Learning to Live

So it seems like every week there’s a particular challenge that I face when going about my day-to-day business. The first week it was learning how to use my choo (pit latrine) that was clearly designed by a man, for a man. The next week it was learning how to cook one serving of one meal for one person due to the fact that anything that sits out for more than 8 hours is covered in mold. This past week the challenge has been learning how to bicycle (on a broken bike) wearing a skirt. Quite the challenge! And today when I decided to brave the 2 hour bike ride to town, I cheated and wore pants with a cloth wrapped around my waste which was much less frustrating attire than my usual long flowing skirt.

I’m slowly making the adjustment to village life, which has an entirely different pace than what I’m accustomed to. For the most part, time here passes slowly—people work a few hours in their farms and spend the afternoons greeting each other and drinking pombe (local alcoholic brew) under mango trees. Perhaps the most exciting day I’ve witnessed in my village was when the Standard 7s (the equivalent of 7th or 8th grade in the States) completed their exams last week, thus ‘graduating’ Primary school. They ran from the school building through the entire village beating drums and chanting songs. I walked to the Secondary school that day at 2 pm and already the celebrations were well under way with entire families drinking copious amounts of pombe, singing and dancing. For most students in my area, finishing Primary school is a huge achievement and they are now free from the 'cage' of education. Some will return to the farms with their parents, never touching a book again. Some will pass their exams and wish to continue to Secondary school but will not be able due to their families unwillingness or inability to pay school fees. Some will move to a nearby town and try to find a job as a house-girl or motorcycle driver. A small few will continue their education to Secondary school, which will provide them a better chance of breaking into the job market, provided they are able to graduate without becoming pregnant or having their parents pull them out because they are needed at home to work the farms. While Tanzania is praised for their Education reform that has made Primary school compulsory and more affordable, the education system is in shambles due to lack of qualified teachers, poor curriculum, and a culture that puts much more value on making money on the farm. Last week a Standard 1 (more or less a Freshman in high school) came by my house and told me that he wanted to learn English. I was excited for a new friend so I tested him with simple English greetings and he stared at me blankly. I returned to Kiswahili and asked him what he wanted to learn and he pulls out his chemistry notes which contained, in perfect penmanship, Laboratory Protocols, Oxidation Reactions, The process of refining oil, etc. all in English. In high school all national exams are given in English so students are expected to learn the material in English. The teachers themselves don’t even know English so education becomes rote memorization of definitions and processes written in a foreign language on a chalkboard. I asked him to read his notes out loud for me and he was unable to do that. The only thing I could do was sit with him and my English-Swahili dictionary and look up some of the terminology. Although there is tremendous opportunity to help, it made me glad that I am not an Education volunteer trying to work within the Tanzanian system!

One of the most frustrating things by far has been trying to learn the local dialect of Kiswahili without any formal instruction. Because of this language barrier, finding good contacts in my village has been a struggle as well as identifying the areas where I could make an impact. There are certainly obvious areas that need improvement, for example at the Secondary School I’ve only met one teacher for over 250 students and while working at the clinic last week three sixteen-year-old girls came in with surprise pregnancies in one morning. But for the most part, the village runs smoothly and the small health clinic is able to provide for the basic health needs of the population. Without much language or village exposure, I’m sure I’m only seeing the surface of things. Currently I’m writing the house-to-house survey that I’m going to start conducting next week to learn about the resources in my village and areas that villagers identify as problems. I’m excited to begin the survey since I feel like it will be a good way to get out in my new community, meet people, practice my Kiswahili, and learn about the opportunities for work here. Bring on next week’s challenge!

I hope all is well, where ever you may be—You are certainly being missed here!
Love,
Katie