Adventures in Dodoma

A little later than intended, but finally I’ve gotten some time to update about our trip to Dodoma. Dodoma and Ilula were almost antithesis of each other in every respect, but I’m glad we got to go. It was a very cultural excursion to say the least.

 Unlike the week before where we left on Friday, we didn’t leave until Saturday morning because we knew that we would not be able to leave Sunday afternoon. Since we’d be staying until Monday morning then, we decided we didn’t have to leave after school Friday and we got to have some down time. Saturday morning, at about 11, our bus left Morogoro, and the ride was pretty short. It was only about three and a half hours to Dodoma. As we started to pull into Dodoma, both Christine and I were surprised by how quiet and peaceful everything was. Dodoma is not the biggest city in Tanzania, but it is the capital, and we were in the city, not like Ilula where we were an hour from the city Iringa. When we go to the bus stand, the Dodoma UMC pastor met us and took us to his home. We were still in the city, but his house was surrounded by small maize fields. It was a strange feeling, almost like being back in Deuel county. Morogoro is definitely the biggest city I’ve ever lived in, but we live in such a residential area that it doesn’t feel super city-ish. However, there’s usually a number of people out and walking about all day, the church is next door so if something’s happening there, we know about it, I always hear people at the duka nearby, etc. Even later on when we did walk by shops and more active areas, it was still much quieter than Morogoro.

When we arrived to his house, we were graciously treated to standard Tanzanian hospitality, a meal almost as soon as we sat down. We talked with the pastor, and quickly established a primarily Swahili conversation. I’m really proud of my Swahili abilities. For having no formal training other than my books that I’ve gone through when I’ve found some time, I understood about 90% of the conversation. Since Christine has gone to language school, she did almost all of the talking. I’m not very good yet at forming the sentences. Most of the time, I get so excited at knowing the right verb to use in the first place that I get over excited and speak before I know the first part which is also slightly important, the subject and tense. It was really good practice for me though, and it was easier to keep pace with Christine’s Swahili because I can understand her accent better. Also, the pastor was cognizant of our limited abilities so he was patient with us and spoke slower. We got to meet his wife and a few of his children (7 total, oldest being about 14-15, youngest a baby).

 The Pastor suggested we could go see the church. We went outside and started walking. We had only gone the length of the building when he stopped. Both of us were confused, so we looked up and then saw the painted sign above the church “United Methodist Church of Dodoma.” This is the true meaning of parsonage; his house and the church are the same building. We went inside, and it was a simple setup. I’m sure someday our church will look similar when we get a roof put on so it’s more enclosed. I believe I put up a picture in my last blog post in case you want to see it. After a few minutes, we asked about the preschool he had mentioned and if we could go see that. He pointed to a small blackboard on one of the walls. This building is literally the entire ministry of the Dodoma UMC, church, parsonage and preschool. Like I said before, this was the total opposite of IOP. While that ministry was almost overwhelming, this was rather small, and after the week before feeling like our site in Morogoro was nothing, it was a firm reminder that we are doing a lot in our area.

They wanted to give us time to rest, so they escorted us to the guesthouse we would be staying at. It was about 7 or 8 minutes from their house, and it was very nice. It had a western feel to it, at least in my opinion. It was quite simple; each room had a queen bed, a chair, TV and bathroom, which came with a western style toilet even. Christine and I shared a room to save on money, so we hung out for a few hours while waiting to eventually go back to the pastor’s house for another meal. Around 7:30, he returned, bought us a pop, and after that we went back to his house. A couple parishioners joined us this time, and after a few songs and a prayer, we went off back to the hotel.

The next morning Sunday school started at 9:30 although the Dodoma church wasn’t quite as punctual as ours. Nevertheless, things got going. An elderly gentleman who knew some English sat between me and Christine and translated only bits of pieces of the Sunday School lesson (which is just another sermon really) for us. I didn’t get the whole idea, not really close even, but at least we knew the scripture involved. Then the actual service started. Oh my. Now, this was praise at its finest. This wasn’t the hip-swaying of Morogoro, this was entire bodily involvement worship to the Lord. Hardly anyone was really staying in one defined spot. One man was so enthusiastic in what he was doing that we couldn’t take pictures of it; we had to get videos. At points his foot was going ABOVE his head! It was crazy! I feel like we also worshipped a lot more than most of the churches I’ve been to in Tanzania. We really had few of the traditional elements in this service; no Apostles creed, Lord’s prayer, I don’t even think we sang a traditional hymn. It was ok, but the amount of activity was almost exhausting for us. I was asked to pray out loud, something that I’ve now been forced to get a lot better at. When they got to the sermon, someone else translated line by line for us, which was nice. They then welcomed us to the church. I was surprised by this because usually when we’re guests at a churches, there’s a time in the service where we have to introduce ourselves. We had already done this, but then they asked us to sit up front, read us this brief history of the Dodoma church, asked for financial support to get electiricty in the building, and then presented us each with two khangas! That was such a shock to be given a gift like that. They then asked us to say something to the congregation which was somewhat awkward. They thankfully didn’t expect it in Swahili or anything, but to be put so on the spot wasn’t very fun, particularly when they were likely wanting us to say we’d help them financially. The service then ended and we had time to greet the congregation before going back to the pastor’s house for lunch where parishioners once again joined us.

