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