It was the big day of the show. Our kwaya was singing at second Mass which started at 9 am, we had to be at our kwaya teachers house by 8:30 to practice. We all arrived wearing our awesome new uniforms, lavender "satin" skirts and blouses with a sweatheart neckline, a white sash around our waists with a white "rose" and tails hanging down. The skirt has a slit up the side with a white underlay. The woman all braided their hair with rasta and the men wore their new cream colors suits with their lavender skirts. We looked "smart sana" - very smart. There are five choirs at our parish, three at the main church and two at the outstation church, but we all joined together to sing at second Mass.
After second Mass we all gathered in our own choir groups and quicky practiced one last song before the competition was to begin. A little background info - we have been practicing songs for weeks and weeks. Neither Caroline nor I knew what we were practicing these songs for, Christmas maybe? Advent? Feast of Christ the King? We were told that we needed to get our uniforms by the 28th because we were wearing them on the last Sunday in November.
We suddenly realize how serious everyone is taking this event as we separate into our kwayas and sit down, however we still have no idea what is going on. Eventually they announce a line up. Kwaya ya Inyasi Loyola (St Ignatius Choir) will be singing fourth. Oh goodness, this is a competition. They announce that all choirs will sing four songs, an entrance song, one common song (Kwa Nino Leo Mnaimba Kwa Furaha), one traditional song, and then one more African traditional song. We will be judged (by the priests) and then there will be an award. My palms start to get sweaty and my heart starts racing. The first choir goes and sings well, the second one goes and the third one follows. Its time for Inyasi. They call us up and we get into our lines to dance in. Good thing Caroline and I were on the ends of the soprano and alto voices because otherwise I don't think anyone would have seen us (insert extreme sarcasm here). We danced in to an amazing song called "Mvua Inarutubisha Vitu Vyote" (The rain falls down on everything). Next was the song everybody was singing "Kwa Nini Leo Mnaimba Kwa Furaha" (For today you sing with happiness), followed by "Hosana" by Handel, and ended with "Ni Mwanadamu" (I am a person". This last song was accompanied by wanakwaya (choir members) using a kinu (a grinder tool) to make a beat and a stool being swiveled on top of a pot, while the rest of us did a traditional dance from the Fipa tribe. We were in a U shape, and as I mentioned before Caroline and I were the book ends, right in front so everybody could see the wazungu dancing the traditional african dance. I was so relieved when it was over, however Im not going to lie, my instinctual performance mode was in full gear as I was singing in front of a packed church.
We sat down and listened to the last choir sing. Everyone did very well, and they asked each choir to stand up and sing one more song. We awaited the results with anticipation. They started by announcing the last place kwaya, then fourth, the third, and then second. We were none of those. We received 230 points out of 300 points, the highest of all the choirs!!! We were the winners!!! ..or so we thought....They told us to stand up and be recognized because we performed the best out of all the choirs, HOWEVER, our teachers made a mistake and broke one of the rules. We were only allowed to have one conductor and our teachers switched halfway through. So we were deducted ten points leaving us in third place. Turns out that the first and second places get prizes, we ended up getting nothing but "pole sana" (very sorry) from everyone watching. As we walked home, literally everyone we walked by asked us how we did in the Siku ya Tamasha (the dar of the show). We said "tulishindwa" (we were overcome), but we explained what happened. Really we know we were the true winners, and we still pride ourselves on our stellar performance. There is always next year...
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Kwaya
Caroline and I recently joined one of the choirs at our Church. Our choir, or kwaya, is called the Ignatius Loyola Kwaya and we practice every Monday, Tuesday, and Saturdays and then sing at one of the two Masses on Sundays. We have quickly become a part of the Ignatius kwaya family, and are now expected to attend all of the events and trips thats the kwaya goes on. For example, after signing on Sundays, we go and visit the sick. Each week we visit a different person, but each week no matter how long Mass is, the visit centers me and helps me reflect on my time here. My first visit we went to a member of the kwaya who was sick. We stood outside her house and sang songs for a little while, then we went to another house and did the same thing. It really is a very simple act, however the visible joy that it brings the people we visit makes the entire day worthwhile.
Two sundays ago was Confirmation. The week before all three kwayas from the Church practiced together and prepared for the Auxilary Bishop to come. Practices were long and confusing as all of the songs are in Kiswahili and they were all new to me. As I struggled to learn the songs, I also struggled to obtain the proper uniform we were all required to wear (white long sleeve shirt and a black shirt). A friend helped me out and surprised me with what I needed. It was not quite the same with the songs. It was Iganitius kwaya's turn to sing at Misa ya Kwanza (First Mass at 7 am), so we all were there for the two hour long Mass, dancing and singing. Then we had a short break and lined up for Misa ya Pili (second Mass at 9 am). The candidates lined up dressed in their red and white robes, hair all done up in wigs and silk flowers, high heels, makeup, the works. By this time the sun was beating down on us and there was no shade to be found. We started singing a song I had never heard before and this started to trend of the day (dance and move my lips like I am singing). I should also include that I had a cold the entire week before and was unable to hear very well because of congestion, so even attemtping to sing would have been painful for the people around me. After about a half hour of dancing and singing in our line behind the candidates, we processed into the Church and sat behind the candidates.
Well, let me tell you, this Mass was ther longest, the most lively, and the most celebratory Mass I believe I have ever been to. We did not leave the Church until 1:30 in the afternoon, the Mass lasted 4 1/2 hours. The length of the Mass is just a side note compared to the details of the Mass. The candidates has pratices dances to some of the songs and so at different times they would stand up and perform a choreographed dance, all 300 of them. The kwaya was definitely put to shame. We continued our dancing and singing, but were definitely overpowered by the excited kids. The Bishop met with each of the kids and their sponsors, blessed them, and then at the end of the Mass took pictures with all of them. They danced up the aisle during the offeratory (they usually do this but this time it was extra extravagant and beautiful), in the procession they had a child sitting on the shoulders of a man holding the lectionary high in the air, they presented gifts of bananas, water, bread, the collection (or sadaka), and many other things. Even though we were all fading towards the end, we were all rejuvenated by the excitement and celebration of the day.
The next day I had to attend a Misa ya Rehemu, or Mass of Mercy, for a man who had died the day before. I have never been to one of these here but the kwaya was singing at it so I had to go. I snuck in the back as i was coming from school and they motioned for me to come sit up in the front with them. I arrived just in time to view the body. The coffin was so small and narrow almost seemingly for a child, yet it was an old man who had passed away. Coffins are sold on the side of the road here, literally right next to beds and armoirs. They have bows wrapped around them. Life here is fragile. At the Mass there were women wailing, people comforting, mourning, and trying to accept. It was difficult to watch and experience, especially since the day before, right in the exact same spot, many children received the gifts of the Holy Spirit through Confirmation. It was a very joyous occasion and now 24 hours later we are mourning. The people need the Church. I need the Church. I have found a warm and welcoming family there, especially with the kwaya. I see Mshauri on the street and greet him, Thedei waved at us while we were on the dala yesterday, I work with another member, David, Mama Pascalina waves hello every day when I pass her house on the way to school as does Agnes. My kwaya is my family.
Two sundays ago was Confirmation. The week before all three kwayas from the Church practiced together and prepared for the Auxilary Bishop to come. Practices were long and confusing as all of the songs are in Kiswahili and they were all new to me. As I struggled to learn the songs, I also struggled to obtain the proper uniform we were all required to wear (white long sleeve shirt and a black shirt). A friend helped me out and surprised me with what I needed. It was not quite the same with the songs. It was Iganitius kwaya's turn to sing at Misa ya Kwanza (First Mass at 7 am), so we all were there for the two hour long Mass, dancing and singing. Then we had a short break and lined up for Misa ya Pili (second Mass at 9 am). The candidates lined up dressed in their red and white robes, hair all done up in wigs and silk flowers, high heels, makeup, the works. By this time the sun was beating down on us and there was no shade to be found. We started singing a song I had never heard before and this started to trend of the day (dance and move my lips like I am singing). I should also include that I had a cold the entire week before and was unable to hear very well because of congestion, so even attemtping to sing would have been painful for the people around me. After about a half hour of dancing and singing in our line behind the candidates, we processed into the Church and sat behind the candidates.