That afternoon I went back to the hotel and rested while Christine visited a friend originally from Morogoro but left very soon after I arrived. That evening we visited the house of a congregation member and chatted with them. Their son, who was in secondary school, did a lot of translation for us which was very helpful because they were asking us strange questions that would have been very difficult to translate into Swahili. For instance, they asked us about Rihanna’s tattoo and if WWE wrestling is real or acted. Very strange. After that we headed back to the hotel for the night.

We had originally planned to catch a 6 or 6:30 AM bus out of Dodoma back to Morogoro so that we could be back to school probably around 11. That way we’d only miss a half day, and because we knew in advance, we had left work with one of the other teachers who had volunteered to assign it to the classes we would miss for us. However, the pastor asked us if we would meet the preschoolers the next morning. We knew that would set us back a few hours in the day, so we figured out if we could and decided that it would be ok. It’s really impolite to say no, and we made sure it would be very fast, meet the kids and the teacher and that’s it. The next morning we were there at about 7:50. Just the teacher and one or two students were there. Over the next 20 minutes they trickled in; while we waited, she showed us some of their work. It was pretty cute to see their practice attempts of making their letters. Most of them were very shy around us and afraid to asnwer if we asked questions. After a picture of the kids and a quick cup of tea because again it’s impolite to say no, we headed off to the bus station and back home. We arrived at around 12:30-1pm. I ended up missing two more classes than originally planned, but all in all it worked out ok.

I had meant to post this as soon as I could after returning, but here it’s almost been a week already! This week actually went by pretty normally, but things always are off when you miss a day, especially when you missed a day, but everyone else didn’t. Everyday felt like a race to get caught back up. We're meeting more with Class  VII too now; I have to go to school early on Tuesday's and stay late on Wednesday's to do extra science with them. Next week we’ll do our first set of monthly tests. They’re mostly short, except for Class VII, but at least it’ll give an idea of whether or not the students are retaining the information. This week will be pretty quiet, or at least it should be. After all this travelling, getting a weekend home was so nice, and I’m really excited for a quiet, normal week. Once March hits, I’m afraid my last few weeks here will be a whirlwind, and then it will be over.

I hope all is well and that everyone is staying warm!

God bless,

Kjirstin

Finally, pictures! :D

First off, let me apologize for this. I know many people have wanted to see pictures, but for some reason I've had lots of problems with my blog. Today though, it's working, so I'm going nuts uploading while it is. A post describing the trip to Dodoma (which some of the pictures are from) will be up later this week. Enjoy! :)

Morningside Hike

Morogro, from the top of Morningside Mountain.

The Lutheran Church at the top of Morningside

My wounds from the fall on the hike. I promise, they've healed!

Ilula

The orphanage girls at Ilula

The United Methodist Church/ IOP Preschool

Me farming, using my feet as a hoe. Upendo is the person in the back, using the actual hoe to dig up dirt. If you suspect that this took a while, it did. We only managed to do nine rows in four hours.

Dodoma

The Dodoma UMC, with the pastor in front.

The inside of the Dodoma Methodist church

The church ladies actually gave us each 2 kangas!

Church was quite the dance party at Dodoma. We had to take videos to capture everything!

And now, for some school pictures!

This is one of the two class buildings. Right now, this is classes I-IV. The other building is basically the same, with one less classroom. 

The tan building to the left is the administration building where the head teacher, school manager (Pastor) and secretary work. We call the plants "the flowers".

Listening to our heartbeats in Class VI

Practicing telling time with our newly donated, individual clocks! Thank you so much, they worked great!

I know I said I would never beat a child, but never say never. I don't actually consider this beating, but it took me a while to actually find the right spot on his knee cap, so the poor kid got hit a few times on the top of his shin. Thankfully, I wasn't trying to be too hard, and he was a good sport about it!

I'm so happy I was able to get these up and share a bit of my life here with you all! I heard there was some bad weather back home, so everyone, please be safe!

God bless,

Kjirstin

Tulikwenda Iringa!

Translation: We went to Iringa!

Well, this last week wasn’t as busy, with the exception of this weekend. As I said last time, we were travelling but I mixed up the sites. We actually went to Iringa, and I’m very glad we got to go! We had a great time and got to see an amazing ministry in action.

