Hats off to teachers

Last week, the preschool teacher at the community center went on vacation. She asked if Courtney could sub in for four days. Teaching 30 kids, aged 4-6, for three hours a day? How hard could it be? We both volunteered to help. Courtney had been helping out at the preschool pretty regularly, and had warned me that it would be difficult. But I’d only been a few times. I was not ready for such intense feelings of helplessness, personal incompetence, and simultaneous love and hatred for little children.

On Monday, the first few kids showed up at school right on time. They were smiling and happy. They even held our hands for a bit. It was wonderful.

But 30 minutes later, when all of the kids had finally arrived, things changed. Our day with the preschoolers turned to madness. Courtney and I tried having all of the kids in one classroom, teaching them the names of the different colors. Oops. The ones who already knew the colors started shouting them out and not paying attention, and the ones that didn’t know the colors just started hitting one another and crying. These were the same kids that had been so docile at the beginning of the day! This wasn’t going to be easy.

So Courtney took half of the kids, and I tried to keep teaching colors to the other half. 45 minutes until break for porridge. I could keep their attention that long, right? I tried, I really did. I wasn’t lecturing either. I was singing, dancing, having kids work in pairs, and anything else I could think of. But within 15 minutes, they were crying and hitting again. Instead of crying myself, I gave up on the lesson and let them outside.

Outside was also a disaster. They kept crying and hitting, though now they were running around and harder to manage (which was all I was trying to do at that point). “Where are you going?” “What are you doing?” “Don’t hit!” “Why are you crying?”

Imagine this: Kids are playing peacefully together, then one second later they’re hitting each other and really fighting. One starts crying. You try to tell them that they can’t hit, and pull them apart. Then one of them gets angry and hits you.

What to do? I started marching around, back and forth between buildings, singing and dancing. Then suddenly, when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the kids started following me. And then one of the kids started singing in time with the marching, and all the rest of the kids started singing along. It was brilliant! We walked back and forth between buildings for 20 minutes! Singing together! What great kids!

Monday was the hardest day, but not a single second of any of the four days was easy. By the end of that fourth day, we were exhausted and ready for our vacation to Mbeya (more on that later).

Why was teaching the kids so hard? I’ll stay away from discussing the Tanzanian tendency towards rote memorization and corporal punishment in schools. Certainly being fluent in Swahili would have helped, but really I think that teaching has to be just about the hardest job around. I’m just proud that there were moments when the kids were engaged and creative and lovely. Those moments made the whole experience worthwhile for me, and hopefully for them too.

Hats off to you, teachers!

Visa

What does it take to get a visa in Tanzania? Four months, a lot of patience, really good friends, and even better Friends of Friends.

When we first arrived in Tanzania, we both had tourist visas that lasted about two months. But to volunteer long term, we needed volunteer visas. So our first few days in Tanzania we spent in Dar es Salaam trying to obtain these visas.

During those first few days, we went to the immigration office five times to be told each time “you need to address you cover letter differently” or “you need the official MCW stamp” or “you need two copies of your passport, not one.” The immigration office is an over-crowed, windowless room where lines do not exist, so you have to stand in the masses, pushing your way to the window to be yelled at by a power-hungry immigration officer. We say that with a tinge of sentimentality, because we’ve been there over 10 times.

We were able to navigate our way to having all of the correct documents, but the official MCW stamp was in Songea, so, defeated, we boarded the bus to Songea to try there.

In Songea, our quest continued. Over the course of five days and six visits to the Songea immigration office, we filled out all the forms, got all the stamps, and addressed the letter correctly. Finally, the office there told us that our packet (of our entire life history, resume, transcripts, etc) was ready to go, but that they couldn’t actually process it in Songea. We had to take it back to Dar es Salaam (a 15 hour bus ride) for that.

Since the processing time for a visa is supposed to be about a week (or so we thought), we decided to outsource, and sent our packet with the processing fee ($120 USD per visa) with a friend to Dar es Salaam. Over the next month, the saga continued. Through phone conversations with the friend in Dar es Salaam, we learned that Arthur’s was dropped off but not paid for, and that Courtney’s couldn’t be processed because they needed her teacher certificate. We were still a long way from success.

Unfortunately, our friend had to come back to Songea, so he handed over our money and application to a friend of his, who he swore he trusted. Friend of a Friend. After waiting a month, having Courtney’s tourist visa expire, the FriendOfaFriend told us our visas were ready, and that he would send them right away. Success?