Well, let me tell you, this Mass was ther longest, the most lively, and the most celebratory Mass I believe I have ever been to. We did not leave the Church until 1:30 in the afternoon, the Mass lasted 4 1/2 hours. The length of the Mass is just a side note compared to the details of the Mass. The candidates has pratices dances to some of the songs and so at different times they would stand up and perform a choreographed dance, all 300 of them. The kwaya was definitely put to shame. We continued our dancing and singing, but were definitely overpowered by the excited kids. The Bishop met with each of the kids and their sponsors, blessed them, and then at the end of the Mass took pictures with all of them. They danced up the aisle during the offeratory (they usually do this but this time it was extra extravagant and beautiful), in the procession they had a child sitting on the shoulders of a man holding the lectionary high in the air, they presented gifts of bananas, water, bread, the collection (or sadaka), and many other things. Even though we were all fading towards the end, we were all rejuvenated by the excitement and celebration of the day.
The next day I had to attend a Misa ya Rehemu, or Mass of Mercy, for a man who had died the day before. I have never been to one of these here but the kwaya was singing at it so I had to go. I snuck in the back as i was coming from school and they motioned for me to come sit up in the front with them. I arrived just in time to view the body. The coffin was so small and narrow almost seemingly for a child, yet it was an old man who had passed away. Coffins are sold on the side of the road here, literally right next to beds and armoirs. They have bows wrapped around them. Life here is fragile. At the Mass there were women wailing, people comforting, mourning, and trying to accept. It was difficult to watch and experience, especially since the day before, right in the exact same spot, many children received the gifts of the Holy Spirit through Confirmation. It was a very joyous occasion and now 24 hours later we are mourning. The people need the Church. I need the Church. I have found a warm and welcoming family there, especially with the kwaya. I see Mshauri on the street and greet him, Thedei waved at us while we were on the dala yesterday, I work with another member, David, Mama Pascalina waves hello every day when I pass her house on the way to school as does Agnes. My kwaya is my family.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
I Love Clean Sheet Day
The feeling of crawling into bed after you put on clean sheets is almost unbeatable I'd argue. The tightness over the mattress, the coolness of the sheets, aaahhhhhhh. I have always enjoyed this (as I believe many people do), clean sheet day here in Tanzania has taken on a new meaning. After waking up early on a Saturday morning and spending two hours doing laundry, having clean clothes and clean sheets is quite an accomplishment. While I still walk away with battle wounds (raw knuckles and dry hands), knowing that I washed all of my clothes in buckets by hand leaves me with a feeling of pride. I washed my sheets yesterday morning and let them hang out in thet hot sun to dry. I went to check on them later and saw that only one of my two sets made it through the entire process unscathed, a bird pooped on one of my sheets so those had to be rewashed. Washing sheets and clothes used to be as simple as pouring some soap into a machine and turning some knobs. I now walk away sunburned and sore.
Things in my life here may not be as easy, fast or simple as they once were, but once they are finished I feel as if I have completed a great task. Sometimes when it is my turn to cook dinner I think about how nice it would be to open a box of rice and pour it into the water and wait a few minutes and then its done! Or rinsing vegetables under the tap water and then being able to eat them. Here, a simple meal of rice and veggies can take over an hour to prepare. Sorting the rice to take out the rocks, straw, dirt and bugs is a tedious job, having to heat the vegetables is also somewhat tedious, however the alternative of typhoid forces us to continue to do this. Beans have to be cleaned and soaked, no opening a ajr of beans and heating them up on the stove for us, it takes about two hours to cook beans. When we run out of water in our makeshift "running water tank" bucket showers suffice.
Don't get me wrong. This is not a complaining post. I started to think about these things when I realized how much work goes into everything here. The quick way that I was used to donig things at home does not exist here. These are actually the moments when I have the most fun, friends coming to help cook, practicing swahili over sorting rice, having dinner by candlelight when the power goes out. COming back to my original point, coming from a place where I can use a beater to mix ingredients in a cake, pop oatmeal in a microwave and have it be ready in 30 seconds, or high speed internet - having to spend 2-3 hours cooking a simple meal makes me feel like I have accomplished something great but it also makes me very appreciative of the hard work of the Tanzanians here. Everything takes a long time to do. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing, everything. To do all of these things on top of raising a family, finding a job or going to work, living with the realities of life here (which I am slowly seeing more and more of and as I see it life here is not fair), is more difficult than I can imagine.
We went to a friends house for dinner two nights ago. They don't have electricity so as it got dark the room became pitch black. They brought out an oil lamp and we ate dinner by that light. Our friend spent literally all day preparing this meal for us, as it takes a long time to cook over hot coals. This is not an exaggeration, he cooked pilau (spiced rice), meat and vegetables and I have no doubt that when he said he cooked all day, he literally cooked all day. Having someone do this for us shows me how much our friendship means to them. It is a sacrifice to spend all of these hours doing something like preparing a meal for other people. It is a sign of love and the "karibu" hospitality found here. People will go out of their way to make sure you are feeling welcome, and if its a good friend you can bet that they will pour themselves into doing something for you.
As I go to sleep on my new clean sheets, I feel accomplished on my own small tasks of washing my sheets and cooking a meal, how also extremely humbled by these experiences. I get a glimpse into what the hard work must be like for people here, but it is only a glimpse. Our friend who cooked us dinner knows about the sacrifices that have to be made, the time that has to be spent on every day chores. The Mamas who carry their children on their back as they sell chapate and mandazi in the morning know the hard work of every day life, the children washing their clothes in the dirty river know the unfairness and the harshness of life. My small experiences elevate the respect I have for the hard workers here to a new level. I thought I knew what hard work was, but after having seen how some of our friends live here my previous thoughts about hard work have been reshaped. I only get to experience the small accomplishments I mentioned before, however, I don't think I can go to sleep on clean sheets again without being grateful for the blessings God has placed in my life and the priviledge of being and knowing life here in Africa.
Thank you for clean sheet day.
Things in my life here may not be as easy, fast or simple as they once were, but once they are finished I feel as if I have completed a great task. Sometimes when it is my turn to cook dinner I think about how nice it would be to open a box of rice and pour it into the water and wait a few minutes and then its done! Or rinsing vegetables under the tap water and then being able to eat them. Here, a simple meal of rice and veggies can take over an hour to prepare. Sorting the rice to take out the rocks, straw, dirt and bugs is a tedious job, having to heat the vegetables is also somewhat tedious, however the alternative of typhoid forces us to continue to do this. Beans have to be cleaned and soaked, no opening a ajr of beans and heating them up on the stove for us, it takes about two hours to cook beans. When we run out of water in our makeshift "running water tank" bucket showers suffice.
Don't get me wrong. This is not a complaining post. I started to think about these things when I realized how much work goes into everything here. The quick way that I was used to donig things at home does not exist here. These are actually the moments when I have the most fun, friends coming to help cook, practicing swahili over sorting rice, having dinner by candlelight when the power goes out. COming back to my original point, coming from a place where I can use a beater to mix ingredients in a cake, pop oatmeal in a microwave and have it be ready in 30 seconds, or high speed internet - having to spend 2-3 hours cooking a simple meal makes me feel like I have accomplished something great but it also makes me very appreciative of the hard work of the Tanzanians here. Everything takes a long time to do. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing, everything. To do all of these things on top of raising a family, finding a job or going to work, living with the realities of life here (which I am slowly seeing more and more of and as I see it life here is not fair), is more difficult than I can imagine.
We went to a friends house for dinner two nights ago. They don't have electricity so as it got dark the room became pitch black. They brought out an oil lamp and we ate dinner by that light. Our friend spent literally all day preparing this meal for us, as it takes a long time to cook over hot coals. This is not an exaggeration, he cooked pilau (spiced rice), meat and vegetables and I have no doubt that when he said he cooked all day, he literally cooked all day. Having someone do this for us shows me how much our friendship means to them. It is a sacrifice to spend all of these hours doing something like preparing a meal for other people. It is a sign of love and the "karibu" hospitality found here. People will go out of their way to make sure you are feeling welcome, and if its a good friend you can bet that they will pour themselves into doing something for you.
As I go to sleep on my new clean sheets, I feel accomplished on my own small tasks of washing my sheets and cooking a meal, how also extremely humbled by these experiences. I get a glimpse into what the hard work must be like for people here, but it is only a glimpse. Our friend who cooked us dinner knows about the sacrifices that have to be made, the time that has to be spent on every day chores. The Mamas who carry their children on their back as they sell chapate and mandazi in the morning know the hard work of every day life, the children washing their clothes in the dirty river know the unfairness and the harshness of life. My small experiences elevate the respect I have for the hard workers here to a new level. I thought I knew what hard work was, but after having seen how some of our friends live here my previous thoughts about hard work have been reshaped. I only get to experience the small accomplishments I mentioned before, however, I don't think I can go to sleep on clean sheets again without being grateful for the blessings God has placed in my life and the priviledge of being and knowing life here in Africa.
Thank you for clean sheet day.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
It's a Good Thing I Brought my Swiss Army Knife to Africa...