Things started off Friday afternoon earlier than we had anticipated. Since we have a shorter day on Friday’s, we figured we would go to school, leave on time, go back to the house to get ready, and leave Morogoro maybe around 2, putting us in Iringa around 6 or so. However, Pastor went and got us tickets which was a blessing because that was one less thing to worry about when we got to the bus stand. The problem was this bus was leaving at 1, and we were being informed at about 10:45 with two hours of school left. We made things work, and although we were rather rushed, we made it to the bus on time and headed out of Morogoro after sitting on the bus for an hour at the shop. I really wasn’t too bothered by the stopping or the repairs; it was the welding on the inside of the bus while we were still on the inside of the bus that kind of disturbed me. Nonetheless, at about 2:45 we started up again. This was the first time I was travelling in Tanzania in a different direction; every time (which haven’t been many since my arrival) that I’ve left Morogoro I’ve gone on the DAR road. This time we went the opposite direction; after about an hour, much to my pleasant surprise, we passed through Mikumi National Park, a wildlife reserve. For the first time, I saw wild giraffes, elephants, zebras, antelope, etc. So cool!

To get to Iringa, you have to actually go up and down a mountain; I’ve basically concluded that Tanzania has tons of mountains because this was a whole other set from the Uluguru mountains in Morogoro and there are more in Tanzania, including the famous Mt. Kilimanjaro. Anyway, the drive was a little precarious, and it felt like the driver wanted to make up for the time lost during the repairs because he went awfully fast around some pretty small curves. However, he did succeed in making up time because we got there around 6:30 despite delays. We knew we were going to IOP, Ilula Orphan Program which is close to but not in Iringa and we had contact with the head of it, but we really didn’t know anything else. When we arrived, there were a group of 4 or 5 mzungus there to greet us, which Christine and I were not expecting. It became quickly apparent that this was a huge operation as the girls started explaining things to us. All of them were volunteers who were doing gap years of service. There were more of them at the building; they were just the ones who had come to greet us.

When we actually got to the site, we learned that we were in the volunteer quarters, the orphanage, and main living spaces but there was also a high school, preschool, and more. As the night continued on we were also told about the sewing, shoemaking, carpentry, and welding shops that provided local people with jobs, the shops and restaurants to sell those items, even the hope of adding a primary school too! To help run everything, there are numerous volunteers there mostly from Europe all the time. Basically, we were in the midst of a huge and impressive ministry, all started incredibly only 11 years ago by one missionary. Berit was an amazing person to talk to; her story and how God has used her and blessed her work is absolutely mind blowing. She truly cares for the girls she works with and takes care of and wants to make a huge impact on the world around her. I’m not sure she could be a better job than she is.

That night was pretty calm; we got there and pretty soon after we ate supper. The orphanage girls, about 30 of them mostly teenaged, then sang welcome songs for us, danced for us, and made us dance with them. I hope at least entertained them with my awful African dancing. We spent the rest of the night talking to Berit. The living space was a very interesting mix of Tanzanian resources with Western ideas. We stayed with the volunteers; each room (and there were many) had four bunk beds, two wardrobes, two desks, etc. It reminded me of church camp cabins. The bathrooms were a bit more Tanzanian; all of the toilets were “squat toilets” or glorified holes in the ground that you squat over to use. They’re incredibly awkward, but at least these were rather clean. The showers weren’t really any different than Morogoro except the water wasn’t just cold, it was icy! The water in our pipes really shouldn’t be called cold; it’s just not temperature modified, and usually that just makes it lukewarm. Sometimes, depending on how long it’s been sitting in the pipes, it’s even a little warm. These were hard to put your whole body under at once.

The next morning, we were asked to help the pastor at the Methodist church who works a lot with IOP; he needed to plant sunflower seeds on his shamba (farm). So, Christine and I got to farm like real Tanzanians. Before going further into this story, I should qualify shambas. A shamba is more of a very large garden, not a farm like back home. Just about everyone, regardless of other occupation, has one in Tanzania. However, I will still say I farmed like a Tanzanian and be proud of it! We only had Upendo (the pastor), Christine, and myself with one jembe (hoe), a whole bunch of sunflower seeds, and a larger field than we could not plant in one morning. We still made the biggest dent we could with the time we had. Upendo went first with the jembe digging up the dirt, Christine followed with the seeds, and I then went covering up the dirt. We really needed another jembe for me to cover up the holes, but we didn’t have one so I just had to use my feet. We were blessed with a wonderfully cool, cloudy morning. I hardly sweated that much even! I somehow managed to still burn my arms and feet, but it didn’t feel bad at the time. We only planted about 9 rows. Upendo had some matter he had to attend to at the time so for a long while it was just me and Christine. The looks of people passing by, seeing two white woman farming with nothing more than a jembe was hilarious. We’d greet them smiling in Swahili or He He (the local tribal language), and they were even more surprised. :D

That afternoon we got a tour of the whole site, which took a whole hour and a half, just to give an idea of how large everything is. That night the volunteers played a movie for the girls, Tarzan. The one thing I would have loved to do that we didn’t would have been to talk to the girls more. We really only saw them that first night; when we ate, we only ate with the other volunteers. I appreciated getting to talk to other people closer to my age and situation than the missionaries in Morogoro, but I wanted to talk more to girls about their daily lives. The next morning we got to go to the Methodist church, which is still too small for a building (although the plans have been made and foundation has been laid). They met in IOP’s preschool. Upendo said that when he arrived to Ilula, there were only three members. The church was started at the same time as ours, 20 years ago when Pastor Umba and the five other Congolese missioanries came to Tanzania to start the United Methodist church. However, the Ilula church has gone through a number of difficult struggles one after and another. Hopefully now, with a pastor as passionate and dedicated as Upendo (which incidentally means love in Swahili) things will change. He’s already  gotten the membership up to 24 in a number of months, and has plans to do so much that it will be something very fun to watch grow. The service was rather similar to ours, but a bit more traditional. We sang a lot more hymns than our church; the sermon was also preached in English and Swahili because Upendo is bilingual (bwana asifewe!). After lunch with everyone, we got ready to head out.