No. An entire month went by without a visa. The FriendOfaFriend didn’t answer his phone. Where were our visas? After a month of repeated phone calls, we finally learned, through another friend, that the FriendOfaFriend had never actually gone to the immigration office. Instead, he had stolen the money, then just told us a story to string us along. Great. No money, no visa, and two months later we were still at square one.

We got lucky and got our money back (through an act of generosity of a different friend of the FriendOfaFriend), and tried again with a new person in Dar. Another FriendOfaFriend. The first thing he told us was that he had another friend in the immigration office, who had told him that if we paid an extra $200 USD we could get our visas in a week. Bribes aren’t our style, so we didn’t do it. Another month goes by. Arthur’s visa is days away from expiring, and Courtney’s has been expired for almost two months. But the New Year brought us some luck. Because they had already accepted his paperwork, Arthur was able to get his volunteer visa by going to the immigration office and pestering the officer relentlessly. Partial success!

Courtney on the other hand still had nothing. The immigration office now said that she needed a Tanzania teacher certification even though she isn’t teaching in a government school.

After another few trips to the immigration office, Courtney was able to get a month extension on her tourist visa (they did not comment on the fact that it had been expired already). But we were at the end of the line for getting Courtney’s volunteer visa, so we started to look for help elsewhere.

We needed more a more reliable FriendOfaFriend. We went to the former Tanzanian ambassador to the UN (an acquaintance through MCW). He was friends with the director of immigration and he said he would talk to him. Three more weeks go by and Courtney’s visa expired again. On that same day, the director of immigration called Courtney on the phone and said that they could work things out, but did not actually approve her visa. Not sure why.

But then, the next day, February 2^nd, exactly 4 months after arriving, the ambassador called saying he had Courtney’s volunteer visa in his hand.

Cheers to FriendsOfFriends!

Vacation Pictures

Here are some pictures from our vaction with family over December holidays.

Arthur and his dad on safari

Lars, Courtney, and Arthur enjoying the beach

Arthur, Courtney, and Bebeth enjoying Stone Town

Kids playing on Stone Town (photo courtesy of Mark Steudel)
An alley in Stone Town (photo courtesy of Mark Steudel)Mark and Arthur being dorky

Snapshots From Our Life

1. Saidi, the little four year old who spends most of his time at our house, asks Courtney for some soap. If he isn’t clean he can’t go to school. So Courtney gives him a small piece of soap and watches him through the window as he walks home. A few feet from the house he stops, looks around, and proceeds to pee all over his hands and soap, and then proceeds to wash his hands with the soap. Then he continues home. He had the right idea, needing water, but he needs a little lesson on hygiene!
2. At 4:30 in the afternoon, six kids come by the house. Arthur goes out to talk to them and asks them about school. An impromptu geography lesson begins and a world map is brought out. The kids listen with rapt attention as they learn where in the world Tanzania is.
3. A friend of ours who works at a local all girls’ boarding school invited us to Friday night movie night, a club he started at his school. He brought a projector and movies from America just so that he could start this club. For this, only the second time he has shown a movie, we were expecting a low-key event. We arrive at the auditorium 30 minutes before anyone is supposed to arrive, and there are already 100 girls waiting outside for the movie. By the time the movie is supposed to start, there is a loud roar outside the door from the excitement of all the girls. A large sheet is hung, speakers rigged up, and the projector is ready to go. The door is opened and music is turned on. The 200 girls are so excited that they start screaming, running, pushing, shoving, and yelling, all trying to get a seat. Even the headmistress came. She got a seat, but many of the girls had to stand while we all watched “High School Musical.” For us and the students at the Songea Girls’ Boarding School in Tanzania, it was the cultural event of the week!
4. Kids in Songea know some English words, but generally don’t know their direct translations, so their use of them often comes across in unintended ways. There are some phrases that are harmless, and some which reveal the serious cultural obstacles that we face here. I (Arthur) was walking home from town at 5:00 in the afternoon, when a group of six kids, all about 12, yelled out “good morning, sir.” This is a very common occurrence, because in primary school all of the students must great their teachers in this way. Unfortunately, the kids are not taught what the words mean, so only think of “good morning sir” as a generic greeting. I knew these particular kids, so I stopped and went over to talk to them, and to explain the different English words for times of the day, and that it certainly was not morning. After only a couple of minutes, they understood, and looked genuinely excited that they had learned some English. I was happy that they had been receptive, and felt somewhat of an accomplishment for having taught them something. Then, just when I was about to leave, one of the bigger kids, clearly showing off for his younger friends, says “Give me money.” While I was able to explain to the kids that I would not give them money, and that they shouldn’t just ask for money when they see me, correcting the mentality behind this phrase would be more difficult than distinguishing between morning and night.
5. We were lying in bed reading one night, when Arthur felt something on his shoulder. Not thinking much of it, he brushed it off, then looked and saw a scorpion scampering away. Just a small one, but a scorpion is a scorpion. We looked for it to make sure it was really gone, and couldn’t find it, so gave up. Then, just when we were about to go to sleep, Arthur picks up his pillow, and the scorpion is just sitting there. This time we smooshed it as it tried to run away.
6. More on scary insects: We’ve got lots of spiders here, but this has to be the biggest and scariest we’ve seen. Each of these legs is about 2 inches long. We spotted this one by the bank in town.

