell.
Tuesday was the second official day of school. One of the more challenging aspects of teaching in a different country is trying to determine which aspects of schooling are similar and which are different. For example, in America, well in East Coast charter school America, it is never acceptable for a child to get out of his or her seat without permission from the teacher. Chalk it up to combination of safety and legality. Here, however, the way that a child asks a personal question is to get up from his or her seat, walk directly to the teacher, no matter what else is happening in class at that given moment, and ask the question privately, and very respectfully: "please, madam...". Unless a person has taught both here in Tanzania and in America, it is impossible to identify and explain the many differences like this that exist. So, new teachers like myself must tread carefully in the beginning and learn via trial and error.
You should have seen my face the first time that a child got up in the middle of class while I was explaining the skill of the day. As any great teacher knows, the way you respond in front of children to a behavior the FIRST time it happens is critical to establishing the culture of your classroom. As the American-teacher-learning-the-Tanzanian-way, my ability to respond is somewhat limited because I never want to overreact, or under-react for that matter, as a result of my Americanness.
If I had been in America and a child got up out of his or her seat while I was speaking, I would have, for lack of a better phrase, flipped out to stress to the child, and the entire class, that such a behavior is entirely unacceptable and will not be tolerated. In my current adjustment period, a watered down version of survival of the fittest is necessary: I have to withhold my initial reaction to a situation to gage the room, which requires a great skill of reading faces and body language, and still react in a timely and appropriate fashion to whatever transpired. This is no easy feat, let me tell you, but most important things are not and this particular skill is essential to creating a strong classroom culture.
Thankfully the first time a child got up out of her seat, I did not flip out. Moreover, each day, I am continuing to learn as many education-specific cultural differences as I can - as quickly as I can. Some situations are universal though. On Tuesday, in P4's math class, there were a handful of children who had not completed all of their work at 10:00, when class ended and the twenty minute recess morning break began. Naturally then, the children who had not finished their work needed to do so before they could join their peers in recess time.
One of the greatest differences I have noticed thus far between my American teaching experiences and my first few days here in Tanzania is that here, it has been engrained into the minds (and hearts) of children that work must be finished before play. In their little minds, I am certain Tanzanian children are not jumping for joy at the idea of missing recess to finish up their work. From an outsider's perspective, it appears as though it does not even cross a child's mind to feel entitled to participate in all of recess like every other child. And as much as I love the children that I have worked with in America, especially the cohort of scholars I left back in Brooklyn in December to come teach here, more often than not, there would be a great deal of push back in the same situation from an average American child. I did not even have to announce to that the children who had not finished that they needed to keep working; they simply did. Without complaint.
About five minutes into the recess time, one young boy who was still working, Francis, asked to use the bathroom. Mind you, the way that he asked was by getting up out of his seat without permission and approaching me. Good thing I had already taken note of this difference. Considering the fact that my American-trained brain was feeling slightly bad for taking some of his 'you're a kid and you need to release all that energy bottled up in your growing body' time, I easily agreed. I added, however, to make it quick before he left the room. Two minutes later, I look out and seeing him running around, playing with one of his friends.
And there it was. My first real test as a teacher in Tanzania. How should I respond? I had no idea what the standard response to such a situation was. If only this was the movies and I could freeze the frame, poll a few teachers and then press play. A million thoughts ran through my mind in the 0.2 seconds I had to respond. I firmly, sternly and loudly called his name so that all of his peers could hear, announcing that he was caught red handed. His eyes grew rather large as he slowly made his way back to where I was standing in the door of the classroom. After about seven seconds of silence, that's a long time in such a situation -- test it out if you aren't convinced, I finally broke the silence. Me: Did you ask me to go to the bathroom or to go and play?
Francis: To go to the bathroom, madam.
Me: Did you go to the bathroom?
Francis: No, madam.
Me: I see.
More silence. After a few more seconds, I instructed him to go sit back down and finish his work.
Teaching is like a chess game. When I told Francis to sit back down, he looked relieved, as if that was the end of that. Fat chance. When he energetically jumped up a few minutes later, announcing he was finished with his work, I told him to sit back down. His facial expression showed me he realized he was not yet in the clear for the little stunt he pulled. He slowly sat back down, not making a sound as he waited for the end of recess bell to ring. When it did, I sauntered over to him and said: Come to the office at the beginning of afternoon recess, the last forty minutes of the day. Do you understand?
Francis: Yes, madam.
For the record, I am not in the habit of terrorizing children, but I am in the habit of leaving a strong impression that will remain with a child, when necessary. Each time I saw Francis for the rest of the day, he either looked ashamed or worried. I learned this "make 'em sweat" approach from the master herself, the great Shahara C. Jackson, and have found it to be highly effective time and time again.