This was trickier than we had originally anticipated. Since we weren’t in Iringa proper, we had to wait for a but to come by basically. Also, we were leaving at the wrong time of day. Buses tend to leave from Iringa early in the morning because most are going to DAR, 8 hours away. Thankfully those that go to DAR will stop in Morogoro, but leaving at 2 was rather late. We waited for an hour and watched a number of buses go by. If a bus still has room, they will pick people up, but, apparently, the buses had all filled in Iringa because they kept driving on by. Finally, a small vehicle, bigger than a dala dala but smaller than a coach bus drove by with a “Private” sign in front. Upendo stopped and asked and they agreed to take us to Morogoro. We know the bus was on the way to DAR, and we think it might have been a church group. The whole time we were in the vehicle they played Swahili gospel music, and some women in the back with me were openly reading their Bibles. The ride took a while to get going, but we made it back to Morogoro at 7 pm Sunday night. It was a lot for a few days, and both of us were exhausted that night. Like I said though, getting to see such an amazing ministry was so worth it.

The only things I have to report about Morogoro life is that every day God reminds me what a blessing my kids are. I’ve been struggling with homesickness lately. I feel like I just want to be done with this adventure and back in America, and really, it’s not the life here. I still don’t mind bucket showers, the mosquitoes, the heat, etc. Well, not very much anyway, and not enough to make me want to return, but I really miss the people back home. Thankfully, every day from about 7:40 am to 2:40 pm this isn’t even a concern to me. I just get to spend the day with my kids, and I’m having the reverse problem there. It’s just two months until I leave, and I really have to start facing the reality that I will be saying good bye soon. Even if two months sounds like a long time, it’s really not. To add even more, time will fly. We will be going to Dodoma to visit the Methodist church there soon, the first weekend in March we’re going to Mt. Kilimanjaro and the last full week I’m here we’re going to the Serengeti. Every time I think about my last few days at school, I really get the urge to tear up, and I dread it.

I’m learning just how hard it is to have your heart in two places at once. That’s what I admire about people like Berit. She goes home one month every year; Tanzania is her real home. I’m not suggesting that I’ll be staying longer here or moving here forever. I’m quite certain that God isn’t calling me to do that, or at least not very soon. I’ll be back in America, and I plan to stay for a while when I return. I truly learning a lot though about how to be better servant of God’s people. It requires a long commitment, truly dedicating yourself and your gifts to others. In a six-month term, you can’t do that. You can accomplish perhaps a tiny sliver of it, but the kind of giving that we are called to by God is virtually impossible. However, God doesn’t call us to give just to those in third world countries; we should give to every one we can no matter where we are, and hopefully I get to continue doing just that, here and back home soon.

God bless,

Kjirstin

Miezi nne!

I had the realization the other day that I have officially been here for four months. Wow! In some ways that seems true to me and in others it doesn't. Other than that, I'm not entirely sure how to comment on this milestone. It simply is. In fact, I really don't have any way to neatly and coherently sum up this week's events other than a multitude of vignettes. Some are short, some are long, some are with the kids, some aren't, but they are all parts of my life here. Enjoy!

-One day this week, I went into Class VII to hand back a science exercise book. Class VII didn't have a teacher, and they were on a slow but steady incline to rowdiness, so I made the standard threat of "if you guys don't have enough work, I can always give you more to do." Of course, that's followed by, "NO MADAM!" and then quiet. One of the girls followed me out to our desk and asked if we could do "science experiements." I was confused at first, but then I realized that she was talking about what I've been doing with Class V. Since we're studying the circulatory system and I have a stethoscope, what better thing to do than to listen to hearbeats and take pulses? I thought about it for a minute, and then I was like "Ok." Playing with Class VII sounded way more fun than correcting :) We took pulses, then I made them run around outside just to raise their pulses, we did the math on how many times their hearts beat every minute, every hour, every day, every year, and then how many times since they were born. I then took the stethoscope around to each student so they could hear their hearts; if we couldn't find theirs quickly, they listened to mine. Some were slightly embarassed to wear the stethoscope, I had one or two who didn't even want to at first. However, they always got this slow smile on their faces when they heard "the drum" and they all assured me that their hearts were good and strong. :)

-In this week's English class, since they started getting religious vocabulary, I decided to do a translation project. So, I got to translate the Lord's Prayer with them from Swahili to English. I feel that alone speaks for itself, but tt was awesome to go to the Swahili version and realize how much I could figure out. It was a really fun activity!