My Swiss Army knife came in handy yesterday during the preparations for my birthday party. My community mates and I planned on having people over in the afternoon for some chakula (food) and piga story (telling stories).
Before this I should share how I woke up. Starting at 3 am, the rooster who lives literally 3 feet from my room began crowing. Not only did this rooster crow, but all of the roosters in Mabibo decided to have a mini convention and crow at different intervals. After trying to sleep until at least 6:30, I opened my door t streamers o magazine cut outs of celebrities hanging from my door. Nicholas, Caroline, and Christen surprised me with these hilarious pictures of random people along with a happy birthday sign on my door and some other notes attached to the wall. This was going to be a good day!
Slowly people started trickling in around 4, which is actually early since we said it is starting at 3. Nicholas, Caroline and our friend Davey went to get the potatoes for the chips we were going to make. Too many hands and not enough knives, this is where the Swiss Army knife comes in. Christen and I whip ours out and what do you know! We have six people sitting on our front porch peeling many kilos of potatoes and slicing them into french fry wedges. As more people come, the cooking goes quicker and soon enough we are frying all of the chips. Whenever we have a party at our house, we usually cook chips and katchumbali (a vegetable mixture) because its relatively easy to make for a lot of people and they all help cook it. So the fire was set up outside over some charcoal on the ground, the potatoes cooked in about an hour and a half and around 8 pm dinner was ready. We all sat in our living room, 14 of us in total I believe, and the MC, Jeflo, began the evening. Tanzanian birthdays, as I mentioned in a previous post, have a cake feeding part. If you remember, this is my absolute favvvooorrite part, NOT. I loathe this part of the parties because it can be extremely awkward depending on if you know the person feeding you, if they are joking around or being serious, and if you know the other people there. But this time because it was my birthday, I got to feed all of my friends. So I cut the cake (Caroline made a chocolate coconut cake - it was delicious!), into tiny pieces and started to make my way around the room feeding each guest a piece on a toothpick. Not awkward for me, but awkward for some of them!!! Then at the end a few people fed me cake, not too bad because I had done it to all them first. So then after the cake feeding comes the actual dinner (nothing like having dessert before dinner!). The mtoto (child), aka the birthday person, goes first so I got my chips and katchumbali and then everybody else followed. After dinner there is a speech making part to the party, so our MC got up and directed the whole thing. He announced that this was the time for saying any words that they wish to me and wishing me luck in the next year. Slowly, one by one everybody got up and said something. Keep in mind that this whole evening is in Swahili, and some of these people I have only met a few times, one of them I only met one evening for a few hours but he came to my party! Phew, that was finished, I received many blessings from my friends and many nice things were said, but again it was in Swahili so I didn't catch all of it. My favorite part of the whole evening was what happened last. We turned up the music and had a legit dance party in our living room...around the coffee table. Listening to Jay Z, Beyonce, P Square, Rihanna, don't forget the Celine Dion and Shania Twain every once in a while, while dancing in your one small section of the room, watching our friends check themselves out in the mirror and realizing that this was actually happening was the absolute best part of my day. Everyone was having such a good time and we were all together. Thats what a birthday should be.
Times like these make me so thankful for the family I have formed here. These people are not just my friends, but they are the ones we celebrate good times with and commiserate over bad times. While I am away from my own family back at home, celebrations like birthdays and holidays, times when we ge together with our friends and family remind me that I am definitely living the life I love.
Before this I should share how I woke up. Starting at 3 am, the rooster who lives literally 3 feet from my room began crowing. Not only did this rooster crow, but all of the roosters in Mabibo decided to have a mini convention and crow at different intervals. After trying to sleep until at least 6:30, I opened my door t streamers o magazine cut outs of celebrities hanging from my door. Nicholas, Caroline, and Christen surprised me with these hilarious pictures of random people along with a happy birthday sign on my door and some other notes attached to the wall. This was going to be a good day!
Slowly people started trickling in around 4, which is actually early since we said it is starting at 3. Nicholas, Caroline and our friend Davey went to get the potatoes for the chips we were going to make. Too many hands and not enough knives, this is where the Swiss Army knife comes in. Christen and I whip ours out and what do you know! We have six people sitting on our front porch peeling many kilos of potatoes and slicing them into french fry wedges. As more people come, the cooking goes quicker and soon enough we are frying all of the chips. Whenever we have a party at our house, we usually cook chips and katchumbali (a vegetable mixture) because its relatively easy to make for a lot of people and they all help cook it. So the fire was set up outside over some charcoal on the ground, the potatoes cooked in about an hour and a half and around 8 pm dinner was ready. We all sat in our living room, 14 of us in total I believe, and the MC, Jeflo, began the evening. Tanzanian birthdays, as I mentioned in a previous post, have a cake feeding part. If you remember, this is my absolute favvvooorrite part, NOT. I loathe this part of the parties because it can be extremely awkward depending on if you know the person feeding you, if they are joking around or being serious, and if you know the other people there. But this time because it was my birthday, I got to feed all of my friends. So I cut the cake (Caroline made a chocolate coconut cake - it was delicious!), into tiny pieces and started to make my way around the room feeding each guest a piece on a toothpick. Not awkward for me, but awkward for some of them!!! Then at the end a few people fed me cake, not too bad because I had done it to all them first. So then after the cake feeding comes the actual dinner (nothing like having dessert before dinner!). The mtoto (child), aka the birthday person, goes first so I got my chips and katchumbali and then everybody else followed. After dinner there is a speech making part to the party, so our MC got up and directed the whole thing. He announced that this was the time for saying any words that they wish to me and wishing me luck in the next year. Slowly, one by one everybody got up and said something. Keep in mind that this whole evening is in Swahili, and some of these people I have only met a few times, one of them I only met one evening for a few hours but he came to my party! Phew, that was finished, I received many blessings from my friends and many nice things were said, but again it was in Swahili so I didn't catch all of it. My favorite part of the whole evening was what happened last. We turned up the music and had a legit dance party in our living room...around the coffee table. Listening to Jay Z, Beyonce, P Square, Rihanna, don't forget the Celine Dion and Shania Twain every once in a while, while dancing in your one small section of the room, watching our friends check themselves out in the mirror and realizing that this was actually happening was the absolute best part of my day. Everyone was having such a good time and we were all together. Thats what a birthday should be.
Times like these make me so thankful for the family I have formed here. These people are not just my friends, but they are the ones we celebrate good times with and commiserate over bad times. While I am away from my own family back at home, celebrations like birthdays and holidays, times when we ge together with our friends and family remind me that I am definitely living the life I love.
Friday, May 8, 2009
National Geographic-esque
You are looking at a National Geographic magazine special on East African Indian culture. There is a fascinating picture full of color, lights, people, costumes, arabic architecture, the starry night sky, the picture is bursting with music and celebration. Jewels on women's sari's are clinging together and making noise, traditional music is being danced to by henna decorated women and excited men and children. Confetti flies through the air, torches light the different corners of the square.
This is how I spent last weekend. I went to a wedding on Zanzibar with some friends from Dar. Before we left we borrowed saris and jewelery and prepared for our long weekend away. On Thursday I left with some of the family and arrived in the early afternoon. As I was getting ready with some of the other women, I asked them if my dress would be ok, they gave me this look and gave my one of their punjabi's to wear (the Indian dress with the pants underneath). Wearin a bright blue and yellow Indian dress all night was the right kick off to this weekend. I received compliments galore as I entered the temple for the beginning prayer. All the women sat on the floor around the bride who was receiving blessings along with the family. After this we all went back to different houses to rest and regroup before the big event of the evening: the henna party. I got to the party before most of the other guests and was able to soak in the surroundings. There were a bagillion tables, a stage with a fainting couch for the couple, some music, and the scenery of the ocean front with the starry sky. People started arriving and the event began. The couple sat on the stage the entire time, henna was passed out and we decorated each others hands with it (mine is still on my hands), there was some dancing, some food, and a lot of socializing. I had met the family before so it was really nice to get to see them again. At birthday parties here there is a part where ther birthday person feeds cake to each guest and the guests do likewise for the birthday person. I don't think it has to go much without saying that this is my absolutely least favorite part of a birthday party. So of course at this henna party there is cake...and the guests so up and feed the couple...and my friend tells me "Hey Emily, lets go up there together." And I reply with "No, thanks." Instead of saying "ok, thats fine" I get dragged up there literally, have to stand on the stage in front of everyone and feed a complete stranger cake while she is feeding me cake, and then we take a picture.