I already have been in Tanzania long enough to know that when the afternoon recess bell rang, I would not have to go looking for Francis; he would come to me without any reminding. Another difference between Tanzanian and American children. And he did. I told him how disappointed I was that he lied to me earlier and that because he did that, he would not be able to play in today's afternoon recess. The final nail in Francis's 'lesson learned' coffin would not go over very well in America. But because it is Africa, and because I am the product of sixteen years of Catholic school education, I made sure Francis got the message about lying to me:
 |
| Corporal Punishment? |
A little old school, a less accepted disciplinary method these days, I do admit. But when Francis was finished writing and came over to me with the sincerest of faces, near tears, and said in a very hushed voice, "I am sorry, madam," I knew the message had been received at least temporarily. As I sent Francis off to partake in the last few minutes of afternoon recess, I felt a sense of satisfaction in tackling my first 'Tanzanian teacher test' and wondered if news traveled as fast in Tanzanian schools as it does in American schools. It does. Before the end of the day, only ten minutes later, several children had come up to me inquiring about Francis's behavior and the resulting consequence. The tone appears to have been set, and it is my hope that Francis will be the first and last scholar that will need to write "I will not lie to my teacher". Time will tell.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Drinking Tea in the African Heat
It is unacceptable to miss tea. I learned this the hard way last week at school. On Thursday, the second day of school…well, unofficial school. Let me explain.
Last week school was supposed to start on Monday; however,
as I shared in an earlier post, the president declared it a holiday late Sunday
evening. Last Tuesday was also a day of
no school because of a Muslim holiday.
So, children started coming to school on Wednesday. That being said, actual classes and instruction
did not begin until today. Last
week, or the remaining days following holidays, is the equivalent of the
professional development in which teachers in the States partake for the week(s)
prior to the first day of school.
Here in Tanzania, though, children come to school while this planning
and preparation takes place.
It may sound like a tricky situation, planning while monitoring children. It would only be tricky if you are using your American
reference point. While teachers
are gathered together planning in the office, think teachers’ lounge/work room, students simply sit in classes. Given the lack of adult supervision,
students are exceedingly well
behaved. Every once in a while,
noise exceeding the acceptable noise level erupts from a room and a teacher
stops in to check out the ruckus. Besides
that, young Tanzanian children have enough self-awareness to keep their voices
down and avoid killing each other in a classroom without any supervision or supplies for hours upon
end.
As a product of American schooling and as an American
educator for almost five years now, when did that happen?, I bet you can
imagine the thoughts running through my head while observing this and learning this was entirely acceptable. Especially because
no one explained to me: “Oh, this week is a little less structured; this is not
how every day is and actual classes start on Monday”. So I jumped to the conclusion that last Wednesday, Thursday
and Friday was simply how school in Tanzania looked and operated --- a reminder of what assuming does. Thankfully, today's first day of actual school mostly proved that as inaccurate, but that is a story for another day.
 |
| I am in awe of the hard work and dedication of my new students! |
Once the bell rang, and
by that I mean a child literally rings a hand held bell to indicate the end of
each class, I lined the children up and took them outside, another American approach that is not
practiced here – the kids looked at me like I was crazy but respectfully
complied with my directions and we marched outside as everyone else went
running and screaming past. I
played with several of the girls, jumping rope and playing Tanzanian patty cake, until right
before the end of the break. I had
learned the day before that the morning break ended at 10:20. I wanted to stop in the teachers’ room
to get a drink of water before continuing my impromptu teaching with P4 until lunch. I
walked into the office and as soon as Mama Shayho, the headmistress saw me, she asked me in a
very stern voice and an equally stern face, “Ah! Jessica, why did you not
take tea?!”.
Now, let me be clear on a few things. Number one: I do not like tea. Never have. Number two: it is scorching hot outside. Why in the world would I want tea? Number three: If I had come for tea,
who would have been with the children?
All of those things considered, it was very apparent to me in that
moment that that would be the last time I missed tea. New cultures require you to stretch yourself and
occasionally battle between honoring your most natural desire and inclination
or the culturally sensitive and expected action. Like being called Jessica, for example. All who know me know I despise being called Jessica. Here, however, it is much easier for
people to pronounce Jessica than Jess or Jessie, so here I will be
Jessica. Don’t get any ideas at home, people. And tea. I
will be taking tea, as it is said here,
every day. Nevermind the
temperature. Nevermind the high
speed pace that I am accustomed to in New York City charter schools. I just hope my teeth won’t get too
stained. ;)
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
My Tuesday Was Better Than Yours
These days, people use a similar hashtag/status for fairly basic things (no judgment, just saying); however, this experience truly is worthy of such a title.
