I'm not sure I like who I am becoming...

Like many Peace Corps applicants I had this idealistic fantasy of moving to another country and changing it for the better.  I thought I would change the world and teach people skills that would drastically improve their lives.  I thought I could motivate students to learn and teach them how to think critically. Yet after living in Tanzania for the past year and a half, I realized that the world wasn't changing, my village wasn't changing, my school wasn’t changing, but I was.   This experience has caused me to change a lot and I am honestly not sure if I like who I am becoming. 

I remember witnessing corporal punishment for the first time at my school over a year ago and being completely horrified.  I wondered how I could have a good relationship with teachers who beat students with the same ferocity as cattle and was determined to implement other methods of punishment.  I tried implementing detention, additional assignments, physical labor improving the school environment, etc. I thought that if I led by example and was able to earn the respect of students without beating them, then the other teachers would possibly change their own behavior.   I wanted teachers to see that there was a difference between respect and fear, and that fear is not conducive to learning.  I dreamed that my students would feel comfortable enough around me to ask questions and tell me that they didn't understand something.  Most importantly, I felt that nobody ever deserves to get beaten.  Certainly a failed test or tardiness could not justify physical abuse.   I felt sympathy for the students and wondered how they could succeed in an environment without teachers or books.  If the stick was the punishment for failure and the system was designed for them to fail, then how could an education coexist with an environment free of physical abuse?

A year later, things have changed.  I have seen more beatings than I can count and am sad to say it doesn't bother me anymore.  I used to hold back tears and avoid assemblies so I wouldn't have to witness the abuse.  Teachers would warn me in advance if a student would be beaten so that I could prepare myself.  What I can only describe as a feeling of disgust, terror, and sorrow has become replaced with a cloud of numbness.   It’s as if I am completely detached from my emotions when students are being beaten.  Their looks of terror and cries of pain are met with a blank stare.  Perhaps this is some sort of defense mechanism to make working in this environment bearable, but sometimes I think the students deserve the stick.  I have tried many different forms of punishment and students continue to do bad behaviors.  Teachers have explained to me that African students are different from American students.  “They only learn from the stick,” they say.  I guess students have helped prove alternative punishments ineffective, and teachers have begun beating students on my behalf while I sit and watch. “Madame, the reason students don’t respect you or come to class is because you don’t beat them.  If you use the stick, they will change their behavior.”  If I had a dollar for every time a teacher told me that those students fail or don’t come to class because I refuse to beat them, I would be a very rich woman.  But that’s all I have left:  This moral conviction that physical violence is wrong and a constant refusal to become the abuser.

I have been able to convince myself that I am still a good person because I am not the one hitting them.  As if sitting there watching makes me less guilty.  And I wonder throughout history how many people stood by while injustice was being done.  I've always admired those people on the other side of history, those with enough courage to say “this is wrong.”  I dreamed I would be like them, but I’m not.  I am worried for myself.  I am worried that corporal punishment is becoming so normalized in my life that one day I am not going to see it as wrong or unjust.  I have already lost my emotional response to beating, how much longer before I lose my moral one.  How much longer until I become the teacher holding the stick?

Why is President Obama so thin?

This was a question that emerged after a conversation with some of my fellow teachers.  What began as a joke about an ugali eating competition quickly turned to a discussion about wealth and body fat.  In Tanzania, having a large stomach and being fat is often considered a good thing.   If you are large, it means that you work in an office, don’t have to walk everywhere, and have a constant food supply.  In other words, you aren’t poor.  You don’t have to work on a farm or do physical labor to survive. While I have seen some animosity towards large Tanzanians who take up too much room on a bus or dala, I think they are generally respected.  At my school, the Headmaster and Director are both overweight.  They are highly valued and teachers think that their size shows they are successful men.  The conversation became even more interesting when a teacher said, “Why is President Obama so thin? He is one of the most powerful men in the world; shouldn’t he have a bigger body?  His wife is also very fit.” They could not understand why the Obama family was fit even though they were extremely wealthy and did not need to do physical labor.  I explained that in America, people want to be fit because it is not healthy to be too fat.  I also told them that in America, poor people are fatter than rich people.  My colleagues were shocked! 

After this conversation, I started to think a lot about America and our obesity epidemic.  In so many parts of the world, size and body fat are linked.  People who are impoverished often do not get enough food to eat and are malnourished.  Yet, in America, those living in poverty often live off of high calorie diets. In Tanzania, many people have gardens and grow the foods that they eat.  In America, people consume more processed foods.  I am living in an extremely poor country, but I wonder if there are things the American people can learn from Tanzanians.  Obesity definitely does not seem to be a major killer here…

Subjects Taught in School: English, Math, Kiswahili, Biology, Physics, Chemisty, History, Geography, Civics, and ABUSE

One of the things about Tanzania that I have always hated is the disrespect and abusive treatment of women.  Tanzanian women are so strong and hardworking. They are often the ones working on the farm, selling fruits and vegetables in the market, carrying buckets of water, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, taking care of children, etc.   I have a lot of respect for the women here, yet they are constantly victims of physical, emotional, and psychological abuse. It makes me so sad because I am powerless to help them.  Peace Corps warned us early on not to get involved in these matters because our own safety could become a concern. As a result, over the last year I have learned to put on headphones to drown out the screams of my neighbors being beaten at night.  And I have learned not to stare when the Momma whose shop I frequent has a black eye, busted lip, and bruises all over her body.  Witnessing abuse in the village was bad enough, but seeing it at my school crossed the line. 

As a teacher, I am not only trying to teach my students English, but also discipline and respect for each other.  I was horrified today when I found out that one of the male students was being punished for beating a female student over a disagreement about the cleaning schedule.  I am the only female teacher at the school, so I was happy to see that the male teachers thought the student should be punished.  However, they didn’t seem too upset about it.  Beating girls was a normal thing for boys to do.  I know that abuse is common in this culture, but it seems like I am the only one upset about it.  I remember a few months ago a boy in my class slapped a girl in the face and the class was SHOCKED that I was upset about it.  The students just laughed and could not seem to understand why the boy was being punished.  The saddest part was that the girl did not understand why a boy slapping her was unacceptable.  My students think I am a weird American, but they are aware of the things that make me angry.  This was the one and only time a boy hit a girl in front of me, and they know that I won’t tolerate it.  Unfortunately, they don’t understand why this behavior is wrong.  How can I teach them abuse is wrong when they go home and see their father beating their mother?  It is so normal in this culture that my students are desensitized to it in the same way corporal punishment doesn’t seem to affect them.

