Updates on Amka

I'm sure all of you could tell how stressed I was my first week or two of volunteering at the preschool. I truly still feel stretched thin, and many mornings I find myself wondering what on Earth I can and should do next to address the dozens of challenges my children face every day. It's a tough place to stand strong in... knowing what I know about teaching, and what these kids deserve, and how little they really have... and how ill-equipped and ill-prepared I still feel for the task at hand, to be honest. But then I think about a couple of really important things...

1. What my expectations for myself really are (as briefly described previously), and that they are, in fact, obtainable, if I stay the course and continue to earnestly and honestly work my tail off (because, gosh darn it, those kids are worth it);

2. They're just kids. They may be pretty naughty, and they may beat each other over the head with their tiny fists every once in a while, and they may come from one-room homes where poverty and hunger and violence are the norms... but really? They're just kids, and they're like every other kid in the world. They just want love, attention, and some fun, whenever possible. I can give them that... and more. I also have power to teach them some things, and that's a gift I came all the way from America to share.

So, anyway, after spending some time being confused about how I could contribute and what my role really was here, etc. etc., I had an informal meeting with Mama Naseem. She wanted to meet me, and I just wanted to get to know her and ask her questions about how and why she started Step Up... what she hoped for her students, etc. This one meeting (and a subsequent chat with Olivari, the one teacher I work with at the new Step Up extension school) nearly tripled my confidence level and drive to do good by these kids. No joke. I feel like I am part of a team now, striving for a really important victory. Sound corny? I bet it does, but I'm totally being earnest, and it was the best feeling in the world.

In a country where corporal punishment in schools is still WIDELY used, Mama Naseem has created a safe haven of a learning environment. She wants her students to feel welcomed and comfortable at school (as home-life often isn't both or either)and to associate learning with fun and persistence, not pain and embarrassment; thus, no one uses the cane on her kids. She wants her school to give children the skills, smarts, and confidence they need to succeed in primary, secondary, and university; thus the inclusion of English in the curriculum, in addition to extra tutoring sessions every afternoon, evening and weekend morning for anyone who wants to learn. She loves that volunteers come in to help, as it not only opens the door for new ideas, extra help, and cultural exchange, but also allows her to promote her school to local families as a place that employs native English speakers -- a real rarity here.

Her hope, she explained to me, was that the new school where I have started working (Amka, which opened in January) would be as colorful and full of life as the original... but it just isn't there yet. Parents don't want to send their kids there, as it's not as bright, cheerful, and safe as the original (where Mama Naseem herself lives... someone they know and trust -- another bonus), and there are no resources. But Mama Naseem has so much faith in her new school, and so much passion towards her cause... it catalyzed a new energy in me, breathing new life into the core of why I packed up my life and moved to Africa.

So what have I been doing for the past week, you ask? Well, I've brought in a handful of children's books I hunted down every single day. I read to them, and then I let them share and pass around the books themselves, so they get a chance to explore the books on their own. It's magical how pumped they get about this.


I've also photocopied at least a half dozen different coloring book pages and collected as many crayons and colored pencils as possible, so that they could have some fun with art and practice their colors and English vocabulary. Last week, I did a few mini-lessons on "Animals" and "Animal Habitats," having them practice writing and drawing animals and identifying their homes (in English and Kiswahili, as I need as much practice as they do, haha), in addition to browsing animal books and singing any and every song I can possibly remember about animals. (You'd be surprised how many are out there if you reached into the depths of your memory bank, let me tell ya.)

This week, I dove head-first into "Shapes," as they don't know a triangle from a rectangle from a circle... but my goodness, are they cute. I cut out dozens of construction paper shapes and had them paste them to their own pieces of paper, collage-style, and it was basically a blast.

[True story: When I held up the construction paper hearts and asked them "What shape is this?" they all promptly responded, "I love you! I love you!" To which I responded, "Yes, ndiyo. That's correct!" and then proceeded to melt and kiss them all on the top of the head. So I'm basically the worst educator ever. haha]

Anyway, in addition to my adventures in teaching in Swahili (which I'm painstakingly studying every evening after dinner), I also had a chance to ask Olivari and Naseem if they would like me to see if I could paint the front porch "classroom" of my preschoolers (being that I do have several summers as a paint crew employee under my belt), and they were all for it! Thus my research for finding cheap and brightly colored paint, rollers, and masking tape in Moshi town as well as rallying my fellow volunteers for extra help begins! What do you think, guys? Teal? Royal blue? Periwinkle?