Thursday night ended around 2 am after some dancing, Friday morning I went to the market with some of the women and then went on a little moped ride around stone town and then to pick up my friend Christen who was coming. After resting we got ready for Friday nights event: the dancing party. We donned our saris and headed off to the huge reception hall. The chairs were set up against the walls (almost like an awkward high school dance) and there was a decorative centerpiece in the middle of the floor. Again the stage was decorated for the couple. They walked in with a processon behind them, they lit some candles in the centerpiece and then following a younger couple doing a choreographed dance, they danced together. After this the singles dance started. Everybody circles the room doing certain simple dance moves, at some points there were circles within circles doing differenty dances. It was very neat to watch because the women wore amazingly beautiful and intricate saris and the men wore traditional Indian clothes as well. Everyone looked beautiful! These dances were a lot of fun but only lasted half the night. About halfway through some performances started. They call this "intermission" funny enough. Some younger family members performed for the bride and groom and we all watched. Very entertaining as they were mostly Indian dances. After this the couples dancing began, still circle dancing but you use sticks and hit them with your partners sticks and then with the persons behind you all as you are turning with your partner and walking in a big circle. A little confusing at first but also a lot of fun! Towards the end of the night we gave up with the sticks and just danced all together. Another late night, got home around 2:30 am.
Saturday morning was supposed to begina at 7 am with prayer at the grooms house, but we didnt arrive there until 9 am. However the celebration was still going on, and we sat and watched at the groom received blessings, perfume, and other dressings from the women of the family. Then we all headed over to the temple fore more prayer and blessings, as this was the day of the actual wedding. I was wearing a white and pink sari, perfect for the morning, and felt absolutely beautiful! The other women were all wearing saris, too, and they kept on asking me if I like to wear them (if you have talked to me about this you know the answer is YES!). After the prayers we had lunch at the temple (Indian food is delicious), and then headed back home to rest and get ready for the wedding. Saturday night was the biggest celebration I have ever attended. We dressed in our nicest saris and went to the grooms house around 7 pm. There was a Tanzanian band playing party music, the groom sat nervously in a car holding a decorated coconut as a gift for the bride (she was going to give him the same), and all of the grooms family was dancing outside the house. The procession started with the band, the family followed behind and the car was last. We all danced in the main streets of Zanzibar all the way to the temple in Stone Town. This is when the National Geographic-ness begins. Imagine a few hundred men and women dancing in the streets of a tropical island adorned with old arabic architecture. There were so many colors from the clothes, the music was loud, people were singing and shouting. There were tourists outside taking pictures of us (that felt kind of weird), and people came out of their houses to watch what was going on. We got to Stone Town where the streets are too narrow for cars to fit down so we all squeezed down these alleys still dancing and finally got to an open square where the dancing swelled. This is where to insert the first image I wrote. I was mixed in with all of the family, being pulled in and out of different circles dancing, singing, laughing, having the time of my life. I felt as if I was in a snapshot from a National Geographic article. After about a half hur of this dancing extravaganza, we all went into the temple for the wedding ceremony. The women sat on the floor as usual and the men stood outside, the ceremony was full of ritualistic things which I wish I knew what they meant. After the cermeony, this was now about 11:30 pm, we went home and eventually went to sleep. Sunday morning came and it was time to leave the Zanzibar island wedding weekend. We said goodbye to the family, I will see them again soon I hope, and went on our way back home to Dar.
I think what struck me the most about the weekend was the hospitality of the family. We borrowed saris from them, they took us on the ferry and opened their homes to us for us to sleep in. The first day I met some new cousins and they literally told me "come with us, we are going to be good friends now." And we were. I saw the people I met last time and the greeted me like a good friend, they fed us, they helped us get dressed, they treated us like any other member of the family. This hospitality is something that I don't know if it will ever stop surprising me. I felt as much a part of their family as any of them did, absolutely incredible.
This is how I spent last weekend. I went to a wedding on Zanzibar with some friends from Dar. Before we left we borrowed saris and jewelery and prepared for our long weekend away. On Thursday I left with some of the family and arrived in the early afternoon. As I was getting ready with some of the other women, I asked them if my dress would be ok, they gave me this look and gave my one of their punjabi's to wear (the Indian dress with the pants underneath). Wearin a bright blue and yellow Indian dress all night was the right kick off to this weekend. I received compliments galore as I entered the temple for the beginning prayer. All the women sat on the floor around the bride who was receiving blessings along with the family. After this we all went back to different houses to rest and regroup before the big event of the evening: the henna party. I got to the party before most of the other guests and was able to soak in the surroundings. There were a bagillion tables, a stage with a fainting couch for the couple, some music, and the scenery of the ocean front with the starry sky. People started arriving and the event began. The couple sat on the stage the entire time, henna was passed out and we decorated each others hands with it (mine is still on my hands), there was some dancing, some food, and a lot of socializing. I had met the family before so it was really nice to get to see them again. At birthday parties here there is a part where ther birthday person feeds cake to each guest and the guests do likewise for the birthday person. I don't think it has to go much without saying that this is my absolutely least favorite part of a birthday party. So of course at this henna party there is cake...and the guests so up and feed the couple...and my friend tells me "Hey Emily, lets go up there together." And I reply with "No, thanks." Instead of saying "ok, thats fine" I get dragged up there literally, have to stand on the stage in front of everyone and feed a complete stranger cake while she is feeding me cake, and then we take a picture.
Thursday night ended around 2 am after some dancing, Friday morning I went to the market with some of the women and then went on a little moped ride around stone town and then to pick up my friend Christen who was coming. After resting we got ready for Friday nights event: the dancing party. We donned our saris and headed off to the huge reception hall. The chairs were set up against the walls (almost like an awkward high school dance) and there was a decorative centerpiece in the middle of the floor. Again the stage was decorated for the couple. They walked in with a processon behind them, they lit some candles in the centerpiece and then following a younger couple doing a choreographed dance, they danced together. After this the singles dance started. Everybody circles the room doing certain simple dance moves, at some points there were circles within circles doing differenty dances. It was very neat to watch because the women wore amazingly beautiful and intricate saris and the men wore traditional Indian clothes as well. Everyone looked beautiful! These dances were a lot of fun but only lasted half the night. About halfway through some performances started. They call this "intermission" funny enough. Some younger family members performed for the bride and groom and we all watched. Very entertaining as they were mostly Indian dances. After this the couples dancing began, still circle dancing but you use sticks and hit them with your partners sticks and then with the persons behind you all as you are turning with your partner and walking in a big circle. A little confusing at first but also a lot of fun! Towards the end of the night we gave up with the sticks and just danced all together. Another late night, got home around 2:30 am.
Saturday morning was supposed to begina at 7 am with prayer at the grooms house, but we didnt arrive there until 9 am. However the celebration was still going on, and we sat and watched at the groom received blessings, perfume, and other dressings from the women of the family. Then we all headed over to the temple fore more prayer and blessings, as this was the day of the actual wedding. I was wearing a white and pink sari, perfect for the morning, and felt absolutely beautiful! The other women were all wearing saris, too, and they kept on asking me if I like to wear them (if you have talked to me about this you know the answer is YES!). After the prayers we had lunch at the temple (Indian food is delicious), and then headed back home to rest and get ready for the wedding. Saturday night was the biggest celebration I have ever attended. We dressed in our nicest saris and went to the grooms house around 7 pm. There was a Tanzanian band playing party music, the groom sat nervously in a car holding a decorated coconut as a gift for the bride (she was going to give him the same), and all of the grooms family was dancing outside the house. The procession started with the band, the family followed behind and the car was last. We all danced in the main streets of Zanzibar all the way to the temple in Stone Town. This is when the National Geographic-ness begins. Imagine a few hundred men and women dancing in the streets of a tropical island adorned with old arabic architecture. There were so many colors from the clothes, the music was loud, people were singing and shouting. There were tourists outside taking pictures of us (that felt kind of weird), and people came out of their houses to watch what was going on. We got to Stone Town where the streets are too narrow for cars to fit down so we all squeezed down these alleys still dancing and finally got to an open square where the dancing swelled. This is where to insert the first image I wrote. I was mixed in with all of the family, being pulled in and out of different circles dancing, singing, laughing, having the time of my life. I felt as if I was in a snapshot from a National Geographic article. After about a half hur of this dancing extravaganza, we all went into the temple for the wedding ceremony. The women sat on the floor as usual and the men stood outside, the ceremony was full of ritualistic things which I wish I knew what they meant. After the cermeony, this was now about 11:30 pm, we went home and eventually went to sleep. Sunday morning came and it was time to leave the Zanzibar island wedding weekend. We said goodbye to the family, I will see them again soon I hope, and went on our way back home to Dar.