I am fighting a losing battle against corporal punishment at this school.  There is too much teacher turnover for me to convince anyone that students shouldn’t be beaten.  Yet, when it comes to boys beating girls in school, I think they deserve corporal punishment.  I didn’t even cringe when this student was hit with a stick.  I suggested to the teacher that the next time they should let the girl who was abused give the boy his punishment under the supervision of teachers.  They liked that idea.  But I know that people who are abused often become abusers themselves and I wonder if corporal punishment is teaching my students physical abuse is okay.  If anyone has any suggestions on what I can do to stop this trend, I am all ears. 

The Man at the Hotel

Every month, PCVs like to meet up in our banking town and eat food that is not the typical Tanzanian cuisine we find in the village.  In my case, this means no ugali and beans.   One of our favorite places is a really nice hotel that we are too poor to stay at.  They have a lounge/bar with wireless internet, a television, outlets to charge all of our electronic devices, and good food. The staff is nice to us.  They know that we are poor volunteers and don’t mind us sitting for hours on the computer while ordering the cheapest items on the menu. 

On Saturday, I was sitting with a group of other PCVs in this hotel lounge when another “mzungu” walked in.  “Mzungu” usually refers to a white foreigner (or in my case a pigmentally challenged foreigner) and the man who walked in upheld every negative stereotype one might have a white foreigner.  He made his entrance known by yelling at all the waiters and staff for a menu.  Although the staff speaks pretty good English, I think it took them a second to comprehend why they were being yelled at. So of course this made the man yell louder.  I have never quite understood why people think that yelling in English will make someone understand them better, especially if their native language is different.  I know that Tanzanians yelling at me in Kiswahili makes no difference.  Whether they are whispering, speaking normally, or screaming, I still have no idea what they are saying.  I imagine it is the same with English.  I am not sure which country this man was from, but he was an ASSHOLE!  He kept yelling at the waiters for no reason and was extremely disrespectful.  He asked for salt and then when they brought the salt, he yelled at them for not bringing pepper.  When he was finished he yelled for the bill.  I don’t understand why he couldn’t ask for things politely and felt the need to treat the staff like worthless animals.  I imagined I was in South Africa watching an Afrikaner disrespect the black servants during apartheid.  This man was clearly racist and I watched the pained faces of once happy staff members.  They looked almost afraid of this man and I was horrified, disgusted and embarrassed by his behavior. 

I soon realized that Tanzania was becoming that older brother who you don’t always like but secretly love. I found myself becoming protective and defensive.  It’s okay if I spend my days frustrated and criticizing Tanzanians because I live here, but how dare you come into this country and act as if all Tanzanian people are inferior to you.  It made me sick to watch.  I can understand why the staff and waiters don’t mind us sitting in the lounge for hours. We treat them with respect and even try to communicate with them in Kiswahili.  I found this man’s behaviour extremely embarrassing because he made all foreigners look bad, but I wasn’t as embarrassed as the white PCVs I was with.  This was one of those moments where I was extra proud to be an African American.  This wasn’t a cultural difference, the man was a racist asshole and I was not about to claim any similarity to him.  Besides, if I was his waitress I’m sure I would have received the same disrespect. Our eyes met as he stood up to leave and I saw a look of disgust as if he was asking himself, “Why is this colored girl surrounded by white people?” I laughed at myself as he walked out of the hotel.

I Thought I Would Love It Here

Dear Friends, Family, and anyone else who follows this blog:

     I apologize for not keeping this blog updated or writing anything for the past few months.  I have been having an extremely difficult time living in Tanzania and am constantly questioning my purpose for being here.  In all honesty, this experience is not what I had hoped for.  I had delusions of returning to the “motherland” and being accepted by Tanzanians due to my African American heritage.  This is so far from my experience that I am amused by how naïve I was.   I have found myself in a unique position that sets me apart from many other Peace Corps volunteers.  Many Tanzanians think that I am white but I am not quite white enough to be treated with the same respect as other volunteers. 

      I am not sure why my appearance is seen as more desirable in this country but I think it has to do with it seeming more attainable to Tanzanians (if they get enough skin bleaching cream and a good weave then Tanzanian women can look like me).  Whatever the reason, it has led to constant harassment from men in town.  I have been grabbed, pushed, and threatened to be beaten for not responding to their advances. Women in this country are not respected and I am clearly no exception.  For a while I questioned why it was so difficult for me to make friends with Tanzanian women my age, finally a friend explained that some of the women were afraid that I would steal their men.  As a result, I have often found myself feeling very lonely in this country.  There is also a high rate of teacher turnover at my school, and every time I make a friend they leave a couple months later.   Currently I am the only full time female teacher at my school and although I do not have problems with other teachers, I am not invited into their “boys club.” Men and women do not usually socialize together in this country and I find that my gender, poor Kiswahili, and work ethic (I mark assignments, teach, and prepare for lessons during the school day while other teachers socialize) makes me a perpetual outsider.  Fortunately, I do not mind spending time alone and have learned to enjoy solitude.  In summary, I have a much better relationship with students than teachers. 

                The other reason I have not written for a while is because Peace Corps censors our blogs and we are not allowed to say anything negative about the government and are discouraged from ranting about the people or culture.  Unfortunately, as time passes it becomes difficult for me to find things I like about Tanzania apart from the natural beauty (mountains, lakes, animals, etc.)  Things that I thought I would get used to bother me more.  I can’t seem to compromise on my desire to be treated with respect even though I am a woman.  Nor have I grown accustomed to invasions of privacy and complete disregard for my personal space. By American cultural values, Tanzanians are extremely rude.  I am frustrated by the government corruption and police officers who demand bribes.  I miss the concept of customer service and the annoyance many Tanzanians have when you ask them to do their jobs.  I am tired of people trying to charge me double the price of things and having to haggle my way down to the actual price.  I hate being lied to and being told things that people think I want to hear (for example being told to wait for food I ordered when they don’t actually have it in the restaurant).   I hate it when people “help” you by grabbing your bags without your permission then demanding you give them money. I miss safety regulations regarding transportation.  And I still have not grown accustomed to how belligerent the culture seems.  Tanzanians praise themselves on being a peaceful nation because there is not civil war, but people yell and each other and fight over the smallest things.  For example, the other day I was on the bus and there was a ten minute argument (screaming match) between a woman on the bus and the conductor because he thought her bag of beans belonged to another person who was getting off the bus at an earlier stop.  He started to take the bag of beans off the bus to give to the other person, but when the women told him they were her beans he put them back.  I still don’t why there had to be a ten minute argument about this.  Recently I have come to the conclusion that the culture of Tanzania is not a good fit for me. 