(My classroom at AMKA... minus the future fun paint job)

More to come!
Most sincerely, Sarah

How the West was Won

Two days before Thanksgiving, I hopped in a bus bound for an African orphanage. We were only there for one hour, but it was one of the more fulfilling hours of my life. I didn’t even do very much, but the little I did do felt more meaningful than some of my biggest and boldest moves.

After stopping by a local grocery window to buy all the bread, sugar, flour, and cooking oil several thousand shillings could buy (to give to the nuns and children upon our arrival), we walked into the orphanage – specifically, the baby room – and I fell in love. I plopped down on the floor, pulled a baby (and sometimes two) into my lap, and barely moved for the next sixty minutes. You see, the only thing (aside from food and comfortable sleep) that these beautiful babies want is Love. Cuddles and tickles. Human touch. That’s it. Something we all take for granted, and I’ve never been happier to provide.

It reminded me of the hour I spent at the infirmary in Jamaica, visiting the sick and disabled that the world had dropped off and left behind… people who want little more than someone to talk to, someone who will acknowledge them, read to them, hug them, look at them. And it happens so little.

Both of these separate experiences, in very different parts of the world, remind me of how lucky I am to have people in my life who care about me, love me, hug me; it’s so very humbling. And so, in case I’ve forgotten to say so recently, let me take this chance to tell you how much I appreciate and care about each of you – my friends, family, and mentors following along as I try to share the love you gave me and the compassion that you taught me in other countries and communities and homes. I cannot thank you enough. My cup runneth over.

And with one tiny, innocent, genuine smile from the beautiful baby orphan in my arms, my Western heart was wholly won over that day. I cannot wait to go back.

Two-Buck Chick

One of my fellow volunteers here at CCS, Ed (who sadly leaves Tanzania with his lovely partner-in-crime, Jane, today) has been working at the local juvenile detention center these past three weeks. Not long after his arrival there three weeks ago, he discovered that one of the things the boys (and one girl resident) needed most was a chicken coop… as they are desperately in need of another source of income, food, and responsibility (i.e., eggs). Their days are normally filled with…well, not much (another volunteer teaches them some lessons in the morning, and they have a small garden, but that’s about all there is to do), so life’s more than a little bleak. We have learned, however, that for some of the kids, the ju-vee is a better home than wherever they came from – imagine that, for a minute. A barbed-wire compound with nothing but yard and some large bunk-rooms (and one “classroom”) -- a better home than Home.

Anyway, Ed decided that before his three weeks were up, he would make sure a chicken coop was built and some chickens were bought so that day-to-day life at the detention center could be a little more comfortable and purposeful. Enlisting the other volunteers’ help, I found myself joining Ed at the detention center one day to see if I could lend a hand in constructing the coop. Although I was largely unhelpful (some of the young residents were pitching in, so my extra hands were mostly unneeded), I was happy to support the project and take part in what Ed later dubbed the “2 Buck Chick” campaign (guess where he dreamed up the inspiration for this name, haha).

“2 Buck Chick” is exactly what it sounds like – for two bucks, one can sponsor a baby chicken for the ju-vee coop. Isn’t it incredible, the impact two dollars can make in this world? (At home, it can almost buy you a bottle of Charles Shaw – decidedly a good deal, haha; here, it means food and income for weeks and months to come.) Many of the volunteers as well as several staff members at the Home Base have pitched in, and after many days searching for healthy, cheap chicks (people keep trying to charge extra because Ed is a mzungu, and there’s a lot of “he-said, she-said” about who currently possess chickens for sale), and only a few days of construction, the coop is now finished!

In case you were wondering, I insisted that the chick I sponsored be named Chuck. Or Joe.

Visiting Villages

Since I have arrived here, I have had the opportunity to visit two different northern Tanzanian villages – Rau and Marangu.

Rau -- located only about 5 minutes away from our home-base in Moshi – is an extremely impoverished area. On the way there, we (the other volunteers and I) were thrown around inside our van like popcorn kernels cooking in a microwave bag – typical of this area and my time here, as the roads are not paved, instead just a winding maze of packed dusty, orange dirt littered with chicken, goats, and people… and the inside of the van is ALWAYS hot.