Rabies

We wanted to update you all on a touch of bad luck we had in the last week. After a wonderful back-to-back family vacation, we returned to Songea. Arthur’s dad (Lars) was with us to see what life was like for us there. We were excited to show him around and for him to see what we do every day. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned.

When we got back, our cat was unwell. At first we thought she was nervous from all the change, hadn’t been fed while we were gone, or something along those lines. We realized after she ran into a wall, wouldn’t eat, hid in a desk drawer, and tried to hide down a choo (like a cat trying to climb down a toilet bowl) that she was not well. Unfortunately, we had both been scratched by her before we figured this out. All symptoms pointed towards rabies, which wasn’t good for us or Mango.

Even though we were just scratched (and not bitten) there is still a very small chance that we could have contracted rabies. Seeing as we are very far from anywhere, there are no vets, and once symptoms appear there is no cure, we had to take all precautions. We luckily had both gotten the recommended series of three rabies shots before we left the states, but even those shots only buy extra time once a rabid animal has bitten or scratched you. After exposure, two additional shots are needed. Unfortunately, that medicine is not available in Songea. We knew that we needed to get to either Dar es Salaam or Nairobi (Cape Town and Johannesburg were other options), but even Dar es Salaam, the closest, would take us 2 days by bus. After many calls to the states, tireless help from Courtney’s parents and MCW, our insurance company came around after they were told by the CDC that, yes, we did need medical attention. So 36 hours after being scratched, a plane was in the air on the way to get us.

After only being back in Songea for 24 hours we had to rush to pack up again and explain to everyone why we were leaving again. The hardest part was that we had put Mango down. While this was heart-wrenching to us, it was the most humane thing to do, and necessary to protect the rest of the community. Since there is no vet in the area, Arthur had to undertake the task. This was painful and very hard to do but Mango will also be remembered as our loving first pet.

After this painful task, the three of us boarded a plane to Dar and landed three hours later (much better than the 15 hour bus ride!). We went straight to the Aga Khan hospital, which was supposed to be the best in the city but was, surprisingly empty. After searching for the emergency room, having to ask a few people for help, we met with a “doctor.” He told us that they were out of the medicine and he didn’t know where we could get it. We had hoped that our insurance company had called the hospital before paying to have us flown all that way to Dar, but they had not. We found a phone book and started calling all the hospitals in Dar. We finally found a doctor who said he had what we needed.

At this point, due to great research from everyone in the US, we knew the drug we needed and in what dose but we did not know where to find it. But as you all know the same drug can have many different generic names, which was complicating our search.
We got in another cab and headed to the second hospital. The doctor was kind of strange looking, with a dyed black and bright orange beard that was covered in a “beard net” (sorry if this is a religious symbol we don’t mean to offend anyone), but seemed to be very knowledgeable and asked all the right questions. He did also have a brief case open on his desk full of medical supplies that looked like the kind doctors carried in the 1800’s. Neither the hospital nor the doctor inspired confidence, especially given that we were looking for an injection of a drug we didn’t know the name of. Nevertheless, he assured us that he had the drug that we were looking for. We wanted to double check with doctors in America before taking the drug, and weren’t able to before the hospital closed. We went back to the hotel, at this point only 48 hours after we had gotten to Songea.

After a lot of hard work by everyone in the US again, we determine that the drug the doctor had been offering us was indeed almost the same drug as the American version, and, although not approved by the FDA, it was approved by the World Health Organization. It was also the only drug of its kind available within 2,000 miles, so we decided to take it. The work of family and friends in the US also found another health clinic in Dar, this one fully stocked and run by western doctors that are very knowledgeable. So the next morning, within 60 hours of being scratched, we got our first shot. We are now safe and sound in Dar waiting for our second shot, which must be administered three days after the first. We will be on a bus back to Songea on Monday after a long and stressful week ready to get back to our “normal” life.