I think what struck me the most about the weekend was the hospitality of the family. We borrowed saris from them, they took us on the ferry and opened their homes to us for us to sleep in. The first day I met some new cousins and they literally told me "come with us, we are going to be good friends now." And we were. I saw the people I met last time and the greeted me like a good friend, they fed us, they helped us get dressed, they treated us like any other member of the family. This hospitality is something that I don't know if it will ever stop surprising me. I felt as much a part of their family as any of them did, absolutely incredible.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friends and Lessons
This past week Caroline and Christen had midterm break so they went away for a few days, Nicholas' family was here visiting so they were off doing their own thing, and I was going to school, coming home, and then......just being. Or so I thought thats how it would be. Many of our friends knew these things were going on and were surprised when I said I was just going to be at school and then I would be alone the rest of the day. I didn't really think much of it, until the first day I was alone. Nicholas and his family went together somewhere and I had the house to myself. Bang, bang. The gate? Who is it? Nani? No response, ok great, lets see who it is. 4:30 pm, I get home from school about 4:20. First visitor of the evening, a friend who I had only met the night before and wanted to come see the others. Pole, bwana. They weren't here. He left after a while and I went back inside. A little while later, bang, bang. The gate again? Ok, so I get up to see who it is. Ah! One of our very good friends, Mussa, who I saw earlier on my way home from school and he told me he would stop by because he knew I was alone. He was coming to tell me he wasn't able to stop by today because he was so tired from work but he would come by tomorrow. Ok, said goodbye went inside. I started cooking dinner (which by the way after cooking dinner for four people it isv ery weird to cook for only myself) and another bang, bang on the gate. This time it was one of our best friend, Godi, who also knew I was alone and wanted to come keep me company! He was the last visitor for that day, but the next day, Thursday the same thing happened. Only different people came.
Thursday and Friday were filled with my friends coming over and hanging out with me because they all knew I was alone and didn't want me to be lonely. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we just sat there reading magazines and books, but what mattered to them was that they were there with me. I even met some new people these nights, as random people stopped by to greet Nicholas' family (even though they weren't there), and friends brought their friends over.
I realized after thinking about these past few days that even though I have only been here for four months, the people I have met here have quickly become my close friends and even some of them as close as family. It meant a lot to me that they took the time to stop by and spend an hour with me because they didn't want me to be alone. People are busy during the week with work, with school, who really has the time to visit with a friend for a while during the week? It didn't matter to them if they were busy, they showed me how much they cared for me and our friendship to take the time out and come spend a few hours with me for a few nights a week.
As I mentioned in previous emails/blogs, I am constantly amazed at the hospitality and generosity people have shown me here. This follows suit. The friendships I am making here, while they are still in the beginning stages, are going to be strong, lasting relationships. They are always teaching me something new whether they know it or not. They teach me swahili, they teach me the culture, but they also teach me patience, how we should show we care about each other, to give and give and give even if you have nothing, to value those who are close to you.
I am going to steal Caroline's word to describe how I am feeling right now: content. I am sure that this is what I am meant to be doing right now, it feels so right and it means so much to me. The relationships I am forming are very life giving, teaching is challenging yet enlightening, I am learning to be completely open to things and to welcome new experiences. Through all of this I am feeling very content. I am at peace. I know that God is doing something in my heart through these experiences and lessons, and I hope that I am sharing some of that with you all.
Thursday and Friday were filled with my friends coming over and hanging out with me because they all knew I was alone and didn't want me to be lonely. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we just sat there reading magazines and books, but what mattered to them was that they were there with me. I even met some new people these nights, as random people stopped by to greet Nicholas' family (even though they weren't there), and friends brought their friends over.
I realized after thinking about these past few days that even though I have only been here for four months, the people I have met here have quickly become my close friends and even some of them as close as family. It meant a lot to me that they took the time to stop by and spend an hour with me because they didn't want me to be alone. People are busy during the week with work, with school, who really has the time to visit with a friend for a while during the week? It didn't matter to them if they were busy, they showed me how much they cared for me and our friendship to take the time out and come spend a few hours with me for a few nights a week.
As I mentioned in previous emails/blogs, I am constantly amazed at the hospitality and generosity people have shown me here. This follows suit. The friendships I am making here, while they are still in the beginning stages, are going to be strong, lasting relationships. They are always teaching me something new whether they know it or not. They teach me swahili, they teach me the culture, but they also teach me patience, how we should show we care about each other, to give and give and give even if you have nothing, to value those who are close to you.
I am going to steal Caroline's word to describe how I am feeling right now: content. I am sure that this is what I am meant to be doing right now, it feels so right and it means so much to me. The relationships I am forming are very life giving, teaching is challenging yet enlightening, I am learning to be completely open to things and to welcome new experiences. Through all of this I am feeling very content. I am at peace. I know that God is doing something in my heart through these experiences and lessons, and I hope that I am sharing some of that with you all.
Friday, February 13, 2009
"It's an angel!"
So my latest adventure in Tanzania started with the fact that I have not gone to Mass in English in over two months and I was realllyyy itching for something familiar. I woke up extra early on a dreary, rainy Saturday morning to attend Mass at the Jesuits at 7 am. The Mass was wonderful and just what I needed. I understood everything and was really able to participate, the spiritual lift I needed. I had breakfast with them afterwards (I was told I was a good luck charm because it was the first time the cats didn’t bother them during Mass).
My real adventure begins on the way home around 9 am. I was almost home when I hear someone say “Emirrryyyy!” I looked back and saw it was my friend Erasto. We exchanged greetings and then he asked me what I was doing later. Oh goodness, I thought, what is he going to ask me to do. So I say I don’t know but I also don’t know if my community mates have anything planned. As I can see my response is not the one he wished for, he asks me to go to his friends birthday party with him later that day. I said that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to go but he should call me later. He says I really should try to come, he really wants me to come and so does his friend (whom I have never met). Ok, so I bought some time to decide what I was going to do. I hadn’t heard anything all day so I thought I was off the hook. Caroline and Christen came back from Posta around 3:30 and informed me that Erasto called and texted us and said he will be by around 4 pm to pick me up. Yeah so I had a half hour. I realized I had not showered since Thursday night because I got back late on Friday and was going to go for a run later that day, so I grabbed a bucket to get water to take a shower. I walked outside and guess who was standing there! Erasto was at our house a half hour early (Tanzanians never show up on time, they maybe show up an hour or so late so I thought I had some time). Not only was he early, and I had not taken a shower, but earlier in the day I did laundry so all of my sheets, towels, and underwear were hanging outside to dry.
Ok, turn around, grab something to wear and just suck it up and go. I felt my face turning bright red (that has happened a few times here already). I quickly got ready and five minutes later we were out the door. I asked him where we were going today and he responded with “to support.” Uh? “It is my friends birthday, we go to support him.” Ok. Cool. We went to his house so he could change and I met his mother. We sat outside together, she only speaks Swahili and I only speak maybe 10 phrases of Swahili so our conversation did not go very far. We said an awful lot of “karibu” “asante” – “welcome” “thank you.” So if anybody is coming to Tanzania we are very welcome at Erasto’s house.
I met Erasto on my first day here and then on the fifth day here (the next time I saw him) he quizzed me on who he was and when I met him and he also quizzed me on my Swahili. I do not know any of his friends, neither do my community mates. So here I am venturing off in Africa alone with a Tanzanian friend to a place I have never been before to “support” a person I have never met. This is what I was anxious about. Thank goodness before we left Caroline told Erasto to take good care of me. Yeah, thanks. Well he took this very seriously (and I think he enjoyed it). We got to out stop (after he paid all of the dala fares) and he took an even stronger hold of my hand – he had been holding my hand almost the entire way, this is pretty common here though – and he held onto me for dear life as we crossed the road. Then he got on a kick of asking me if I was fearing or worrying. Because he had to take care of me he did not want me to fear or worry, so I had to give all of my fear and worry to him (what was I fearing and worrying about, I still don’t know but it’s ok because he took care of it). We walked and walked and I began to wonder where exactly he was taking me, and then just when I thought things couldn’t get stranger (by this time he had asked me to be his girlfriend), we arrive at the house of the birthday boy before the birthday boy. His mother and sisters were home so we sat inside and waited…and waited…and waited…I took in the room – the blinking Christmas lights, the stuffed animals displayed in the china cabinet next to the TV, the picture of Jesus on the wall. Finally another person came and Erasto leaves me to go outside. So I am sitting in this strangers house along. Soon he came back and we both went outside together where we did some more waiting. Slowly more people come and eventually even the birthday boy comes!!!