On either side of this road through Rau are metal, cardboard, and wood plank homes often no bigger than a garden shed back home, plopped amongst the trees (which are flowering beautiful reds and purples right now), bushes, and trash of Africa. Laundry lines of shirts, pants, and brightly patterned kangas blow in the breeze in every direction.



Our first stop in Rau was to visit the chief, who graciously invited us into his home so that he could answer any questions we might have about the village and his role as chief (i.e., settling any disputes among villagers, addressing issues such as school truancy, unemployment, and the local alcohol problem [which is sadly all too common around here, particularly for men who get a little lazy, choosing instead to camp out at the local tiny shack bar sipping banana brew all damn day long while the women do much of the work]).

After the Q & A, he proudly showed us his motorized bicycle and then gave us a tour of his own chicken and goat supply out back. Meanwhile, we became surrounded on all sides by Rau’s children, who seemed to have materialized shyly out of the trees. With each passing minute they became more and more bold, eventually following us around for the rest of the afternoon. After visiting several other households in Rau, stopping periodically to examine the quietly working women’s tidy family garden plots, copious amounts of beautiful sewing and washing work, and the never-ending job of child-rearing (not to mention many of them have outside work to bring home extra money for their children’s school fees and empty bellies), we stopped at a children’s center where each are taught (by local volunteers) tremendous art skills (in addition to basic ed). I nearly cried at how beautiful the various murals and canvases were propped up against the cement walls… all done by the local kids. Amazing.

We finished up our visit in Rau with a quick stroll through the market – which was, incidentally, chaotic, but nothing like the market in Marangu. I wish I could have taken pictures of this place... if you do, everyone there starts demanding you pay them money, so I decided just to live in the moment. Picture the biggest and busiest farmers market in the States... and no multiple that craziness by twenty. Every kind of fruit, vegi, fish, chicken, fabric, cheap electronic, rice and grain you could imagine, and all those smells combined. I decided to buy nothing, but watched my fellow volunteers try their luck at "burgaining" (as a local told us to do) while being ushered into and under tents of all kinds to "just brush their eyes" (or "browse," haha). While the beautiful kanga fabric seems to be all of our weaknesses (the Mamas here can take any piece of it and design and create any skirt or tunic or whatever you want in a matter of days), I've decided I cannot justify buying it unless it's being sold by a local women's group (where I know part of the profits are going towards their program/food/education). These women are often the sweetest people I've ever met, and I'd gladly support them if I'm going to splurge and buy anything.

Anyway, in addition to the market, we also visited a giant baobab tree and a local blacksmith who showed us how he uses traditional methods (rare in this area) to make Maasai spears and tools and other metal and wood carvings. After that, we spent the rest of the afternoon learning all about the Chagga tribe. Marangu is quintessential rural Africa on the bottom of Mt. Kilimanjaro. It's a great place for hiking and bird-watching, but in particular, it's excellent for checking out traditional Chagga homes (which look like giant thatch bee-hives, half of the inside reserved for a cow or two, the other half for the family and cooking fire) and climbing down into ancient Chagga caves, which were used by the Chagga to live in and hide out from slave traders and the Maasai during the war between the two. I did both (check them out, that is... not live and hide in the cave). The caving, in particular, was fascinating and challenging, as the tunnels are often so small you have to crawl through them, but I would recommend the experience to anyone who has the chance to check it out. It's pretty unbelievable.


(Traditional Chagga homes)

Things that I've done...

but haven't yet been able to blog about (and this is only the beginning):

1. Washed and ironed my first load of clothing outside this past weekend (as I didn't have a single t-shirt left that didn't smell a bit like safari). What an incredible work out! Yikes... and no bug troubles yet!

2. Read my first Tanzanian newspaper, front-to-back, and felt more in the know and less like a mzungu than ever.

3. Tried -- and hated -- the local banana beer and wine. Some of the other African beers (entitled "Safari," "Serengeti," and "Tusker," for example) are not terrible, but... I think I'll be saving any alcohol purchases/splurges for when I'm in South Africa and surrounded by vinyards. I'm having a hard time justifying buying anything like that right now, anyway... with so many people around me struggling to buy food and/ pay basic bills and school fees. It just doesn't feel cool.