-I tossed a rock into the cultural pond and made a large ripple. Christine and I were heading back home after going shopping, and the dala dala was full. Its interior design made it smaller to begin with, and there were a large number of people on it. We were just leaving town though, so we still had a ways to go when we stopped again. I was thinking "This had better be a small child or we're not going to fit them on." Nope, older, big woman. I was sitting in the seat closest the door, so the woman was trying to squeeze past me to the last open spot, standing in the aisle next to me. However, there was just no reasonable way to accomplish this, so I stood up, took the aisle spot, and gave her my seat. Since I was so close to the front, I couldn't see the faces of everyone else, but apparently they were pretty shocked by the mzungu giving up her seat for the woman. They were trying to figure out from looking at the back of me is I was old or young; culturally, if I was not a mzungu, at my age this would have been appropriate but not necessarily expected. If I would have been clearly a child, it would have been expected. However, wazungu get a special placement and special respect, so this was very unexpected and apparently shocking.

-I got to have my first (very small) bargaining experience this week. On Friday, Christine and I went kitange shopping because I only had one and wanted more. We went to some shops by the market where I found four (!) that I liked. In most shops here, the price isn't really set in stone. This can work against wazungu because people here assume we have a lot of money. In comparison, this is true, and I don't blame them for wanting to make a little extra money. We just don't have to pay it if it's too unfair, and usually us starting to walk away is enough to make the price reasonable. Bargaining itself is an art, and then doing it in Swahili makes it all the more interesting. It worked out ok; I love my new kitanges, and I got good prices! :D

-This is a chore I expect to never have to worry about when I return to America. On Saturday afternoon, I spent a solid hour sewing holes in my mosquito net. You have to tuck the net in around your bed which pulls on it, and because the wood used to make the beds is rougher here than in the US, it abuses them. I feel like every morning I wake up and there are two mosquitoes on the inside of my net, and they're always fat. Sadly, the next morning, I found one new hole, a hole that the thread came undone, and one fat mosquito in my net.

-On Wednesday night, I had a flashback to the days of waiting to see if the next day is going to be a late start or snow day. That afternoon, the head teacher told us that one of the next two days was going to be a Muslim holiday, it depended on the moon that night. That meant we were either going to get Thursday or Friday off, but we were planning like it would be Friday. Well, that night the power went out from 6 pm to 11 pm. So, we had no way of knowing if the Muslim's had called the holiday on Thursday or Friday. We didn't know what it was about the moon that they needed because the moon was out that night, we just basically had no idea what was going on. We just planned that we would go to school the next day, which was good because we did, which we learned at 6 am Thursday morning.

-The good news that I don't believe I ever reported: Pastor's son Nathan got accepted into seconday school in Mtwara! It's a technical school, so it's focused on math and science, perfect for an aspiring doctor! The bad news: A few days in, Nathan got a bad enough case of malaria that he missed three days of classes. Pastor and his wife went on Friday to go see him, but before they did, Christine and I made a card for him. This was a half hour long project that included on the front a hand about to kill a mosquito and the mosquito aware of his imminent doom, about twenty stickers, and far too much enjoyment on our part. Please pray for him that he feels better soon! We heard he's still pretty weak, but he was able to go to class at the end of the week. Going to secondary school so far away was a pretty scary experience alone, and this is a really hard way to begin that experience.

-Friday night, Christine and I ran into a slight water shortage. Mama Vanessa had come over in the morning to clean and do laundry which uses a lot of water, and by the end of the day, we had one bucket left for the two of us to shower with. How do you fix that? Simple! There was a slight trickle of water coming out of the sink faucet, so I put the pitcher under the sink, let the trickle fill the pitcher, and dumped into another bucket for my shower. Life in Tanzania.


I think that's all I have for now. To conclude, I have a few prayer requests. First off, as I mentioned, please pray for Nathan. Next, please pray for Pastor; he lost one of his sisters this week. He won't be able to go to the funeral, so please keep him and his family in your prayers. Also, please pray for me this week. As the science teacher, I've been assigned to teach some more sensitive topics in class, and I'm not looking forward to it. It's important information that needs to be taught, and I really want it to be beneficial for the kids, so please pray for them too. Finally, please pray for Christine and I next weekend. We will be travelling to Dodoma to visit the Methodist church there and another UMC Missionary, who herself is actually Korean. I'll be very excited to update again after our trip!

God bless,

Kjirstin

Back to school!

Some things never change. I’m going to try to keep this to a reasonable length, but I’m sure I’m going to sound exactly the way I did when I came home from my first day of school: “And, and then this happened…. And this happened… and oh my gosh then it was this…..and I have to tell you about this…” Please, bear with me.

This week was a whirlwind, but a fantastic one! School is off to sprinting start to say the least, and I’ve really enjoyed getting back into the swing of things. Provided the schedule stays relatively the same until I leave, my mornings are going to very intense this term. Every morning except Thursday, I am busy teaching or reading with the English classes from 8 am to 11:20 when we stop for break. However, my afternoons will be very calm, which is good. Every teacher needs some time for correcting!