On the second day of holiday, instead of being in school, I accompanied the two American med students to a clinic for a bit and then assisted Inno in a tour of Moshi for a Japanese couple. My morning clearly was not 'my Tuesday was better than yours' worthy. However, after a great lunch with my "Tanzanian family" (Teddy and Inno), the five of us headed to one of the most magical places I have ever been. The Materuni, also known as Mnambe, is a150 meter (that's 450 feet for all of you Americans) waterfall. Of all of the waterfalls whose water source is Mount Kilimanjaro, Materuni is the largest.
After reaching the outskirts of Moshi, we drove for at least a half an hour up an extremely bumpy dirt road into the mountainside. The ride itself was beautiful, but only an appetizer to what would come. Once we parked (read: stopped the car on the mountainside because the path was not longer wide enough nor safe for vehicles -- see above), we walked down to the base of the mountain. We walked for an hour or so with two impromptu guides, without whom, we would not have been able to find our way to the waterfall.
I continue to be in awe of the warmth, kindness and hospitality of the Tanzanian people. Teddy and Inno have made this journey multiple times for the sake of their American guests (which is quite a treat as this waterfall is not an advertised tourist attraction). The path to Mnambe is long and treacherous. And let's not forget that you also have to walk back. It has not even been a week yet, and I am already forever indebted to my Tanzanian family, and I have no doubt that this is only the tip of the iceberg of gratitude that will exist six months from now.
The day was unforgettable. I could have stood frozen in time at the place where we first could see the waterfall it all its glory. Once the waterfall was in view, it was about a seven minute hike to the pool at the base of the waterfall. We carefully navigated over the rocks leading to the pool at the base of the waterfall, and dipped our toes into the water. Freezing. Absolutely freezing. But, there was no way I was passing on the opportunity to be one with the waterfall, and thankfully neither was Jean. At least there were two of us wzungu kicha (crazy Americans). We stripped down, much to the enjoyment of the local teenage boys, and began to splash, laugh and swim as is only right in such a situation. As Teddy, Inno, and Nick watched, Jean and I soaked up, literally, as much of this experience as possible.
It is hard to envision that amongst such beauty one photo could rival another. However, the view from the center of the pool (particularly right at the water's edge) captures Mnambe in all its glory, strength and beauty unlike any other. While floating in the center of the pool, Jean and I lamented for several minutes about our mutual desire to capture this view -- and how risky it would be to do so.
My inner daredevil, however, couldn't resist. Jean and I decided we would use my iPhone to capture this view. Getting this picture was a team effort. Nick supplied a plastic bag, which had been storing his sunscreen and bug spray. It would now become the armor for my iPhone. The entire bottom of the pool consisted of jagged and uneven rocks, which makes it no easy feat to keep one's balance while making one's way to the center of the pool. Jean and I carefully passed my phone, "safely" inside of Nick's
plastic bag back and forth to each other after securing our footing on the rock bottom from the edge to the center of the pool. Finally we made it to the middle where the real challenge presented itself. I had to take my phone out of the bag, keep it dry from the massive amount of falling water and its residual mist, lower the unprotected camera to the surface of the water, keep my hand steady to capture this one of a kind photo. Risky, yes, but be the judge for yourself of whether or not it was worth it. No damage to my iPhone, in case you were concerned.
Jean and I could have floated around in that pool for quite some time, but the less kisha Teddy, Inno and Nick were patiently waiting for us back on shore. We took our last glances from the pool and carefully made our way back to our friends. We began the hour hike back to the car just as the sun was setting. What more could you ask for? By the time we got back to the car, we all had laughed until our stomachs hurt and Jean and I were dry. The sun had just set and Kili, what natives call Mount Kilimanjaro, was waiting to bid us farewell and send us on our way.
 |
| The beginning of our walk down the mountain. |
 |
| A view as we made our way to the waterfall. |
I continue to be in awe of the warmth, kindness and hospitality of the Tanzanian people. Teddy and Inno have made this journey multiple times for the sake of their American guests (which is quite a treat as this waterfall is not an advertised tourist attraction). The path to Mnambe is long and treacherous. And let's not forget that you also have to walk back. It has not even been a week yet, and I am already forever indebted to my Tanzanian family, and I have no doubt that this is only the tip of the iceberg of gratitude that will exist six months from now.