Tanzanian birthday parties typically follow a pattern, eat, drink, eat some more, drink some more, feed each other birthday cake, make a speech about the birthday person, talk some more and then go home. So sure enough, we eat samosas, chapate, and other snacks, drank fanta, ate some more and drank some more. Then the birthday cake came out and DC, the birthday boy, cut it into smallish pieces and got ready for the feeding – the most awkward part of any birthday here. I got ready, keep in mind I met this person maybe 2 hours earlier, and it comes to be my turn. So he takes a toothpick and a piece of cake and we get awkwardly close and he feeds me a piece of cake. Meanwhile this whole time there is a dude on the other side of the table taking pictures of me the entire time we are there. Every time I look up he had the came pointed at me and is smiling. Well my cake experience is done for this birthday – phew. We finally do some introductions, I have been sitting at a table of all guys for 2 ours and none of them talked to me and I didn’t talk to any of them. Turns out I am the first “person like me” that they ever met. I was also the only girl. Even though I didn’t talk to them the entire time, they were definitely talking about me in Swahili because they were quite obvious about looking at me while talking. Towards the end, DC wanted to show us his hens. I was like what? You have chickens, ok. Yeah no he has hundreds of chickens. He had a pen for the older chickens and then a pen for the baby chicks, there were literally hundreds. My favorite chickens are the ones with their neck feathers missing because they got into fights, they look so funny! DC walked Erasto and me to the dala stop and somehow I ended up with the rest of the birthday cake. On the last dala, we were smushed in the bus and a baby next to me was staring at me. Erasto leaned in to me and whispered, "He must be thinking 'It's an angel'." That might have been the best line of the evening. We got home and my community mates continued to tease me about the evening as we enjoyed the rest of the cake,
Also a quick update on everything else. My one student crush-er has turned into three - that I know of. Samson and Claus have joined the ranks and opt to sit with me outside instead of playing football with everybody else. I have also come to the conclusion that David is Napoleon Dynamite. They dance exactly the same way. I caught David doing a Michael Jackson impression the other day, he was totally in his own world. I wrote in a Valentine post-it I gave him in class that he dances really well. He came up to me and asked me if I meant it. I said of course! He was so happy that he did some more dance moves right there in class. Today he made a cell phone out of a piece of paper and was talking on it all day long, creativity at its finest in Tanzania.
My real adventure begins on the way home around 9 am. I was almost home when I hear someone say “Emirrryyyy!” I looked back and saw it was my friend Erasto. We exchanged greetings and then he asked me what I was doing later. Oh goodness, I thought, what is he going to ask me to do. So I say I don’t know but I also don’t know if my community mates have anything planned. As I can see my response is not the one he wished for, he asks me to go to his friends birthday party with him later that day. I said that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to go but he should call me later. He says I really should try to come, he really wants me to come and so does his friend (whom I have never met). Ok, so I bought some time to decide what I was going to do. I hadn’t heard anything all day so I thought I was off the hook. Caroline and Christen came back from Posta around 3:30 and informed me that Erasto called and texted us and said he will be by around 4 pm to pick me up. Yeah so I had a half hour. I realized I had not showered since Thursday night because I got back late on Friday and was going to go for a run later that day, so I grabbed a bucket to get water to take a shower. I walked outside and guess who was standing there! Erasto was at our house a half hour early (Tanzanians never show up on time, they maybe show up an hour or so late so I thought I had some time). Not only was he early, and I had not taken a shower, but earlier in the day I did laundry so all of my sheets, towels, and underwear were hanging outside to dry.
Ok, turn around, grab something to wear and just suck it up and go. I felt my face turning bright red (that has happened a few times here already). I quickly got ready and five minutes later we were out the door. I asked him where we were going today and he responded with “to support.” Uh? “It is my friends birthday, we go to support him.” Ok. Cool. We went to his house so he could change and I met his mother. We sat outside together, she only speaks Swahili and I only speak maybe 10 phrases of Swahili so our conversation did not go very far. We said an awful lot of “karibu” “asante” – “welcome” “thank you.” So if anybody is coming to Tanzania we are very welcome at Erasto’s house.
I met Erasto on my first day here and then on the fifth day here (the next time I saw him) he quizzed me on who he was and when I met him and he also quizzed me on my Swahili. I do not know any of his friends, neither do my community mates. So here I am venturing off in Africa alone with a Tanzanian friend to a place I have never been before to “support” a person I have never met. This is what I was anxious about. Thank goodness before we left Caroline told Erasto to take good care of me. Yeah, thanks. Well he took this very seriously (and I think he enjoyed it). We got to out stop (after he paid all of the dala fares) and he took an even stronger hold of my hand – he had been holding my hand almost the entire way, this is pretty common here though – and he held onto me for dear life as we crossed the road. Then he got on a kick of asking me if I was fearing or worrying. Because he had to take care of me he did not want me to fear or worry, so I had to give all of my fear and worry to him (what was I fearing and worrying about, I still don’t know but it’s ok because he took care of it). We walked and walked and I began to wonder where exactly he was taking me, and then just when I thought things couldn’t get stranger (by this time he had asked me to be his girlfriend), we arrive at the house of the birthday boy before the birthday boy. His mother and sisters were home so we sat inside and waited…and waited…and waited…I took in the room – the blinking Christmas lights, the stuffed animals displayed in the china cabinet next to the TV, the picture of Jesus on the wall. Finally another person came and Erasto leaves me to go outside. So I am sitting in this strangers house along. Soon he came back and we both went outside together where we did some more waiting. Slowly more people come and eventually even the birthday boy comes!!!
Tanzanian birthday parties typically follow a pattern, eat, drink, eat some more, drink some more, feed each other birthday cake, make a speech about the birthday person, talk some more and then go home. So sure enough, we eat samosas, chapate, and other snacks, drank fanta, ate some more and drank some more. Then the birthday cake came out and DC, the birthday boy, cut it into smallish pieces and got ready for the feeding – the most awkward part of any birthday here. I got ready, keep in mind I met this person maybe 2 hours earlier, and it comes to be my turn. So he takes a toothpick and a piece of cake and we get awkwardly close and he feeds me a piece of cake. Meanwhile this whole time there is a dude on the other side of the table taking pictures of me the entire time we are there. Every time I look up he had the came pointed at me and is smiling. Well my cake experience is done for this birthday – phew. We finally do some introductions, I have been sitting at a table of all guys for 2 ours and none of them talked to me and I didn’t talk to any of them. Turns out I am the first “person like me” that they ever met. I was also the only girl. Even though I didn’t talk to them the entire time, they were definitely talking about me in Swahili because they were quite obvious about looking at me while talking. Towards the end, DC wanted to show us his hens. I was like what? You have chickens, ok. Yeah no he has hundreds of chickens. He had a pen for the older chickens and then a pen for the baby chicks, there were literally hundreds. My favorite chickens are the ones with their neck feathers missing because they got into fights, they look so funny! DC walked Erasto and me to the dala stop and somehow I ended up with the rest of the birthday cake. On the last dala, we were smushed in the bus and a baby next to me was staring at me. Erasto leaned in to me and whispered, "He must be thinking 'It's an angel'." That might have been the best line of the evening. We got home and my community mates continued to tease me about the evening as we enjoyed the rest of the cake,
Also a quick update on everything else. My one student crush-er has turned into three - that I know of. Samson and Claus have joined the ranks and opt to sit with me outside instead of playing football with everybody else. I have also come to the conclusion that David is Napoleon Dynamite. They dance exactly the same way. I caught David doing a Michael Jackson impression the other day, he was totally in his own world. I wrote in a Valentine post-it I gave him in class that he dances really well. He came up to me and asked me if I meant it. I said of course! He was so happy that he did some more dance moves right there in class. Today he made a cell phone out of a piece of paper and was talking on it all day long, creativity at its finest in Tanzania.
Friday, January 30, 2009
What do the Macarena, Rede, and a Bucket Top Have in Common?
Happy 8 weeks! What a wonderful way to celebrate this occasion this morning, we had Mass...in English!!!!!!! My first English Mass in two months!!!!! It was so comforting to be able to fully participate and understand everything that was going on, the words being prayed and the music being sung meant so much, more than they ever have before. It was just what I needed this morning, a great way to praise God and celebrate these past two months.
Well now that I wrote about my first day of school two weeks late, I am going to write about the past three weeks of school. First I have to say that I cannot believe I have been teaching for three weeks. The days go by so quickly!!! I would like to share some of the highlights of my time at Gonzaga.