We’ve had some major class changes, and it’s definitely thrown us for a loop. Eight kids from the previous Class V did not go on to Class VI, which means Class VI now has about 20 kids and Class V swells to just under 40. It’s really not the best situation for the Class V kids; they’re an incredibly intelligent class. They just took their national exams last year in Class IV, and every one passed. One of our students even got one of the highest scores in Morogoro! They continue to surprise us too. One of the girls informed us of her birthday one day, including the year; she turned eight a few weeks before I arrived. She’s so smart, she’s articulate in English (her second language), and not only that, but she’s become smart by learning in her second language! In that class, it’s almost kid after kid with stories like that. Yes, not all of them are outstanding students, but even the worst in the class just aren’t that bad. Now, add in eight kids who struggle a lot. These were the kids in my remedial math class last year, and you’re faced with a conundrum of who to teach, how, etc. And with trying to keep 40 kids on task at once, it’s really hard to take time to help them because once you look away, the room volume has an amazing ability to raise a few decibels. I’m not really sure who’s going to end up getting focused on in that class. If we had the resources (mostly a separate classroom which we now don’t have), I think we would seriously try to institute a remedial class.

Likewise, this does now make Class VI really easy to teach. It seems like there’s hardly any of them, and the ones that are left do ok and are well behaved. They’re even more well behaved for me at the moment because they’re still terrified of me, as is Class VII. They don’t really know what I’m going to be like as a teacher, so they almost refuse to talk. I can hardly read their faces to try to figure out if they’re understanding the concepts I’m teaching. And at this stage of the relationship, they seek only to please Madam, so when I say “All right guys, do you have any questions?” the answer will be no. I still ask.  It’s really almost all for kicks and giggles. Class V on the other hand knows me too well. They don’t want to behave as well for me, but between me and Christine, they’re getting a bit of a crackdown. I’ve taken away a number of breaks this week because kids haven’t been doing work, and they’re being forced to take seriously the idea of homework which isn’t very common here. In many ways I understand. Since the textbooks are so small, it’s not uncommon for kids to buy the books, but not all of them have them. If you assign work, you’re forcing a number of students to either do the work in school during break, during another teacher’s class or to come before school since we lock up the school’s books as soon as school is over (seriously, I have my own cupboard and keys). I want kids to have a break because they need it, they’re kids! And I don’t want them doing other teacher’s work in my class so I don’t want the reverse to happen. However, we’re trying to do it. In all of my science classes, I usually give two or three questions a day about what we talked about, and every day I check to make sure it’s at least done. I’m praying that the longer we go with this new system, the better they’ll get at it so we won’t have to punish them for not doing their work like we have been this week.

Teaching this much science is turning out to be a particular challenge to me. I’ve basically concluded that every line in their text books is important, so we almost have to read the textbooks verbatim. Also, I should clarify textbooks; none of them are longer than 170 pages. However, it is expected that you as the teacher will get through all of the material in the year (for Class VII we’ve been asked to finish it by June to allow more preparation time for the national exam). So, in some ways we’re moving fast. I try to do discussions as much as I can, but I’m finding it still quite limited. That more or less leaves our learning methods down to memorization of the material. I’m trying to come up with other ways to liven up the learning, with hopefully an additional purpose of increasing retention, especially since when it comes to their exam, that’s sadly all that matters.

In other non-school related events, things have been also busy. Last Sunday I taught Sunday school as usual, but then preached at the youth service, and Christine and I hosted the missionary prayer service. Last night Christine spent the night in town, so I had my first night at home by myself; it really wasn’t a big deal, but everyone commented on it. I barely even noticed because I had to get early for a Saturday anyway. Lauren invited me to a seminar for Sunday School teachers, and I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I said yes. We walked to a church about fifteen minutes away from our street with Lauren, the Pastor’s wife, Pastor Eunice, and myself. The seminar was put on by Operation Christmas Child, which I think we’ve contributed to from our church. Essentially, this organization sends a Christmas shoebox to children in impoverished nations. In each shoebox, they have a little book which explains the story of Jesus, but the organization goes further, which is what they primarily discussed with us. They also have written a twelve week lesson book to further kids growth in Christ if they want to do it. The hope is that kids will get exposed to Jesus and interested in him from the boxes, and then they’ll want to do the twelve-week course. If they complete it, they get a certificate hardcover copy of the New Testament. The seminar was interesting, but it went long. They spent a long time on why children were valuable and why they should be taught, which I recognize as all the more important in this sort of culture. Children just aren’t as valued here as they are in the US, so it’s good that they spent a long time discussing how to teach children in a loving and beneficial manner. Sadly, I know if we start this (we don’t have the boxes yet, so I’m not sure when we will) I won’t be able to finish it since it’s twelve weeks. It was interesting nonetheless, but way too long. My body hurt from the benches by the end of it.