    In addition to frustrations with the culture, I have had a lot of work related stress.  I feel like a burnt out public school teacher at times.  In addition to a lack of resources (there are no books and the chalkboard is the main teaching tool I have) I am working in a system that is designed for students to fail.  I do not want to insult the Ministry of Education, but there is a huge disconnect between the people who write the syllabus and those that write the mandatory national exams.  The exams do not reflect what is on the syllabus so if they only teach the syllabus then students will fail.  If they teach to the test and don’t follow the syllabus then teachers will get in trouble with school inspectors who want to see lesson plans and schemes of work that match the syllabus.  The exams are in English (with countless grammatical errors) while most teachers use Kiswahili as the mode of instruction. There is a huge shortage of teachers in this country and I have found that most teachers are neither fluent in English nor proficient in the subjects they teach.  So I wonder if students really have a chance at being successful.  I thought when I came here that maybe I could have a positive impact on the teachers, but they do not stay at the school long enough for me to have any real influence. 

    I have been questioning my role here and the purpose of the Peace Corps in general.  In my experience, Tanzanians seem complacent and content with the way things are now.  I can’t make people change if they don’t want to.  Many teachers don’t want to be teachers so it’s hard to convince them to spend more time teaching/ preparing for class and less time socializing.  And in spite of the fact that the national government decided to make the national exams in English I can’t seem to make teachers understand the importance of using English in the classroom.  They are far more concerned with my Kiswahili than their English.  In summary, I am not happy with my service and living in Tanzania. I spend my time bouncing between indifference and misery.  After a year in country, my idealism has been replaced by reality.  Now I am just hoping to have an impact on the lives of some of my students and that has been the main thing keeping me here.  July 16^th 2013 is the earliest date I can officially leave this place. The countdown has officially begun…

Independence Day!

     Today is the 4^th of July and many Peace Corps volunteers decided to go to Lake Malawi to celebrate American independence.  I have never been known for my patriotism and am often critical of the United States.  I am highly aware of the legacy of slavery and the impact of racism in society today.  I am disheartened by the way we treat immigrants and the fact that we consume a disproportionate amount of the world’s resources.  I dislike the obsession with consumerism and selfishness.  I am ashamed of the wealth gap and the fact that some Americans have more money than they know what to do with while others are struggling to survive in poverty. I think we have a lot to learn from other cultures and hate that some Americans feel superior to the rest of the world.  And I think our public education system is shameful and needs tremendous improvement.

     That being said, after one year in Tanzania I find myself turning into one of those flag waving patriots. America is not perfect, but I wish I was there now.  I have realized the value in living in a developed nation and have no desire to spend the rest of my life in a developing country that is plagued by corruption and dependency on foreign aid. I miss my friends and family, but also the diversity of food in the United States, customer service, efficiency, major highways with more than one lane, cleanliness, electricity, water, set prices, and a system of checks and balances.  I love that in American laws are enforced (especially regarding safety) and that there is a legal system in place if laws are broken.  It also makes me happy that the United States has moved from a system of patriarchy to one that is more egalitarian.  I miss seeing women being treated with respect.  I never imagined that my Peace Corps experience would make me appreciate my own country, but strangely enough that is what happened.  I love the USA.  Flaws and all…

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY EVERYONE!

One Year Anniversary

It’s been one year since I stepped of the plane in Tanzania, ready to start my new life as a Peace Corps Volunteer.  I was extremely naive about what the next 12 months would have in store for me. I can honestly say that this has been one of the most difficult experiences of my life.  Peace Corps brochures always say, “This is the hardest job you will ever love” but I am still waiting on the “love” part.  At first I was excited about living in a rural village and getting to know the people here and learn about Tanzanian culture, but over time that excitement has subsided.  Each day holds multiple frustrations for me:  constant harassment by men in town, police corruption, lack of critical thinking, indirect communication, problems with water and electricity, horrible transportation, and an education system designed for students to fail are just a few examples.  There is high teacher turnover, so making friends has been difficult. You put in the effort to get to know teachers and their families, only to find them gone after a few months.

     They say that the one year anniversary is often the hardest for volunteers.  You have a lot of goals and expectations that remain unfulfilled, and many feel underappreciated and begin to question their purpose in this country.  For example, I expected myself to become fluent in Kiswahili, but soon learned that teaching English at a boarding school made learning the language extremely difficult.  After a full day of teaching more periods than any other teacher followed by tutoring students all afternoon, I just want to be alone in my house.  The thought of going into my village and trying to learn Kiswahili seems unappealing when I know that what I really should do is cook dinner and lesson plan. Unfortunately, certain staff members at my school judge my success as a volunteer based on my ability to converse in Kiswahili. I find this to be extremely frustrating and wonder why they wanted a volunteer English teacher in the first place.  It seems to me that it would have been easier to ask for a Tanzanian teacher if they just wanted someone to socialize in Kiswahili with. These staff members don’t really care that students are improving dramatically in English, have started enjoying learning due to interactive lessons, or that many have found a passion for reading books that does not exist in this country.  They don’t understand why I would rather mark daily English assignments than socialize with other teachers during the day and stay in my house at night. The idea of privacy and wanting to be alone does not exist here, but I have learned that if I try to change these habits and be more Tanzanian I will lose my sanity.

     One year into my service I am questioning my effectiveness here and have begun to re-evaluate my initial goals.  I know I have made an impact on the lives of some students, and need to be okay with that being enough.  There are countless days when I want to throw in the towel and go back to America, but I am too stubborn for that. I just hope my second year in Tanzania is better…

Challenging Gender Roles

     After school every day I tutor four students who want to get better in English. I give them workbooks and about an extra hour of homework every day. We meet after school to go over their assignments and I teach them the material for the next assignment.  I am currently tutoring four students, but two really stand out.  A boy named Othman in Form 2 and a girl named Glory in Form 4. Both are advanced and the top students in their class.  When I got to my site, I realized that they were often bored in class because they understood things long before their peers.  So I started tutoring them to give them a more challenging and interactive learning experience.  They are also the leaders of English Club, an after school club I started for students who wanted to practice English in a fun, informal setting.  I am just the faculty supervisor, but the students lead the group, plan meetings/ activities, etc.  Needless to say, Glory and Osman are the students I spend the most time and they have even come to my house for dinner on occasion.

     On Wednesday, Osman told me that he had a surprise for me and Glory.  He wanted to cook dinner for us!  After school he went to the village market and bought rice and vegetables, then he came to my house and cooked.  We had a delicious meal of rice with spinach and vegetables.  He prepared our plates, served us, then cleaned up my kitchen and mopped my floors. I was in shock the whole evening!  I had to take photos just to convince myself this actually happened. Gender roles are deeply rooted in this society.  Men do not cook or clean if there is a woman present and they certainly do not serve food to the women.  The fact that Osman was serving us was also surprising because he is Muslim, and I have found that Muslim men are the most traditional.  My Headmaster once told me that if I had male and female students over to my house, the girls should clean and serve the boys their meal first.  So I am guessing that this would not make him very happy.  However, I love that I am teaching my male students to respect women and help around the house at an early age.  Osman promised that when he was married, he would help his wife with cooking and cleaning.  And Glory said that she expected her husband to help with household chores.  Its refreshing to feel like I am having a positive influence on these students.