4. Visited another local nursery school not far from mine that a fellow volunteer works at... although no longer, as his kids have "graduated" and will be attending primary school in January. He had at least twice as many kids under his watch (although he had extra help), and it was break time when I arrived, so they all bum-rushed me with hugs, high-fives, and "teach-uh! teach-uh!" upon my turning the corner... so it was kind of awesome. Nothing quite like being a celebrity among children to get a little confidence and morale boost.

5. Went out to dinner (on CCS) with the other volunteers to a local restaurant where a bunch of traditional African drummers and dancers came out to entertain us as well as teach us how to "shakey shakey." This was INCREDIBLE. It was like Cirque de Soleil meets dinner theatre meets African dance club. Did I say doing my laundry here was a good workout? Try "shakey shakey." Master it and you'll feel fearless.

6. Brought in a handful of excellent children's books to my kids at Step Up (that I had brought from home, thank goodness!) so that I could read to them and they could finally get their cute, eager little hands on some... and holy smokes, guys... they loved them. They're so smart and so deserving... I wish I could give them an entire library.

Step Up, Amka Branch!

Mama Naseem (second from left), Teacher Olivari (far right), an some Step Up students in front of the school gate! The two in the middle, Ansila and Hussein, are in my class.

Living in The Lion King

Last weekend, I had the extraordinary opportunity to go on safari for four days with the other CCS volunteers. I cannot even begin to adequately describe the views, the sounds, and the general experience of seeing animals like cheetahs and zebras in their natural habitats... so just be prepared for the following retelling to fall short, times one million.

The first day, after placement (it poured rain that morning, so half the kids didn't show up to school, meaning that I went to the original Step Up and ended up watching The Lion King and Tarzan on at tiny TV screen with the children so they could "practice hearing and understanding English;" I've never seen kids more excited about hearing the song "Hakuna Matata!" haha), we hopped in three safari trucks and began to head east towards Arusha and the Ngorongoro Crater. Along the way, we passed the Great Rift Valley, a score of baboons loitering in the road, and Mt. Kili, towering in our rear-view mirrors. No big deal, or anything. It was okay, I guess.**

No sooner had we arrived at the edge of the Crater at dusk to set up camp (literally a dozen or so tents and a bonfire on the edge of a giant bowl of beautiful) when an ELEPHANT casually walked through our campsite. Whatever, no big deal.** (It was AWESOME.) It then took a swig from our water tank and then moved on, no doubt annoyed by our camera flashes.

After our first of several campfires under a humongous starry sky, our only other guests that night (that we were awake for) were a pack of hyenas sniffing our tents and chatting away to each other at about 3AM. Rude.

The next morning we rose at dawn to see the sunrise over the Crater. The pictures I took BARELY do this justice. Many have said that the Ngorongoro Crater is the 8th Wonder of the World; I would have to agree. I mean, here's a pic of our campsite:



Yeah... That's a legit rainbow. After some hot tea and oatmeal (it gets rather chilly at night at the Crater), we hopped back into our safari trucks and began heading further east towards the Serengeti. Along the way, we stopped at the Olduvai Gorge to have a "squatty potty break" (if you catch my drift) and explore/learn a little bit about -- oh, you know -- where mankind is said to have originated. Again, whatever, no big deal.** Just some bones older than ANYTHING.

Next, we paid a visit to an actual Maasai village, wherein I got to take part in a traditional dance with the Maasai women and then go inside one of the red-cloaked warrior's mud-thatch houses -- no joke. I could write a separate blog all about the Maasai and never run out of interesting information to share, honestly. Even more amazing was that one of the Maasai men at this particular village had taken it upon himself to try and build a kindergarten just outside the village circle (since he himself had the chance to leave and get an education and felt his people's children deserved the same opportunity) and we got to go inside and see it! Nothing more than stick walls, one blackboard, and 4 rows of tiny children chanting the ABCs, but it was incredibly interesting and a worthy endeavor.

Several hours of driving in the hot African sun later, and we arrived at the Serengeti National Park. Please, just go watch The Lion King again and pay particular attention to the opening scenes... and anything to do with Pride Rock. That's basically what we saw for the next 24 hours. Zebra and wildebeest herds migrating across the dry grassy savanna, leopards laying lazily in the sun, hippos barely moving in their watery homes, and elephants and giraffes slowly moving their way through the acacia trees, nibbling their lives away. I barely sat down the entire time, opting instead to stand on my seat and stick my head out of the top of the truck like a crazed ostrich (oh yeah, we saw those, too), braving the intense dust and wind-whipping that ensued.