Clearly, we’re getting back in the swing of things, and our work is cut out for us. However, I was right. My postulation that going back to school would alleviate my mood during break was entirely on target. I don’t know how I found such favor in his eyes, but the blessing God provided me with in these kids is beyond measure. They just brighten my day so much, and I love getting to work with them. There are frustrations do crop up with children, with teaching them, and with the culture differences here, but getting to be back in school really has been simply wonderful. :)

God bless,

Kjirstin

Precious Moments

Well, in great contrast to my last post, things have been rather boring the last week and a half. After the mountain climb, Christine and I have spent most of every day in Kihonda just hanging out. We've watched a number of movies, spent time with the Pastor's family, and gone to town a few times usually just for groceries although we did go out for lunch on Monday. Also on Monday we started making teaching schemes (lesson plans) for the new year. The good news I found out is I don't have to write my teaching scheme for the whole year, just for the time I'll be here. I learned lots of other things on Monday, such as I'm teaching Math V and Science V again this year. I'm thrilled about this beause it means I get to keep the same kids that I was teaching at the end of last year. In addition, I will be teaching Class VI and VII Science which I'm much more apprehensive about. I've worked with all these kids individually, and some of the Class VI kids in the remedial math class (which I don't think will be possible this year between time and possible space). However, I haven't taught them in a classroom setting, so I'm a little nervous at the moment. I'm even more nervous about Class VII because we have been asked to push them through their books so that they can prepare for national exams in September, and since I'm leaving the next teacher with whatever I haven't taught, I don't want to leave him or her a daunting task. I also learned that because of the way the schedule works, when we close for Easter break, that is the end of teaching for me. It was a really shocking moment when I realized that I only have ten weeks teaching and then I'm done. I always thought we'd only have one week off for Easter, come back for a few days, say my good byes and then go to England en route to America; it's only a difference of a few days, but it makes me really sad and I don't want such a large good bye to color my last few weeks here.

While my mind has been munching on all of these things, I've also been thinking a lot about the differences in the last few weeks. Without school, life here is just strange and empty. In many ways, it's a very good challenge. It's helping me to understand what I like about being here, what I like about my work here, what I don't like about my work here, etc. I've been a lot more homesick, maybe because of my recent vacation with my Mom and getting to go back to the first world, even if it wasn't my home or even my own country. But I think a larger reason is that I came here to serve others, and that made up so much of my joy here. Without the service, there went my joy. It's reaffirmed other decisions of mine; for instance, one of the driving factors for me leaving full time school was frustration of being only a student. Clearly, with more time I've been trying to get more schoolwork done, and I have suddenly reverted to being a full-time student once more. Even though I've had flashes of doubts about this decision throughout the last few months, I've realized now how much I don't miss it. Getting to mix my school with teaching truly keeps both in check for me. When I've had too much of one, I can switch and keep both in perspective. I get to serve by teaching now and prepare myself for a greater servanthood someday when I have earned my degree.

Well, enough about that, since I don't have as much to really update about, I decided to post a number of, well, "precious moments" that have happened since I've arrived here. Teaching English as a second language to children is often so very entertaining because the most interesting things come out. These are just a few that I hope will brighten your day!

For a journal assignment about "If you could be any animal, what would you be and why?" we got the reply of:

"I would want to be a cow because I want to be eaten. I think I would taste good. I think people would enjoy eating me."


When writing about advice on how to be good, one student advised:

"We should not beat old people." I think we can all agree.


We gave Class IV an assignment to write a letter to God, and we let them make them really nice by writing them on construction paper and coloring them. Before they could do that though they had to have us approve the letter. I picked up one and the first thing I read is "Die God,"

Me (to the child and quite shocked): What were you trying write here?
Child: Dear God.
Me: You did not write that.


Towards the end of the year, when I started to be in the classroom more, I noticed that whenever the kids couldn't read the board because I was writing, they would say "Madam, squeeze!" I always understood what they meant, so I always just reacted, but finally, one day:
Me: Guys, why do you say 'Squeeze' whenever you want me to move?
No one could really give me a straight answer.
Me: All right, do you guys know what squeeze actually means?
No one did.
Me: I need a volunteer.
One of the little boys came up, and I squeezed him really tight, to the amusement of the class.
Me: Ok, from now on, whenever you want me to move so you can read the board, you need to say "Madam, please move." If you say "Madam squeeze" or "Madam move" and don't say please, I will come over and squeeze you.

I have had to do this a few times. Since that day, "squeeze" has become a sort of swear word to them. Whenever someone says it, they run out to our desk saying "Madam, madam, so-so said 'squeeze'!" regardless of whether or not they said squeeze to mean move or to actually mean squeeze.