 |
| First complete view of Mnambe! |
 |
| "Rainbow". Jean and I basking in Mnambe's beauty. |
My inner daredevil, however, couldn't resist. Jean and I decided we would use my iPhone to capture this view. Getting this picture was a team effort. Nick supplied a plastic bag, which had been storing his sunscreen and bug spray. It would now become the armor for my iPhone. The entire bottom of the pool consisted of jagged and uneven rocks, which makes it no easy feat to keep one's balance while making one's way to the center of the pool. Jean and I carefully passed my phone, "safely" inside of Nick's
 |
| "Surface Level". January 2014. |
Jean and I could have floated around in that pool for quite some time, but the less kisha Teddy, Inno and Nick were patiently waiting for us back on shore. We took our last glances from the pool and carefully made our way back to our friends. We began the hour hike back to the car just as the sun was setting. What more could you ask for? By the time we got back to the car, we all had laughed until our stomachs hurt and Jean and I were dry. The sun had just set and Kili, what natives call Mount Kilimanjaro, was waiting to bid us farewell and send us on our way.
 |
| "Farewell". A picture perfect ending to a remarkable afternoon. |
What did you do this last Tuesday? No offense, but bragging rights like these don't come around often.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Supposed First Day of School
With much anticipation, I woke up today excited to begin my Tanzanian teaching career. However, much to my chagrin, late last evening the President of Tanzania declared today a national holiday in honor of my arrival to Tanzania and Founders' Day for the great Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Incorporated. Seriously though, he called off school today because of some recent happenings in Zanzibar - go figure. So this morning, at 7:35 (when school was supposed to start at 7:30), Stella Maris found out about the national holiday. Some of the children had not heard the announcement and still came to school. Thus, I spent a little bit of time this morning meeting the children that traveled to school today and playing a few games with them. Apparently tomorrow is also a national holiday, so school is now planned to begin on Wednesday. Stay tuned.
As it turns out, there are two American med school volunteers who are here until Saturday and they were visiting a clinic today in a village in one of the nearby mountainsides. Because school was cancelled, I joined them for the day. It was both a beautiful and eye-opening experience: beautiful because of the breath-taking scenery as we trucked up this mountainside and eye-opening as I compared the hospital today to American and Ghanaian hospitals.
Today concluded with a trip to the center of town, my second Tanzanian run, a traditional Tanzanian dinner and a ride to and from the airport to keep Innocent company since he had to go to the airport multiple times today to pick up and drop off guests. I had been told that I would be able to move into my permanent room today, but there was a slight adjustment to that as well, so I will not be moving now until Thursday or Saturday. Again, stay tuned. So all in all, it was not the day I expected, but a great day nonetheless. As I lay my head down to sleep tonight, I feel peaceful and thankful.
As it turns out, there are two American med school volunteers who are here until Saturday and they were visiting a clinic today in a village in one of the nearby mountainsides. Because school was cancelled, I joined them for the day. It was both a beautiful and eye-opening experience: beautiful because of the breath-taking scenery as we trucked up this mountainside and eye-opening as I compared the hospital today to American and Ghanaian hospitals.
Today concluded with a trip to the center of town, my second Tanzanian run, a traditional Tanzanian dinner and a ride to and from the airport to keep Innocent company since he had to go to the airport multiple times today to pick up and drop off guests. I had been told that I would be able to move into my permanent room today, but there was a slight adjustment to that as well, so I will not be moving now until Thursday or Saturday. Again, stay tuned. So all in all, it was not the day I expected, but a great day nonetheless. As I lay my head down to sleep tonight, I feel peaceful and thankful.
Friday, January 10, 2014
My First Few Hours in Tanzania
I have been in Tanzania for only a few hours and (surprisingly, I know) I already love it! I was picked up from the airport by a very kind man named Innocent, who would not let me carry any of my three 50+ pound bags and who taught me my first few words in Swahili. Stepping off the plane and smelling the warm, familiar African air was all of the confirmation I needed to assure me that coming back to Africa and leaving my wonderful friends and family (both in Michigan and NYC) for six months is exactly what I am supposed to be doing right now. The hour car ride from the Kilimanjaro airport to the Stella Maris Lodge was so pleasant as Innocent and I shared stories about America, Tanzania and Ghana. As we drove down the main road from the airport to my new home, I took in as much as I could: the shadows of the landscape, the people walking alongside the road, the absence of city lights and noise. When I was in Ghana, I always felt such peace and happiness, and all is right in the world as I already have that same feeling here in Tanzania! My body has no idea what time of day it is or whether it should be hungry, tired, etc, but as it is almost midnight here in Tanzania, I am going to attempt to rest so that I can be ready for my first full day in Tanzania tomorrow!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)