The night we camped in the Serengeti wasn't too different from our first night on the Crater rim, other than for approximately one hour, I was never more petrified in my life (nearly, anyway). My tent-mate and I woke up sometime around 2AM to the sound of "somethings" ravaging our dinner trash outside (most likely hyenas or warthogs)... as well as animal calls answering each other across the grassy field our tents were plopped in.

Then came the roaring and growling of lions. (Seriously. No **.) We proceeded to lay there, not moving and barely breathing, staring at each others outline in the darkness and realizing there was nothing but a piece of canvas between ourselves and X number of lions... and, oh yeah... we're on THEIR turf, not the other way around. I mean, it's not like I'm at Six Flags Great America, nervously boarding a new roller coaster, soothing my fears with the knowledge that "they wouldn't let anyone ride it if it wasn't safe." Laying there, I started thinking (irrationally) 'hakuna matata, we're totally fine,' because we wouldn't be there if it wasn't safe... only to suddenly remember that we weren't in the States, this patch of grass in the Serengeti wasn't Six Flags, and this probably wasn't entirely safe. Yikes. Knowing that there was absolutely nothing either of us could do about it, and being too scared to move, I decided to repeat the same E.E. Cummings poem in my head over and over and over again to drown out the terror and make myself fall asleep again. Well... it worked, and the lions must have thought someone smelled too harshly of Deet, or something, to bother knocking our tents down and eating us. So mission accomplished, and we lived to see another day.

As scary as it was... I wouldn't relive that hour any other way... and that's probably the least safe I'll ever be here in Africa (knock on wood, God-willing).

And what a glorious day it was, too, so thank goodness. On Sunday, we spent nearly the whole day in the Serengeti, taking in more zebras and gazelles and -- most extraordinarily -- a pride of lions brilliantly stalking and then chasing down a herd of wildebeests for a kill! Several of the lionesses and one or two males walked right along our truck, blending in superbly with the white/yellow dust of the grass and tire path! I've never been happier to be so close to a cat (from comfortably perched atop a truck, instead of cowering in a tent, of course). Truly an amazing sight.

After several more hours of driving under the sun (with one quick pit-stop at a Serengeti education center), we began driving back to the Ngorongoro Crater, where we would camp one more night, celebrate two volunteers' birthdays (how about turning 25 while on safari -- what a memory!), and rise early, again, to actually drive down into the Crater at dawn. To sum this particular experience up, I'd have to say I'll probably never see a prettier side of the world, ever. It literally looked like heaven on Earth, and my eyes began to sting because I didn't want to blink and miss one second. Then just about everyone in our truck fell asleep, because they were so freaking tired.

While driving around inside the Crater, before stopping next to a water-hole home of some hippos for picnic lunch, we had the pleasure of seeing two rhinos in the distance (now EXTREMELY rare, even there, in the heart of Africa... sorry Tim H), a cheetah, several elephants, and a ton of gorgeous flamingos, among various other usual suspects that we were suddenly desensitized to (zeebs, gazelles, and hyenas, to name a few). Kind of cool, maybe.**

It doesn't get much more eventful than that, folks. After 4 days on safari, bunk beds, cold showers, and toilets any more intricate than a hole in the ground all seemed luxurious, so upon arriving back at Home-Base, there were happy campers (no pun intended, sort of) all around. The dinners at the campsites were so delicious, however (zucchini soup, fresh cut fruit, spaghetti with vegi-"meat"-balls, for instance), and the memories so unreal, I wouldn't exactly say we all went hungry or were totally unhappy.

And then Simba and Nala watched Rafiki hoist their new lion cub up into the air, and all the animals cheered. The End.**

**Warning: A little sarcasm for good measure, everybody.

Being "Teach-uh" in East Africa

(OR: Working at Step Up: Amka Branch, Part 1)

So the original Step Up Nursery School, the one founded in 1995 by Mama Naseem, looks sort of like a hole in the wall between two buildings on a dirt road... the doorway appearing somewhat like an entrance to a dark, metallic cave. Upon entering, however, it's more like a colorful, boxy maze. Each wall of the hodgepodge collection of adjoining rooms is covered in brightly painted murals and posters, displaying the ABCs, different shapes, diagrams of body parts, and other various images ripped from magazines. Each are varying levels of educational, and many are hand-painted or drawn. There's even a Risk gameboard framed on one of the walls. Nearby, a giant bulletin board filled with pictures of past volunteers smiles down at anyone who enters.