Osman cooking dinner.  He wouldn't let us help him at all.

Mopping my floors

Our dinner

Me and Glory

Osman and Glory

My Birthday Celebration in Dar es Salaam!

I had a great birthday celebration in my village with my students, but decided to celebrate in style while in Dar es Salaam.  I had to go to to Dar es Salaam for PSDN (Peer Support Diversity Network) training.  PSDN is a group of 12 Peace Corps volunteers who do crisis support for other volunteers and also lead some of the trainings for Peace Corps.  Since I had to be in Dar anyways, it was a perfect opportunity to celebrate the big 25.   My friends Danielle, Fezekile, and Patrion joined in for the celebration.  We had an AMAZING dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant called Addis in Dar.  I highly recommend it! The food is delicious and you must try the honey wine. After dinner they surprised me with a cake and the waiters brought in small candles and sang happy birthday with my friends.  It was a great day and I am lucky to have such wonderful friends!

Witchcraft and Demon Possession

     This has been one of the strangest weeks of my life.  Apparently Adam Secondary School has been plagued by witchcraft and evil spirits.  This past weekend, students accused the Matron of being a witch.  The Matron is an older Tanzanian woman who lives in the girls dormitory and looks after female students.  She is also one of the cooks and personally I really like her.  She is kind, cares about the students, tries to help me with my Kiswahili, and gladly cooked the rice I bought for my birthday.   While I was in town on Saturday, students claimed she was a witch and tried to kill her with sticks and knives. The headmaster told her to go home for a week for her own safety until this matter was cleared up.  I am really bothered by the fact that students can threaten the life of a staff member and not be punished.

     The students obviously had overwhelming evidence for their accusation.  First, they said the Matron only uses one toilet in the girl’s dormitory and she refuses to use the other toilets.  She even waits to use the toilet if someone is using the one she likes.  Also, after some of the girls used her toilet they became possessed by evil spirits.  Not all of the girls who used her toilet were possessed, but some.  Their second piece of evidence that she was a witch more convincing.  They said that the Matron refuses to walk between two people when they are talking.  She waits for them to stop talking or walks around them.  I tried to explain that this was considered polite in some cultures, but nobody listened to me.   I also didn’t believe this evidence and said this would open the gate for any staff member to be accused of being a witch.  I do weird things too.  I told him I only use one bathroom in my house even though I have two.  And I also try not to walk between people when they are talking.  Maybe I’m a witch…

     On Monday morning the witch trials began.  Students testified about why they thought the Matron was a witch.  Some said they had medicine from their home that allowed them to see who was a witch, and the medicine told them Matron was evil.  The discipline committee agreed to meet with the Matron to do a full investigation and that the trials would continue when it was safe for her to return.  I wasn't feeling well and my survival Kiswahili did not cover witchcraft, so I left the trials pretty early.  After the meeting the Academic Master explained what had happened.  One of the students I tutor gave me a student’s perspective later that evening.  She said she didn’t believe Matron was a witch but many of her friends did.  

               

     On Tuesday, the Headmaster said that students who fell over claiming demon possession would be beaten.  He said many students were just being foolish and that the Matron isn’t a witch.  Unfortunately, after the Headmaster left for a meeting in town the school erupted in chaos.  After chai, three students were suddenly possessed by evil spirits and demons.  They put mattresses on the floor in the staff room and students came to pray over them while they squirmed on the ground and yelled crazy things.  I kept hoping that the demons didn’t move from the students and find a new home at my desk.

     During this time, the teachers met to discuss whether we should postpone the exams that were supposed to be taking place this week.  The Academic Master said the environment had been disrupted by evil spirits so students couldn't focus on their studies.  I mentioned that there seemed to be a direct correlation between exams and the arrival of evil spirits, the students who are failing seemed to be the biggest victims of demon possession, and there was no guarantee that the evil spirits would be gone next week.  Plus, I think all students should learn how to take exams while they are distressed.  If this had happened during NECTA exams, the students would still have to take the exam.  Sometimes I get frustrated by how much people blame evil spirits.  If a student fails school, he or she can say it’s due to evil spirits.  It has nothing to do with a lack of studying and terrible attendance.  Similarly, illness isn't caused by drinking dirty water or sleeping without mosquito net in a malaria area.  It’s the demons that make people sick.   With these widespread beliefs, it can be difficult to change student behavior.  Students blamed the Matron for the demon possession even though she had left the school. 

     While the students were praying over those who were demon possessed, one teacher asked if I believed in God and if I had been baptized.  After I answered yes to both questions, he suggested that I go pray over the students.  I told him that my culture and belief system did not support this.  I believe in God and can’t say with 100% certainty that people don’t get possessed by demons, but evil spirits were taking over about ten students a day in a school of only one hundred.  That seems like a very high possession rate.  I also found it strange that students had the ability to remove the evil spirits themselves.  I thought demon possession would require the work of a priest who was experienced in exorcism.  The Academic Master said that only those with strong faith get possessed, but I know many people with strong faith who do not frequently get controlled by evil spirits.  Plus, wouldn’t the increased risk of demon possession discourage someone from having a strong faith? I am trying to be sympathetic, but sometimes it’s really difficult for me to understand parts of Tanzanian culture.  Especially since many other Tanzanians have told me that many students fake demon possession because they want attention, to get out of taking exams, etc.   

Surprise Inspection

     There are many school rules that I am not aware of and I think my students use my ignorance to their advantage.  One of the rules that our headmaster has decided to be very strict about is cell phones.  I understand that they are disruptive if used in the classroom, but I had no idea that cell phones were banned completely.  Especially since this is a boarding school and I figured students would want to be able to contact their parents.  After all, I had a cell phone at boarding school.  And I can’t think of a school in America where phones are banned completely.  Recently the headmaster told me he was going to be strict about phones because he cares about student safety and many are doing “bad things” with their phones.  I had heard about some Tanzanian students having sugar daddies and often having sex with them for gifts, spending money, etc.  but I did not think that was happening at this school.  He said that the school had a phone students could use to call their parents but the ones who didn’t want to use the school phone were doing bad things.

          

The girls waiting outside while the inspection took place

The Headmaster and a teacher watching a student go through her suitcase as they check for  phones

     As part of the cell phone crack down, we had a surprise inspection.  The teachers went through the dormitories looking for phones, drugs, and other things students weren’t supposed to have.  The students were called in one by one to empty their suitcases, etc. as the others waited outside.  Those who were hiding phones were beaten as punishment.  Everyone on staff has learned that I have a weak stomach for corporal punishment and school beatings, so they let me leave.  I thought about my own experience at boarding school.  I remember rooms of certain individuals being searched if they were suspected of having drugs, but they never invaded the privacy of all students.  Sometimes I wonder if students have any rights.