David. David is a student who I will probably be sharing many stories about. He is 9 years old and has an amazing imagination. He does not have too many friends and so oftentimes entertains himself during Tea and Lunch. So one day while I was outside with the students I look over and see David in the middle of the field dancing. Yes, David is dancing the Macarena. And it was a fully legit Macarena at that. He had all of the hand motions, the hip wiggle (which was his favorite) and the jumping and doing it in a different direction. He was even mouthing something but I couldn't hear what it was. Then he tried it again...with a half coconut shell balanced on his head.If it fell off he had to start over again. I don't think he saw me because he would have stopped, but it was so entertaining to watch. A few days later I saw him by himself again so I went over to him. I asked what he was doing as he was sawing at some leaves with a large plastic pipe. He responded "cooking." "Oh," I said, "what are you cooking?" "Meat." Cool. So I sat down and engaged him in conversation about his cooking. He had taken a broken slab of concrete, found some leaves an a broken plastic pipe and started chopping the meat. Then he "turned the stove on," literally turned an imaginary dial on he front of the bench he was going to cook on and put all of the chopped meat on the stove. He added some salt (dirt) and some pepper (dirt from another location) and then stirred it all together. What comes next is great. He found a rock and said it was a coconut. So he took a "machete" and cut it open, poured the coconut juice into his concoction and then started grating the coconut!! Of course he added these shavings to the dish. When it was fially finished we had to go inside, but I was really looking forward to getting to try some. Maybe next time.
Lunch today was my favorite part of the day. Nicholas brought a "frisbee" to school, actually a plastic top of a bucket and started teaching some of the students how to play. So I joined in that for a little. I kicked the soccer ball around when it went out of bounds and got reactions from the students "Teacha, teacha!" Yes, teacha Emily can play soccer. The girls dragged me over to play rede with them, a surprisingly violent game involving throwing a ball at people and then targeting one person to hit. When you are hit you are out. I played with all of these girls who are half my height, I was not at an advantage.
I have a posse at Gonzaga. There are three or four girls who follow me around everywhere. Whenever we go outside they are right behind me. The entire time we are outside they are asking me questions and sitting with me. I ask "dont you want to go play with your friends?" They respond "We can play here!" I also have a student who has a crush on me. As the days go by it becomes more and more obvious, but also really cute. Today he found out how old I was because th girls were asking me, and I asked him how old he was. He is 9. He started off by asking me if Teacher Nicholas was my brother, when I said yes and saw his reaction I knew there was a reason for the question. This boy tried so hard to be the last one in the classroom so he can walk with me places. Today he purposely didnt finish his test so that he could stay later with me, I know this because he is a smart boy and usually finished relatively quickly. He just hangs around trying to pass time so that other students will leave. He sat with me a few times at Tea and Lunch when I was sitting with the girls. It takes guts at that age to sit with the opposite gender when all of your friends are on the opposite side of the room. I am sure I will have more stories about him as well.
Well, tomorrow is my first PTA meeting which will be conducted in Kiswahili so I will have no idea what is going on. I get to teach religion to Standard three!!! I am so excited about this. Teaching religion is possibly one of my favorite things to do.
So some reflections of these past weeks: Being in Africa is difficult. Being so far away from home and friends and family is hard. This is definitely a challenging vocation and sometimes I think, God are you serious that you want me here? But then days like today happen, or the kids from across the road see me and come running to me, or I understand a little more Swahili and I am reminded of my purpose here. I am reminded of the Gospel from my sending Mass, about how Jesus is the vine and we are the branches. I am totally a branch right now, depending completely and wholeheartedly on that vine to give me everything I need. How can I survive here on my own? There is no way. That vine has been the one thing keeping me going. Without it my work here would be fruitless.
I love Africa. I love the people here. I do not want to be any other place in the world. I have been embraced by everything here and in turn I have given my heart to everything here. I am so blessed to be able to have this experience, and I hope that through these messages you can share in my joy and happiness here. You have been so supportive in my formation and my journey. I cannot thank you all enough, so I hope these glimpses into my life here will show a little bit how grateful I am for everything you all have done.
Take care, God Bless, and at Mass or whenever you are looking at the sky, know that I am sharing in that same Eucharist and looking at the same moon and stars. I think about that every night. I miss you all.
Well now that I wrote about my first day of school two weeks late, I am going to write about the past three weeks of school. First I have to say that I cannot believe I have been teaching for three weeks. The days go by so quickly!!! I would like to share some of the highlights of my time at Gonzaga.
David. David is a student who I will probably be sharing many stories about. He is 9 years old and has an amazing imagination. He does not have too many friends and so oftentimes entertains himself during Tea and Lunch. So one day while I was outside with the students I look over and see David in the middle of the field dancing. Yes, David is dancing the Macarena. And it was a fully legit Macarena at that. He had all of the hand motions, the hip wiggle (which was his favorite) and the jumping and doing it in a different direction. He was even mouthing something but I couldn't hear what it was. Then he tried it again...with a half coconut shell balanced on his head.If it fell off he had to start over again. I don't think he saw me because he would have stopped, but it was so entertaining to watch. A few days later I saw him by himself again so I went over to him. I asked what he was doing as he was sawing at some leaves with a large plastic pipe. He responded "cooking." "Oh," I said, "what are you cooking?" "Meat." Cool. So I sat down and engaged him in conversation about his cooking. He had taken a broken slab of concrete, found some leaves an a broken plastic pipe and started chopping the meat. Then he "turned the stove on," literally turned an imaginary dial on he front of the bench he was going to cook on and put all of the chopped meat on the stove. He added some salt (dirt) and some pepper (dirt from another location) and then stirred it all together. What comes next is great. He found a rock and said it was a coconut. So he took a "machete" and cut it open, poured the coconut juice into his concoction and then started grating the coconut!! Of course he added these shavings to the dish. When it was fially finished we had to go inside, but I was really looking forward to getting to try some. Maybe next time.
Lunch today was my favorite part of the day. Nicholas brought a "frisbee" to school, actually a plastic top of a bucket and started teaching some of the students how to play. So I joined in that for a little. I kicked the soccer ball around when it went out of bounds and got reactions from the students "Teacha, teacha!" Yes, teacha Emily can play soccer. The girls dragged me over to play rede with them, a surprisingly violent game involving throwing a ball at people and then targeting one person to hit. When you are hit you are out. I played with all of these girls who are half my height, I was not at an advantage.
I have a posse at Gonzaga. There are three or four girls who follow me around everywhere. Whenever we go outside they are right behind me. The entire time we are outside they are asking me questions and sitting with me. I ask "dont you want to go play with your friends?" They respond "We can play here!" I also have a student who has a crush on me. As the days go by it becomes more and more obvious, but also really cute. Today he found out how old I was because th girls were asking me, and I asked him how old he was. He is 9. He started off by asking me if Teacher Nicholas was my brother, when I said yes and saw his reaction I knew there was a reason for the question. This boy tried so hard to be the last one in the classroom so he can walk with me places. Today he purposely didnt finish his test so that he could stay later with me, I know this because he is a smart boy and usually finished relatively quickly. He just hangs around trying to pass time so that other students will leave. He sat with me a few times at Tea and Lunch when I was sitting with the girls. It takes guts at that age to sit with the opposite gender when all of your friends are on the opposite side of the room. I am sure I will have more stories about him as well.
Well, tomorrow is my first PTA meeting which will be conducted in Kiswahili so I will have no idea what is going on. I get to teach religion to Standard three!!! I am so excited about this. Teaching religion is possibly one of my favorite things to do.
So some reflections of these past weeks: Being in Africa is difficult. Being so far away from home and friends and family is hard. This is definitely a challenging vocation and sometimes I think, God are you serious that you want me here? But then days like today happen, or the kids from across the road see me and come running to me, or I understand a little more Swahili and I am reminded of my purpose here. I am reminded of the Gospel from my sending Mass, about how Jesus is the vine and we are the branches. I am totally a branch right now, depending completely and wholeheartedly on that vine to give me everything I need. How can I survive here on my own? There is no way. That vine has been the one thing keeping me going. Without it my work here would be fruitless.
I love Africa. I love the people here. I do not want to be any other place in the world. I have been embraced by everything here and in turn I have given my heart to everything here. I am so blessed to be able to have this experience, and I hope that through these messages you can share in my joy and happiness here. You have been so supportive in my formation and my journey. I cannot thank you all enough, so I hope these glimpses into my life here will show a little bit how grateful I am for everything you all have done.
Take care, God Bless, and at Mass or whenever you are looking at the sky, know that I am sharing in that same Eucharist and looking at the same moon and stars. I think about that every night. I miss you all.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
And You Do the Hokey Pokey...
I started teaching almost two weeks ago already. Needless to say these past two weeks have been extremely busy and that is why my post about the first day of school is two weeks late. But here it is anyway.