In each room, 2-4 long cement or shiny wooden desks and benches cover the floor, facing blackboards filled with subtraction problems and English vocabulary words. It makes for a cheery -- though chaotic and somewhat cramped --learning space in Africa. Mama Naseem both works and lives on the premises, and a handful of other teachers and the occasional volunteer both male and female teach in the other rooms (and hallways), making use of every inch they have.

Beautiful tiny children jovially pop in and out of the spooky cave front door every morning -- wearing, it seems, the same outfit or two every single day, often looking wildly over-dressed for the African heat-- to greet our approaching volunteer van with smiles, waves, and cheers of "Teacher! Teacher!" (which sounds more like "Teach-uh! Teach-uh!"). All-in-all, a truly simultaneous heart-melt and heart-break vision to start every day.

This is not where I work, though, really.

I've been placed at the new Step Up Nursery School, Amka, the first extension of the original which opened only in January of this year. It is located in a similarly poor neighborhood, only about 15 minutes away. At first glance, the differences between the two schools, however, appear to be many, and I'll be honest, I fell for them hard the first week and a half. The gateway out front is painted pink, but other than that, there is ZERO color, for instance. There are no posters, no murals, and no gameboards, as far as I can tell. There is a beautiful little yard, and a brand-new gray-cement building. The older kids who come to get extra help before secondary school are taught in the one classroom inside. The nursery school kids? Oh yeah, they learn on the front porch.

By "learn on the front porch," I mean there are two long wooden benches and desks placed in front of one large blackboard that leans against the cement wall. That's it. No rugs, no crayons, NO BOOKS. Not one. Welcome to preschool! How fun!

I have to tell you, it's pretty disheartening. Or at least that's how I felt until halfway through this week. I've been in many preschools in my day, and this one's looking pretty sad. Brand new, which is awesome... but totally lacking. While none of this has changed since my arrival... I've decided to buck up and look at it as a sort of... challenge.

Now, I don't have much money, and the CCS "donation policy" is pretty strict about what you can give to your work placement (because if we, the volunteers from the West, just throw money and resources at them every time we show up, they'll begin to depend on it, and the program will no longer be sustainable on its own), so I'm not planning on emptying out my bank account to buy this place toys, markers, and a colorful paint job. But what can I do?

The nursery school kids who reside on the porch are officially ALL MINE. Seriously, I am now their teacher, as the school itself only has one and he's pretty preoccupied with the older students inside learning algebra. These kids come from poverty stricken homes covered in dust. Many of them have grown up witnessing that the best and quickest way to solve a problem is by hitting someone. Some of them only eat one meal a day, and it's the cup of porridge I serve them at 11am.

So, this is a summary of my emotional and mental progression since I arrived:

Day 1: Holy smokes, this is devastatingly sad, daunting, and unreal. What am I doing?
Day 2: I am selfish, spoiled, and ill-equipped. Also, why did I think I could control a room (i.e., porch) full of preschoolers, let alone teach them anything, in a foreign language? And with no resources? Ha.
Day 3: How do I get them to stop beating on each other? And where did they get all these razor blades? Wait, are they actually using them to sharpen their pencil nubs?
Day 4: Maybe if I continue to learn some key Swahili phrases like, "Please sit," "Write this down," and "Stop hitting him," I won't flounder so much. Maybe I can actually teach them a song, too... they are preschoolers, after all... And maybe if I bring in some books, I can give them something really special...

During the first few days, I fell into a huge hole of guilt, responsibility, and unrealistic expectations for myself. And let me tell you, it's a slippery slope. Then, finally, after an epic weekend on safari, camping under the stars, I started reworking my inner-questions and personal expectations. Sarah, why did you come to Africa? What can you actually accomplish here? What is the most important thing you can give to these kids?

I, Miss Yale, can instill in them a love for learning. I can help them believe that school is a safe and happy haven. I can make them feel proud of the work they've accomplished. And I can share with them my passion for reading. And that is exactly what I intend to do.