The River

     I am almost embarrassed to post this because I have been complaining about a water issue and the little irrigation channel behind my house that is often dry.  But today I found out there is a river behind my school.  It is behind the dormitories and completely hidden from view.  This discovery made me so happy!  I have been looking for a quiet place to read or journal and have finally found one!  I had wondered where students were getting enough water for bathing, washing clothes, etc. but assumed they were using the same little stream I was.  Clearly I was wrong.  To get to this river you have to walk down a steep hill and I am amazed that students are able to walk back up with buckets of water on their heads.  The school is set up to have running water in places, so often they get water from the faucet.  One student told me that if the water at the school is not working, they will all go bathe together in the river.  The boys and girls go to different areas and are unable to see each other.    I have learned that Tanzanians are not quite as modest as Americans and homosexuality is not acknowledged in this country, so this is completely normal.  One thing that I have not adapted to is the idea of bathing with freezing cold water.  Mbeya is a cold place (especially June through August) and I have no desire to pour ice cold water all over my body.   I really don’t know how the students can bear it…

My 25th Birthday

     Today I turned 25 years old.  That’s right.  I have now reached the quarter century mark and am starting to feel old.  With each day that passes, I will be officially closer to 30 than 20 and that’s a little scary.  I feel like I have so much to accomplish in the next 5 years!  I love birthdays (not just my own) because it is the one day of the year when people show how much they love and care about you simultaneously.  However, birthdays are not celebrated as much in Tanzania as they are in America and I thought this would be a good opportunity for cultural exchange with my fellow teachers and students. 

Today is Wednesday and probably the worst possible day for a birthday celebration if you have a job.  I couldn’t leave my village as part of a long weekend or get out of teaching my classes, but I was determined to make this day special.  As a gift for students, I bought them rice for lunch.  I should start by saying that students eat the SAME thing EVERYDAY for lunch AND dinner: ugali and beans.  I am trying to adjust to Tanzanian culture and diet, but ugali makes me sick.  I try to eat it a few times a week and each time I get a terrible stomach ache.  My body just does not want to digest it.   While the students are used to this diet, they get tired of eating the same food twice a day for four years.  So I decided to splurge and buy the school rice.  For my birthday lunch we all ate rice and beans.  This was a surprise and students did not know they would have a different meal until they walked into the dining hall.  They were so excited!  All the students stood up and sang “Happy Birthday” to me.   All of the teachers ate together in the staff room and I made chocolate no-bake cookies for the staff.  Tonight three of my students surprised me with birthday cards.  This was an extremely thoughtful gesture and I was touched that they spent the little money they had on me.  The families at this school are poor, but sometimes parents are able to give their children some spending money to use to buy pens, fruit, avocados and other things to vary their diet.  But the students spent their money on me!  The knowledge that I was making a difference in the lives of at least a few students made my birthday really special.   Sometimes I get frustrated and wonder why I joined Peace Corps in the first place.  I am lucky to have students that remind me why I am here =)

The School Garden

     One thing that I constantly worry about is the poor nutrition of students.  In the morning they have black tea and potatoes.  For lunch they eat ugali and beans.  For dinner they eat ugali and beans.  Sometimes if they have spending money, they can buy an avocado for lunch or mandazi (fried bread) for breakfast.  On Saturday, they get meat and ugali for lunch.  On Sunday, they eat rice and beans for dinner.  And on Mondays and Tuesdays they get a small amount of cabbage cooked in oil for lunch.  But that’s it.  This is what most of them eat every week for four years.   I am one of those people who loves food and eating is one of my favorite hobbies.  I have already fantasized about the delicious food I will eat when I visit America and look forward to my trips to Dar es Salaam simply because of the food diversity.  Sadly, for many students eating is for survival not joy.  Can you imagine eating the same thing every day for years??  To reward some of my top students I invite them to my house for dinner on occasion.  I have exposed them to pancakes, salad, stir fry, pizza, spaghetti, cookies, fudge, and even variations on their own foods (coconut beans, rice, and curried cabbage).  I have also started giving away bananas and oranges as rewards.  They crave food diversity and their diet lacks a significant number of nutrients needed to maintain one’s health.  Students are missing fruits and vegetables in their diet and I expressed my concerns to the school last fall.

     The main obstacle for varying the diet of students was money.  So we decided to start a school garden and have the students do the labour.  I hope to post some pictures soon, but we have prepared the land and have begun planting seeds.  My students are trying to teach me how to garden so hopefully I will have some skills when I return to America.  One issue that I learned about recently is that the school has no money for manure.  I am hoping to bring in an environment volunteer to teach them how to make compost.   Another great part about the garden is that we have developed an alternative to corporal punishment.  Now when students commit small infractions like coming late to assembly, they are not beaten with a stick.  They are sent to the garden after school to work.  The stick is still used frequently, but at least we are making baby steps…

Water Woes!

Water is something that I have always taken for granted.  Living in America, I didn't have to worry about catching rain water in my buckets or carrying water from the nearby stream.  But here, I do.  Recently, our village has had a huge water problem and students have had to hike several kilometers to fetch water for the teachers.  Yes, I have caved in and allowed students to carry water for me.  I tell myself that it is their culture and they like carrying water for their elders, but its mostly laziness.  Carrying water up hill over uneven ground is hard work, and water is heavy.  I don't have the skills to carry water buckets on my head or the coordination required to keep your head straight, eyes forward, and not trip on a rock, etc. Because there is a water shortage, I try to be very conservative and make important decisions.  For example, there is not enough water to drink, cook, bathe, clean dishes, wash clothes, clean my house and flush my toilet as often as I would like.  So I have to prioritize.  I can't stand bad smells, so bathing and flushing my toilet often take priority. I pay someone to wash my clothes, so I let her worry about the water.  I tend to do less cooking then I would like and often eat on paper plates during water shortages.

Catching rainwater has been surprisingly difficult for me.  There are days when it will rain hard enough for me to catch a good amount of water, but then I find myself competing with neighboring goats for the water in my bucket.  For example, last week I left buckets out while it was raining and I was teaching.  When I looked out the classroom window, there were six goats gathered around my buckets drinking my water.  Now, rain water is usually amazing because you can use it for drinking and don't need to go through the long process of boiling and filtering.  However, my rain water had a layer of goat saliva floating on top of it.  Now had I been in America, I would say that was gross and dump out the water.  But in Tanzania, I know not to let good water go to waste.  So I skimmed the goat spit off with a bowl then boiled and filtered the rainwater.  I think from now on I am just going to stick out my tongue when its raining.  Thats much better than competing with goats...