Traveling to Zanzibar

Zanzibar. Sounds far away, right? Not only is it off the coast of Africa, there are two Zs in the name. Might as well be a world apart from the USA. Well that’s where we planned to spend Christmas, along with Courtney’s sister Bebeth and brother in law Mark. We thought that because we were in the same country (Zanzibar is an island off the coast of mainland Tanzania, and part of the United Republic of Tanzania) it would be easy to get there. We were wrong:

1: Our house to Songea bus station. At 5:15 am the taxi driver arrived 30 minutes early with his horn blaring and lights flashing. On the way to the bus station the car ran out of gas. Not all that unusual, but also not a great start to our trip. Also, Courtney had been feeling sick for a couple of days, so we were hoping for relatively easy travel.

2. Bus from Songea to Iringa. Two weeks before, this drive had taken 9 hours. This time, our driver tried to make it in 6. He drove so fast through the windy mountain roads that we were forced to put on our seat belts just to stay in our seats.

3. 100km from Iringa: We would have made it to Iringa in 6 hours, but about 100km outside the city, the bus comes to a stop. Up ahead, two trucks had crashed and completely blocked the road. During the two hours that it takes to clear the accident, Courtney, who all of a sudden feels much sicker after our roller coaster ride through the mountains, is on the side of the road throwing up.

4. Overnight in Iringa: Leaving Courtney sick in bed, I went to buy the tickets for the second half of the bus ride. The bus company messed up our reservation (you can’t purchase over the phone or the internet like you can in the USA) so we were forced to choose between the lesser bus companies. We turned down “The Malaria Express” and opted instead for “Upendo”, which means “love” in Swahili. The next morning, found out why they still had seats available.

5. Iringa to Dar es Salaam: We were on the Upendo bus at 5:30 am. The bus was not only run down, but also had an extra seat per row (3 on one side of the aisle). We sat in the window and middle seat, praying that we would get a child next to us. We got our wish, but the child was accompanied by his very large mother who promptly took our window seat. She was too large for her seat, so she took up half of Courtney’s seat. She also did not buy a ticket for her son, who was told to stand in Courtney’s leg space. That meant that Courtney’s legs were in Arthur’s space, and Arthur’s legs were taking up the aisle. To top it off, the woman’s name was Upendo, the same as the bus.

Upendo pulled out of the station right on time, but pulled right back in. A police officer got on and told us that the road ahead was blocked by another accident, and we would have to walk down the hill while the bus “off roads” to get down. So we followed the rest of the passengers through the winding streets and down the hill, to wait for Upendo, hoping it would show up with our bags on it. After a while, it did. So we got back in our seats, nice and cozy with Upendo (who proceeds to “borrow” Courtney’s iPod for several hours without asking) and her son, and we continue on the 9 hour cramped and hot bus ride to Dar.

6. Dar bus station to the hotel: Standing in the pouring rain with our bags, we ask a taxi driver if he knows where our hotel is. He says yes, and we agree to pay him 11,000 Shillings. After driving for 100 yards, he tells us he actually doesn’t know where our hotel is. So we give him the address, and he says he will have to charge us 20,000, because it’s very far. We tell him no way, and he grudgingly keeps driving. Once we finally arrive, he tells us that we need to pay him more than 11,000, because it was farther than he thought, and he had scraped the bottom of his car on the crappy roads. We say no way, knowing that we’re paying him a fair price. The hotel tells us the normal rate is 8,000.

6. Dar es Salaam to Zanzibar: So we made it to Dar. Once we’ve met up with Bebeth and Mark, we get on the 2 and half hour ferry ride to Zanzibar. Even though Zanzibar is the same country, they still stamp passports upon arrival. Bebeth and Mark got through just fine, but they took our passports and held them. Courtney started to stress because, despite 20 trips to the immigration office, she still doesn’t have a volunteer visa and her tourist visa has expired (that is for another blog post). After waiting a while, they pulled us into the office and told us we hadn’t paid enough for our visas. We kindly point out that the fee went up after we had purchased our visas. They look and say “ok” stamp our passport and let us go, not staying anything about the expired visa.

Finally, 58 hours after leaving Songea, we had made it to Zanzibar.

Songea Videos

For christmas gifts for our families we made a video of a day in the life of Courtney and Arthur in Songea. We decided to share it with everyone so they would have a glimps of our life there and what it really is like. We hope you enjoy the movies!

Welcome to our world


Felix


Mama Sofia


Saidi


Cooking - Part I


Cooking - Part II


Morning Walk


Songea Town


Songea Market


Songea Grocery


Post Office


Lunch


Preschool


End of Day - Goodbye!