Education in Africa, Tanzania-Style

I cannot believe I've been volunteering at the nursery school for nearly two weeks now. This is probably because it's been a complete and utter whirlwind of change, in every sense of the word. Each day I am there, the schedule changes, my "responsibilities" change, and the number, abilities, moods, and 'tudes of my children change.

Thus, every morning I arrive at Step Up Nursery School, Amka Extension, with varying amounts of confidence, energy, and knowledge/expertise. This is confusing... and a little bit frustrating... but mostly just exhausting. Let me attempt to explain by backing up a few steps and summarizing what I've come to gather and understand about education in Tanzania.

Historically, the "education system" in TZ began like many other places -- informally, wherein each person learned the history, ways, and rules from the other people in his/her immediate community/tribe, with absolutely no influence or information from the outside world. Eventually, of course, as we all know, the world came boldly marching into Africa (namely the Germans and Brits, in Tanzania), demanding and enforcing change. Education evolved from informal learning to special skills training, with children inheriting the specific trades of their parents/families. While the colonizing Europeans began to draw much wealth from the region, little investment was made in the quality of life of the local Africans. Enter my friends Protest and Liberation.

Tanzania, then called Tanganyika, gained independence from British rule on December 9th, 1961, under the leadership of a guy named Julius Nyere, who was -- what else?! -- a charismatic and optimistic young school teacher. From that moment on, Nyere -- revered and respected around the world for putting the welfare of his people above all else -- committed his government to investing in education. In particular, they strived to provide free universal primary education for every child in Tanzania. A noble and worthy goal, no? Unfortunately, this dream still hasn't yet been realized.

Children here have, however -- no matter which of the over 200 ethnic groups they may be members of -- been taught to identify themselves as proud Tanzanians with a shared language: Swahili. Furthermore, by the late 1980s, the country's literacy rate was one of the highest in Africa, all thanks to Mwalimu (as Nyere is still known), which means "teacher" in Swahili.

Since then, however, much of the momentum has been lost, as about only 20% of the 85% of the child population enrolled in primary school actually end up finishing it, and barely 5% complete secondary school.

There are, of course, many reasons for this downward trend, and I bet you could guess some of them (sincerely, you're pretty intelligent) -- insufficient government funding, trained teachers, schools and general resources, being some of them. Corruption, expensive school fees, and language barriers being others.

The original Step Up Nursery School (founded by Mama Naseem in 1995), operates under the belief that children should be in school as early as possible, as education paves the way for equality, stability, and perhaps even prosperity for the individual as well as the community. The Nursery School aims to prepare kiddos for primary school, so everything from the ABCs to the 1-2-3s is covered.

In particular, Step Up also strives to include as much English instruction into the school day as possible. This is different and important, some argue, because while all Tanzanian primary schools are taught in Swahili, ALL secondary schools are taught in English. Imagine starting high school in the States and finding out you'd have to take every class completely in Swahili -- AWESOME, right? No problem. A+. Therefore, as you may have guessed, many if not most students enter secondary school without a sufficient understanding of the new language, thus catalyzing, in part, the humongous drop-out rate here in TZ. With an early introduction of English, Step Up hopes to prepare its students for learning in both languages -- national and international. Cool, right? Poa.

Even with this potential leg up, Step Up still operates like many other schools here -- with limited supplies, limited space, and limited teacher man-power. Enter Me.

To be continued in the NEXT POST. Hooray! Do you feel saturated with information? I'm sorry. Pole sana.

Questions I was asked before I left:

1. Will you chop off all of your hair before you go? And could you dye it brown? How about both?

Answer: No. Way. I actually don't hate my hair. Also, I think I'd still be recognized as a foreigner, even if I did. (The Africans are pretty adept at spotting the "mzungu" [white people], believe it or not.) Unless, of course, I also managed to become fluent in the local language. And also change my skin color.

The only real difficulty I've had thus far related to standing out as a mzungu is that I (the other volunteers and I) get harassed on the street a lot. People either want a donation, see an easy target for pick-pocketing, or would just LOVE to show you their goods... or take you "wherever you need to go"... for a small fee. And they will follow you down the street for miles just in case you might break down and buy that crappy bracelet. So far I've bought nothing and lost nothing on the streets of Moshi. I have learned to "walk with purpose" and say, repeatedly, "hapana, asante!"