Tuesday, January 13th marked the beginning of the 2009 academic year. The students had just had a month and a half off from school and I was just celebrating my being in country for 5 weeks. I am teaching at Gonzaga Primary School which started last year with the generous donation from a family wanting to promote Jesuit ecucation. There was a school/orphanage, Sarah Cobet, which was closing so Gonzaga took in the orphans to educate. Now we teach those students, many poor students from the area as well as many orphans from an organization called S.O.S. I am teaching standard 3 and 4, about the age equivalent of grades 3 and 4 (although I have students ranging from 8-11 in my standard 3). I am the class teacher for standard three so this means I am basically their homeroom teacher/moderator/mother at school/playmate/anything else you can think of.
So on the first day of school Nicholas and I walked to Gonzaga through the twisty alleyways behind peoples houses, over little streams, and through piles of garbage. We rounded the corner and saw a massive amount of little people standing inside the gates of Gonzaga. I became even more excited than I was before. We had a staff meeting the Wednesday before school started (yes the first staff meeting for the whole year was held only 6 days before school started). The meeting was supposed to begin at 7:30 but in actuality and true to Tanzanian time we did not start until 10:30 and we finished at 1:30. We are supposed to have about 12 people on staff, by this meeting we had 10. At the meeting one of the teachers told us he was not going to return so we were down to 9. We had one other new teacher at the meeting and then two days later he also, through text message, told us he was not coming to teach anymore. So we are starting off short 4 teachers. Ok, its ok we can do this! On the first day of school we have two new teachers who were hired over the weekend. However, one of the teachers from last year did not show up because he was sick.
So I get to school and I am told that the classroom I was shown the day before was not going to be my classroom anymore. I had already put my one poster up on the wall and started to get the feel of the room, but Hey! nothing like some last minute changes! Ok, so my classroom is moved, thats ok. We have no power. We have no running water. We have no class lists so I do not know who is supposed to be in my class. We have one schedule for the entire school to share. We have one computer at Gonzaga but we cannot use it because we have no power and therefore we cannot print off any more copies of the schedule. We are starting out on a great foot. We line up for assembly and I find the standard 3s. I was the first one to introduce myself, I was obviously the one who stuck out the most. After a little while Nicholas calls me up in front of everyone and invites me to do the hokey pokey with him. Nothing like doing the hokey pokey in front of 300 students on the first day of work. I had a great time! The students love it and by now we have done it a few times (the students laugh whenever Teacher Emily does the hokey pokey).
After assembly we went to our classroom and I was supposed to entertain the students for the first two hours.....I had things planned but I was assuming that the students would a least have a pencil and a notebook with them. I was wrong. None of the students had a pencil, notebook, or any of their textbooks. Gonzaga is an English medium school yet the accents of the students are so difficult to understand. They had a difficult time with my accent too. So here we are, me and 30 9 year old trying to communicate with each other, but mostly just saying what? huh? what? We went over class rules, the schedule of classes and I tried to have them write down some information about themselves. I gave them all index cards and wrote on the board what I wanted them to write on it. So many of them had questions that I wrote an example on the board using some of my information. So I wrote "my name is Emily Wallace, my birthday is May 30, my favorite color is green, I have an older brother Patrick and a younger sister Kate." I cannot tell you how many students I have whose names are Emily and whose birthday is May 30th and favorite color is green! I knew this was going to be a trick. For those of you who are interested, I have some interesting names of students. Wenceslaus, Moses, Sharifa, Witness, Shalom, Claus, Joha, Enea, Manka, Mpeli, and Anuciata. I will definitely be sharing stories about some of these students, I have many already.
I survived that first day, and the first week and even the second week. It gets hot at the school, especially since we have no fans in the classroom, but we also have no power to run them...
I cannot tell you all enough how much I love teaching. I was very apprehensive about teaching before I came here and even while prepping here but I leave at the end of the day excited to go back the next morning. Every morning when I wake up I cant wait to get to school and greet all of the students. This is the first time that I have been this excited about a job. This is exactly where I am supposed to be. I have no doubt in my mind. God has a crazy plan, it was this time last year that I was finishing my application for JVI and I was so unsure of what I was going to do this year. After many twists and turns, I have been led to this place so far away from my family and friends yet so close to my calling to love and serve. I am experiencing a peace in my life because I have such satisfaction in knowing that this is where God wants me. Every time I see my students and they run up to me, I know that this is how God is calling me to love each and every day for the next two years and I could not be happier.
I miss you all and I hope you are finding peace this new year.
Tuesday, January 13th marked the beginning of the 2009 academic year. The students had just had a month and a half off from school and I was just celebrating my being in country for 5 weeks. I am teaching at Gonzaga Primary School which started last year with the generous donation from a family wanting to promote Jesuit ecucation. There was a school/orphanage, Sarah Cobet, which was closing so Gonzaga took in the orphans to educate. Now we teach those students, many poor students from the area as well as many orphans from an organization called S.O.S. I am teaching standard 3 and 4, about the age equivalent of grades 3 and 4 (although I have students ranging from 8-11 in my standard 3). I am the class teacher for standard three so this means I am basically their homeroom teacher/moderator/mother at school/playmate/anything else you can think of.
So on the first day of school Nicholas and I walked to Gonzaga through the twisty alleyways behind peoples houses, over little streams, and through piles of garbage. We rounded the corner and saw a massive amount of little people standing inside the gates of Gonzaga. I became even more excited than I was before. We had a staff meeting the Wednesday before school started (yes the first staff meeting for the whole year was held only 6 days before school started). The meeting was supposed to begin at 7:30 but in actuality and true to Tanzanian time we did not start until 10:30 and we finished at 1:30. We are supposed to have about 12 people on staff, by this meeting we had 10. At the meeting one of the teachers told us he was not going to return so we were down to 9. We had one other new teacher at the meeting and then two days later he also, through text message, told us he was not coming to teach anymore. So we are starting off short 4 teachers. Ok, its ok we can do this! On the first day of school we have two new teachers who were hired over the weekend. However, one of the teachers from last year did not show up because he was sick.
So I get to school and I am told that the classroom I was shown the day before was not going to be my classroom anymore. I had already put my one poster up on the wall and started to get the feel of the room, but Hey! nothing like some last minute changes! Ok, so my classroom is moved, thats ok. We have no power. We have no running water. We have no class lists so I do not know who is supposed to be in my class. We have one schedule for the entire school to share. We have one computer at Gonzaga but we cannot use it because we have no power and therefore we cannot print off any more copies of the schedule. We are starting out on a great foot. We line up for assembly and I find the standard 3s. I was the first one to introduce myself, I was obviously the one who stuck out the most. After a little while Nicholas calls me up in front of everyone and invites me to do the hokey pokey with him. Nothing like doing the hokey pokey in front of 300 students on the first day of work. I had a great time! The students love it and by now we have done it a few times (the students laugh whenever Teacher Emily does the hokey pokey).
After assembly we went to our classroom and I was supposed to entertain the students for the first two hours.....I had things planned but I was assuming that the students would a least have a pencil and a notebook with them. I was wrong. None of the students had a pencil, notebook, or any of their textbooks. Gonzaga is an English medium school yet the accents of the students are so difficult to understand. They had a difficult time with my accent too. So here we are, me and 30 9 year old trying to communicate with each other, but mostly just saying what? huh? what? We went over class rules, the schedule of classes and I tried to have them write down some information about themselves. I gave them all index cards and wrote on the board what I wanted them to write on it. So many of them had questions that I wrote an example on the board using some of my information. So I wrote "my name is Emily Wallace, my birthday is May 30, my favorite color is green, I have an older brother Patrick and a younger sister Kate." I cannot tell you how many students I have whose names are Emily and whose birthday is May 30th and favorite color is green! I knew this was going to be a trick. For those of you who are interested, I have some interesting names of students. Wenceslaus, Moses, Sharifa, Witness, Shalom, Claus, Joha, Enea, Manka, Mpeli, and Anuciata. I will definitely be sharing stories about some of these students, I have many already.
I survived that first day, and the first week and even the second week. It gets hot at the school, especially since we have no fans in the classroom, but we also have no power to run them...
I cannot tell you all enough how much I love teaching. I was very apprehensive about teaching before I came here and even while prepping here but I leave at the end of the day excited to go back the next morning. Every morning when I wake up I cant wait to get to school and greet all of the students. This is the first time that I have been this excited about a job. This is exactly where I am supposed to be. I have no doubt in my mind. God has a crazy plan, it was this time last year that I was finishing my application for JVI and I was so unsure of what I was going to do this year. After many twists and turns, I have been led to this place so far away from my family and friends yet so close to my calling to love and serve. I am experiencing a peace in my life because I have such satisfaction in knowing that this is where God wants me. Every time I see my students and they run up to me, I know that this is how God is calling me to love each and every day for the next two years and I could not be happier.
I miss you all and I hope you are finding peace this new year.
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