Are there any countries where Black men are treated well by the police?

Peace Corps is very particular about what we write on our blogs. Since we are representatives of the United States government our freedom of speech is limited.  Basically we can’t say anything extremely negative about the country we are placed in.   So I am going to choose my words carefully so that I don’t get in trouble.  I am simply going to recount the details of what happened today and if my loyal readers interpret facts as indicating government corruption, etc. that is not my fault or intention.  There are some parallels to America, so this entry is just to let you learn more about my experience living here.  

Today, my friend Peter and I went to town to buy some groceries.   When we left the store and turned onto the main road, a police officer stopped us and told us to pull over, so we did.  The road was pretty empty, but that is common on a Sunday evening, especially when it is raining.  Little did we know, the Vice President was in Mbeya and we had turned on his route.  Of course there were no signs, no cones, no excessive number of police officers, or anything to indicate that an important political leader was nearby.  We made an honest mistake.  But the police officer claimed that we were interrupting a government route and possibly planning to overthrow the government, so police made us go to the police station after the Vice President had passed.  I still don’t fully understand what we did wrong.  I can’t even imagine a similar situation occurring in America.  It is painstakingly obvious when the President or Vice President is in town.

When we arrived at the police station there was a daladala (small bus) driver who had also made the mistake of turning on the main road while the Vice President was nearby.  He was in handcuffs and the police said that he was trying to assassinate the Vice President and overthrow the government.  Although they found no weapons on the man, and he maintained that he just made an honest mistake, the police officers threw him on the ground (in handcuffs) and took turns beating him.  Some used their clubs, while other police officers preferred to kick him in the face and abdomen with their boots.  There were about ten officers and they each took their turn.  This happened in the middle of the police station right at the front desk where Peter and I were waiting.  Watching this man be brutally beaten by police for making a wrong turn was difficult and hearing his screams was too much for me to bear.  Even though it was raining, I ran outside, stood by a tree, and cried.  I know that this happens to Black men in America far more often than I would like to admit, but my mind can understand it better because of the prevalence of racism, prejudice, and stereotyping in America.  But in Tanzania, everyone is black.  And I just couldn’t watch a man who looks exactly like the police officers being beaten for what I perceived as a minor offense.  Excessive police brutality is something that I cannot easily stomach.

Meanwhile, Peter is talking to the police officers about his crime. They said they wanted to beat him like the dala dala driver, but luckily Peter has a lot of friends at the police station and an uncle who works closely with the President of Tanzania, so he was spared physical punishment. After a lot of police harassment and intimidation, there was a lot talking and negotiation. After an hour, they let us pay a fine and leave.  I should also note that the fine was much more than most Tanzanians could afford to pay and I am not sure what happened to the dala dala driver. As we walked back to Peter’s car I could still hear him screaming in agony.  Warm tears streamed down my face as we drove away.

An ET Week...

In Peace Corps lingo, “ET” means Early Termination and there are weeks and sometimes months where I am sure a majority of PCVs have contemplated leaving.  I love Tanzania and the people in this country, but there are just some days when I miss living in a highly developed nation and the American culture that I am used to: flaws and all.  Sometimes I just do not understand the society I am living in and must remind myself why I became a Peace Corps volunteer in the first place.  This past week was just difficult…let me recap.

• Last Sunday morning I watched a Tanzanian man be brutally beaten for robbing my friends bar (see previous blog post).

• On Monday and Tuesday I was sick with the flu.  I had a terrible headache, sore throat, nausea, and was extremely dizzy.  While attempting to teach my form one students I almost fell over. The rainy season, combined with the cold of living in the mountains and the lack of insulation in my house has not been a great for my health.  Of course Tanzanians want to offer their health advice, but for some reason hearing that I should go for a run for an hour didn’t seem like the ideal solution.   Considering the fact that a large number of Tanzanians do not eat a balanced diet, drink entirely too much alcohol, sleep without nets in spite of the fact that malaria is a huge killer in this country, don’t use condoms in spite of an HIV/AIDS epidemic, drink dirty water, and wash hands without soap to kill germs/bacteria, and other things, I certainly did not feel like taking health advice from villagers. Perhaps that was my American elitism kicking in, but I am not the friendliest person when I am sick.  I just wanted to sleep….

• On Wednesday I watched my Academic Master beat several students with sticks for not doing his book-keeping assignment because they didn’t understand what he taught them.  (I should add as a side note that he does not consistently teach his classes.)  It is against Tanzanian law for male teachers to beat female students when a female teacher is present. I simply reminded him of this law and then had to listen to his rant about how women shouldn’t be teachers because they are too weak to discipline students and that’s why the male teachers must do it.  Then he said even though it was the law, most Tanzanian schools don’t enforce it.  I soon had a “Two wrongs don’t make a right,” moment and reminded myself of my father…  Then my Second Master told me that the schedule for the year had changed because of the national Census.  So now the school year won’t end until December 15^th and the month long break I was looking forward to in June will no longer happen. I wish I could understand why the government waited until the school year had already started to make these changes when they knew there would be a national Census this year. 

• On Thursday, I had a conversation with some students and told them that when I was in secondary school I played basketball and lacrosse.  They started laughing then said, “Madame, we don’t believe you. You are too fat to play sports.” I know I should be used to being called fat by now, but it is just a bit of a blow to my self-esteem.

• On Friday, I had a fight with my Academic Master.  In Tanzania, people are indirect and if you have a problem with somebody you are not supposed to be confrontational.  Personally I hate this about the culture.  It is the opposite of how we are taught to communicate in Tanzania and I just don’t trust it.  So I was very American on Friday.  My Academic Master tries to guilt trip me into doing excessive amounts of work and I had finally had enough.  When I went to the wedding and missed a form one welcome that the students had planned last minute, he told me that I was not a dedicated teacher and that the students think I don’t care about them.  I wanted to tell him that I show I care by actually coming to school and teaching when I am supposed to (but of course I couldn’t say this…).  On Friday, he was telling me that I needed to supervise student debates every week after school and write reports on the debate.  I told him he could do it himself since he left every day after lunch, didn’t teach his classes regularly, and did no extra-curricular activities with students.  The conversation did not go well...

• On Friday evening, my boyfriend Peter drove to my village to watch our schools football game.  The students lost to a school that was deep in another village and blamed the referee.  Truthfully, they just played badly and wanted someone to blame.  So sportsmanship went out the window and the students began fighting with the referee and other team.  Peter had met some “friends” on his way to my village and they wanted a ride with him on his way back to town.  Of course he said yes, and they came to watch the game too.  After the game, we went to my house so I could get a few things for town and while Peter was inside his “friends” STOLE HIS CAR.  We walked to the main road trying to decide what to do (call the police, etc.) when we saw the car.  The guys had stopped to get a beer.  While they were inside we took the car and left.  Later that night, his “friend” texted him saying that they were no longer friends because Peter had left him in the village. What kind of friend steals your car and then gets mad at you for taking your car back and leaving them??