2. Why on earth are you going to Africa?

Answer: Holy smokes, why not? The culture, the people, and the scenery -- all different and all beautiful, and that's an understatement. Plus, for a person who wants nothing more than a volunteer opportunity and a chance to be truly useful (where your knowledge, your skills, your resources, and your influence are all valued in spades) there's no shortage of projects or people to assist in Africa. Let's be real. Also, have I mentioned the fresh coffee? How about the elephants? It looks like I'm actually going on an EPIC safari this weekend with my fellow CCS-ers, staring tomorrow after work and ending on Monday (including the Serengeti, the Crater, and a Maasai village visit). Why NOT Africa?

3. What about laundry?

Answer: Now that's an interesting question. I found out this week during our tour of the Home-Base (where I live with the other volunteers) that I'll be washing my [filthy, dust and sweat-encrusted] laundry in a bucket outside in the yard... then hanging it out in the African sun and air to dry. For three months. (Until I go to South Africa.) Others, I'm told (many, many others), send their laundry out for a Mama to do it for them. Being that I am on a pretty tight budget, however... a very, very tight budget... and I kind of came to Africa with the intention of living simply and respecting the culture by living fairly minimalist-style... it looks like I'll be the girl getting familiar with the wash bucket out back.

The truly interesting part of this endeavor is that it is "highly recommended" that we iron every single piece of clothing afterward -- not to make a good impression or to be sensitive to the conservative culture and our "professional positions" in schools and hospitals, but to kill off all the tiny bugs that may have taken up residence in our shirts and undies, etc.

More later, of course. Feel free to send me any more questions via Comments or my email (sarah.atwood.yale@gmail.com)!

Greetings from Moshi, Tanzania!

Earlier today, I flew into Tanzania in the tiniest plane I've ever been in. Mt. Meru towered beautifully to my right, while Mt. Kilimanjaro dwarfed everything else on my left, both rising out of a thick blanket of clouds. That's when it hit me. I'm in Africa.

Actually, that's a lie. It really hit me at 4 AM when I was already several hours into my overnight layover in Kenya... exhausted, stiff, and seriously red-eyed, with my bags hanging off of me like I was the saddest, blondest pack horse. People were falling asleep on benches and (more often than not) the floor all around me, and I was staring at my boarding pass from Nairobi to Kilimanjaro, wondering if 7 AM would ever arrive, when all of a sudden... I realized where I was. Africa.

It's nothing but beautiful so far, blog-followers. Beautiful food, beautiful people, beautiful scenery. This evening, after spending the day unpacking, meeting people, and adventuring around town a bit, some local friends from Moshi who run a safari/hike/tour guide business invited us over for a dinner and drinks, so that was fun. Watching the stars fly by above us as we drove home was truly unreal.

Tomorrow the other new volunteers and I begin a full day of orientation. I'm told the next three weeks are insanely full, with our work placements, guest speakers from the community, cultural excursions and language lessons. I'm incredibly excited to dive in... although I know this means I'll have limited internet time (Heads Up! I'm sorry if it takes me a while to get back to you this week!)

I'll be thinking of all of you during ever bit of it, you can count on that. There's not enough time in the day or room in my blog to describe every detail, but I desperately wish that I could. Every one of you deserves to experience it.

Til later, most sincerely,
Sarah

I'm on my way!

Friends, family, and other followers! The day has come and gone... I am officially on my way to Africa -- in London, specifically, at the moment. International travel and I are actually getting along pretty well right now... and by "getting along pretty well," I mean "we're pretty much best friends." Everything has been on time, moved quickly, and been relatively painless (considering I have no phone, laptop, or even a crappy watch).

Example A, I am currently using the internet for free. Some girl I was sitting next to freely offered up her remaining minutes on the computer she was using. AWESOME.

Example B, since I (until just now) have no form of communicating with home that I am alive and well, I decided to send some postcards to the fam. Upon walking into a chocolate shop (which always seems like the safest place in the world to me) in the international terminal to ask where I could buy some stamps, the guy behind the counter promptly coughed up THREE FREE STAMPS and then gave me detailed directions to the nearest mailbox. AMAZING.

I like the world and the world likes me!
Today. For now. I probably just jinxed it.

Off to Nairobi, then on to Tanzania!

Love from a London layover,
Sarah