• On Saturday morning, Peter and I drove to town because Peace Corps volunteers had a meeting to plan a Girls Empowerment conference in June. On our way, we were stopped by a police officer who wasted no time asking for a bribe or “money for chai.”  She obviously stopped us because she thought that I was a rich foreigner and in this country there is apparently no need for anything that hints at probable cause.  So I gave her 1000 tsh for “chai” and she threw the money back at me because she wanted more money.  After my week, I was just PISSED.  A police officer was outwardly asking for a bribe which I find morally repugnant but it is common in this culture; then, when I offer her money she is rude/ disrespectful and throws it back at me!

After a week of witnessing corporal punishment, government inefficiency and corruption I have been feeling quite frustrated.  I work in a school where I am one of the only female teachers (we have an intern and part time teacher) and there is this feeling of superiority that some of the Tanzanian men seem to have which is annoying and ridiculous since I am the most educated teacher at the school.  But often they will take my periods for their own use and not follow the timetable.  Sometimes it feels like a constant struggle.   But my students are the reason I am here and I absolutely adore them.  They try so hard and are so smart.  They don’t have many teachers who care about their success and spend hours of their free time tutoring rather than beating them for making mistakes.  I am finally starting to see some of the results of my hard work and it makes this experience worth all the frustrations. 

Besides, things could be worse.  My friend in Mbeya had a snake in her house: A GREEN MAMBA! This snake is one of the most dangerous in the world.  I think its venom can kill you in just a few hours.  And I am petrified of snakes.  My brother took me to a snake museum before I left for Tanzania and I had heart palpitations. Now, if this snake had come into my house, I would be back in America before you could finish reading this post (or I would be dead from heart failure…) 

Tanzanian Justice

Tanzanians bring a whole new meaning to the term crime and punishment.  In a society where police are easily bribed, many people believe that justice must be taken into their own hands.  In America, a thief will go to jail, maybe get probation and pay a fine.  In Tanzania, the thief will be beaten, tortured, or killed.  In some parts of the country, they poison thieves.  In other areas they blind them by poking out their eyes with nails.  My friend Peter’s bar was robbed last night by his former security guard, and it did not take long for his staff and other members of the community to find out who was responsible and the man quickly confessed.  Soon a group of men from the community gathered at his bar and began beating the criminal.  They used a metal crowbar to carry out their own form of justice.  Another community member brought pliers, hoping to torture the man by tearing off his testicles.  Others wanted put a tire around his body, cover the tire with kerosene, and set the tire on fire so that the man burns alive.  Luckily, Peter is a good person and stopped the mob from beating and torturing the guy.  He did not want blood shed or anyone dying on his property and had his bar manager take the former security guard to the police station.

When we first arrived in Tanzania, Peace Corps volunteers were told to, “Go easy on the mwizi.” In other words, we were supposed to be gentle towards thieves.  I did not truly appreciate this advice until today.  As foreigners, we are perceived as rich and an easy target for impoverished robbers. However, if someone steals from you and you yell “Thief, thief,” a mob of Tanzanians will beat and possibly kill the criminal.  There is not much tolerance for stealing in this country.  I have not had anything stolen since I’ve lived in Tanzania, but if it happens I will think twice about my reaction.  I wonder if my 30,000 shillings (less than $20) would be worth a man getting beaten….

My First Tanzanian Wedding

Today I went to my very first Tanzanian wedding!  Peter, a Tanzanian friend of many Peace Corps Volunteers invited us to the wedding of his younger brother Francis.  The wedding was absolutely beautiful! 

The ceremony started at 2 pm took place at a Catholic Church in town. It was a pretty standard and traditional service/ mass.   It reminded me a little bit of America, except for the fact that all of the guests were late. In true Tanzanian fashion, some of the guests were over an hour late to the ceremony!  After the ceremony, the wedding party got in decorated cars and drove in a procession around town.  There was one truck that played music and people danced on it.  Once the entire city of Mbeya was aware of the marriage, the wedding party went to a nearby hotel for pictures and the guests went to the groom’s family’s house for food and drinks.  The wedding reception started around 8 pm.  We all gathered at a reception hall in town.  Similar to America, there was a lot of food, alcohol, and dancing. However, the wedding reception in Tanzania was much more formal than I was used to.  There were several different rituals that we watched.  Some were familiar, like the cake cutting, and others were very unique.  For example, there is a part of the wedding where all the guests dance up to the stage and present the bride and groom with gifts.  The bride and groom also present small cakes to everyone in the wedding party and their parents.  We didn’t leave the reception until almost 1 am!  Then we went to a club and danced the night away…

Wedding invitation

Wedding ceremony at the church

Francis and his bride Anna

Dancing guests and procession of cars after ceremony

The bride and groom at the reception

The Mbeya PCVs at the wedding reception

SUPERBOWL PARTY!!

I love sports, especially American football.  In my village, my internet connection speed is terrible.  I can’t even skype, so streaming sports through the internet is out of the question.  Although I missed the entire NFL season, I was not about to miss the Superbowl.   Luckily, there are some amazing Peace Corps volunteers in Mbeya who share my love of sports.  My friend TJ decided to host a Superbowl party because he works at a college with great internet.  In preparation, we bought lots of beer and made nachos. Because of the time difference, we had to wake up at 2 am on Monday morning just to watch.  My parents gave me an AMAZING Christmas present this year:  a mini projector.  And of course we put the gift to great use. We had a bit of difficulty streaming the game internationally and finally resorted to skype.  One of TJ’s friends in America turned his laptop towards the television so we could watch the game.  While the quality was not ideal, the important thing was that we were able to watch the Superbowl.  We streamed the radio broadcast, so we didn’t miss a thing. Unfortunately, not all of the PCVs managed to stay awake.  But of course I was cheering for the Giants until the very end.  

Watching the game

This is a terrible picture but I was trying to show how we projected the game onto the wall

TOD and a School-Wide Epidemic

I hate being Teacher On Duty (TOD) and this was the week from hell.  The teacher who is teacher on duty has to wake up early in the morning to supervise students cleaning the school, check on all the students who are sick, greet all parents and visitors, discipline students who misbehave, grant permission for students to go to the village, and deal with any issues at the school like teachers not coming to teach.  There are few things I hate more than being TOD.  I don’t believe in corporal punishment and could care less if students go the village, so me being TOD just frustrates other staff members anyways.  But this week was AWFUL!  Nearly 75% of the student body was infected by something.  We had to cancel classes and make multiple trips to the hospital. There was this creepy insect that infested the school.  It was gross.  Students started getting sick.  Eyes were swollen almost completely shut, and students complained of headaches and other flu-like symptoms.  We don’t know if the problem was some sort of eye conjunctivitis or if it had to do with the insect, but there was an epidemic that swept the school and my village. The Peace Corps doctor recommended that I stay inside my house and not have any unnecessary contact with students… clearly he did not understand that I was teacher on duty and was the person that students came to with problems or illness. 

TOD and a School-Wide Epidemic

I hate being Teacher On Duty (TOD) and this was the week from hell.  The teacher who is teacher on duty has to wake up early in the morning to supervise students cleaning the school, check on all the students who are sick, greet all parents and visitors, discipline students who misbehave, grant permission for students to go to the village, and deal with any issues at the school like teachers not coming to teach.  There are few things I hate more than being TOD.  I don’t believe in corporal punishment and could care less if students go the village, so me being TOD just frustrates other staff members anyways.  But this week was AWFUL!  Nearly 75% of the student body was infected by something.  We had to cancel classes and make multiple trips to the hospital. There was this creepy insect that infested the school.  It was gross.  Students started getting sick.  Eyes were swollen almost completely shut, and students complained of headaches and other flu-like symptoms.  We don’t know if the problem was some sort of eye conjunctivitis or if it had to do with the insect, but there was an epidemic that swept the school and my village. The Peace Corps doctor recommended that I stay inside my house and not have any unnecessary contact with students… clearly he did not understand that I was teacher on duty and was the person that students came to with problems or illness. 

The life of An African American PCV

In honor of Black History Month, African American Peace Corps Volunteers in Tanzania were asked to write about their experience for the PSDN (Peer Support Diversity Network) Newsletter.  We were told that our audience would be majority white (other PCVs) so we are not allowed to be offensive.  I am posting what I submitted below.

However, since this is my blog I can be completely honest… Being an African American Peace Corps Volunteer is like being a double minority.  You obviously aren’t Tanzanian, but you don’t always fit in with your majority white fellow volunteers.  When I am in my village I am clearly labeled as a foreigner due to my ignorance to their culture and difficulties with Kiswahili.  I think my skin color is irrelevant to Tanzanians who see me regularly.  The time I am most aware of being Black is when I am with other volunteers.  I have been in restaurants with fellow volunteers and ex-patriots who treat the Tanzanian staff like house slaves and make comments that are so blatantly racist it makes my skin crawl.  I have also been in conversations with other volunteers where frustrations in teaching turn to overgeneralizations about the intellectual inferiority of Black people and why Tanzanian students just “can’t learn.”  Rather than simply rant about my own thoughts on this, I would love to hear the comments of some of my loyal readers.  In the age of Obama, American racism continues to astound me…

Submission for PSDN Article:

     I have always had a strong sense of racial pride and my African American identity has shaped my perception of the world.  When I found out that I would be a Peace Corps volunteer in Tanzania I was overjoyed by this sense of returning to the motherland and helping my fellow black brothers and sisters.  Unfortunately, my experience thus far has led to an unexpected racial identity crisis.  In the United States, my black identity was taken for granted. While I would occasionally be asked if I was biracial, as a result of our infamous “one drop rule” my race was never questioned.  In college I spent a semester in Cape Town, South Africa and was quickly labeled as “colored.”  Apartheid had created this racial category for everyone who was light in complexion (although clearly not white) or of mixed ancestry.  While I was struck by the blatant racism in South Africa and the division between Blacks and Colored’s, I could identify with being a racial minority in a country that was oppressed by whites.  Although I am “Black” in America and “Colored” in South Africa, I was not prepared to be categorized as white when I arrived in Tanzania.  

            During training I heard the lovely echo of “Mzungu” as I walked with other PCVs, and sincerely believed that they were not talking about me.  Clearly they were referring to my white peers.  Then, on my first day of internship teaching my bubble of self-delusion burst.  One student said to me, “Madame, we would love to hear more about the experiences of white people like you in America.”  This comment confused me. I immediately responded by telling the student that I do not know about the experience of white people in America because I am Black like all of them.  Then I tried to explain how Black people in the United States are all different shades and that its important to look at facial features, hair texture, etc. and not just skin color.  I was met with blank stares as I realized I was speaking a foreign language both literally and figuratively. So I gave up but decided to do a preemptive strike when I reached my site.  I teach form one English and I was able incorporate race into lessons on family and physical appearance.  As I showed my students pictures of my family and our spectrum of skin color, they were able to appreciate Black diversity. One of my students said, “Wow, Black people are so beautiful.” In a society still healing from the wounds of colonialism and Western conceptions of beauty, this comment made me so happy! My students have also learned that I am, “Light, not white.”

            At first being called white both annoyed and offended me.  But then I learned how arbitrary race is.  What matters is how you see yourself and if you are confident in your own identity, it doesn’t matter how many times you hear the word “mzungu.”

Happy New Year!!

Happy New Year!! I know I have been a terrible blogger over the past 4 months, but my New Years resolution for 2012 is to be more consistent about blogging and write back to all of the people who have been kind enough to send me letters and packages.  Since I consider my life pretty boring and routine at this point, I would love to hear your comments, questions, or topics you want me to blog about. Overall, I have been doing well just extremely busy.  There was a period where I was the only teacher at the school and was trying to teach every form and help them prepare for exams.  Luckily, that will not happen again this year. I have deactivated my Facebook account, so this blog is now my main way of letting everyone know what has been going on in my life.  I have this feeling that 2012 is going to be a big year for me and I want to focus all of my attention on personal growth and my students. 

It’s hard to believe I have been in Tanzania for 7 months already!  There are only 20 months left of my service (unless I decide to extend) and I have so much that I still want to accomplish.  The school year officially starts next week and I am frantically trying to prepare.  My father came to visit over the holidays and brought me some new toys to use for teaching, so I am super excited!  (I plan to blog about his trip, so be sure to look at backdated posts). I am on a mission to make school and learning more enjoyable for my students.  However, my greatest task will be teaching critical thinking skills.  I am not sure how old I was when I first started asking questions about the world or challenging authority figures (i.e. my parents) on the logic behind their rules, but Tanzanian youth are discouraged from doing this.  So if anyone has any suggestions for me on how to teach or promote critical thinking, please let me know!  I will be teaching form one, form two and form three English this year (freshman, sophomores and juniors) as well as implementing the Grassroots Soccer program in our school/ village.  It is going to be a busy year for me, but I am excited! 

I hope that 2012 is off to a good start for all of you and I promise to keep you posted on my adventures in Africa.