This exchange occured in my Class IV Math one day:
Boy brings me his exercise book: Finished Madam!
Me: Ok, do you have extra work?
Boy: No Madam.
Me: Ok, you can work on flashcards with someone else, (a little girl) is done, work with her.
He goes off, I thought to work with her, I was working with other students and didn't notice. Suddenly,
The girl I had told him to work with: Madam! He won't work with me because I'm a girl!
I looked to him: Is this true?
Boy: Madam, madam, please don't make me work with her!
Me (teasingly): Are you afraid of girls?
Boy: No Madam, it's not that, just please don't make me work with her! Please let me work with a boy!
Right then another boy finishes his work and brings me his book.
Boy 1: Madam, Madam, please let me work him!
Boy 2: Yes Madam, let us work together!
Me (to Boy 2 and still teasing): Are you afraid of girls?
Boy 2: Yes Madam!
I was surprised by his answer for a few moments.
Me: All right, you admitted it. You don't have to work with a girl.

For the record, one of these boys gave me a hug good bye at the end of the year. I love my kids, and I'm really excited for our new year on Monday! :)


God bless,

Kjirstin

Heri Christmasi na uwena furahaya mwaka mpya!

Merry (belated) Christmas and Happy 2013 (also belated)! I hope everyone's holidays, celebrations, family get togethers, meals, church services, and all the in-betweens went smoothly, safely, and joyously. As I mentioned in my last blog, I was lucky enough to go to Europe for about two weeks with my mom. It was, to say the least, a memorable trip and unique Christmas.

Things started off with a wonderful God blessed day getting to Europe. Pastor agreed to accompany me to DAR to the airport to help me get organized since this would be only my second trip to the DAR airport, and I really wasn't in a condition the first time to be paying attention to the little nuances that would be helpful to know on later trips. My flight didn't leave until 8 pm, which was an intentional choice on my part. Getting to DAR from Morogoro is a four hour bus ride, roughly; choosing a later flight would mean someone could accompany me to DAR and still have time to return to Morogoro in the same day without having to spend the night. I told Pastor I wanted to be in DAR at least by 4 pm. He suggested we leave at 6 am. Since I was asking him to go with me, I really didn't think I should argue, so bright and early at 5 AM the alarm went off. We left Morogoro at 6:30 AM. We got to DAR at 9:50 AM. That was probably the fastest ride to DAR ever. I wasn't really excited about the 10 hour wait at the airport, but I'm really glad that I agreed because it turned out to be an amazing day. Since we got there so early, Pastor suggested we go to the DAR Methodist Church, where the Tanzanian bishop serves (who I've also met and is a great guy). I said, "OK!" The church service was far more traditional than our style. I really felt like it was the true median between Methodist churches in the US and the pentecostal style of worship here. It was kind of fun and helped me get ready for Europe. At church, I met another, brand new missionary. She had only been in DAR for two weeks and was just starting language school. She hadn't yet figured our where she would be serving even. Apparently, I was the first foreigner she had seen the entire time, and she was thrilled! We talked for a while after the service, and we also talked with the bishop and Pastor. It was truly enjoyable, and before I knew it, it was already 2 in the afternoon! About that time we figured we should go to the airport so Pastor could go back to Morogoro.

After getting settled and organized at the airport, I went upstairs to the resturant because I hadn't eaten since 5 am. While there, a woman sat at the table in front of me, and because of a mutual agreement to watch each other's stuff while the other went to the bathroom, we started talking. She also was a missionary working with healthcare in villages. We exchanged stories and experiences, and I learned so much about the bigger picture of Tanzania. Sometimes, being in the same small world, you get swallowed up in those challenges and concerns. I learned I basically live in paradise in Morogoro. Morogoro is by no doubts a city; I believe it's bigger than Sioux Falls even. Our specific area, Kihonda, is not the poorest of the areas either, and because we are in a private school, a number of the families sending students there do have some money. This is relative to Tanzania of course, but nontheless, it makes a difference. I mean, I have electricity, running water, internet, a western style toilet, etc. Usually, not all of these are working at the same time, but they all are here in some quantity. With enough money, you can leave quite western here. The villages are a whole other world. The missionary I met told me how many of the people she met didn't even believe in giving their children education beyond basic arithemetic so the kids could do business. They believe in farming only and making sure their kids understand how to do that. They don't have water or electricity, or if they do they have very little. It was an eye-opening conversation. I knew that Tanzania was among the top 12 poorest nations in the world, but I was sheltered from the worst of it. Mostly, I've just seen beggars in town. Kihonda is median in terms of wealth, and while I know that, since it's the bulk of what I see, I'm sheltered from the reality.

Nonetheless, she was really good company, and before I knew it, it was 6 pm which meant I could officially check into my gate. At the DAR airport, apparetnly you can't even go through to the check in area until a couple hours before your flight. You have to go through two security checkpoints and customs even though you're leaving. Customs was kind of fun actually, it made me feel like a legitmate missionary. First off, if you weren't a resident or citizen of Tanzania, you had to fill out paperwork and what not, but I am now, so I got to breeze through. Secondly, I greeted the customs agent properly in Swahili. I could tell he was testing me because he went through a number of greetings before finally smiling and wishing me a good trip. Really, this whole day made me feel like an accomplished missionary. I utilized language throughout the day appropriately, I got to share my experiences, it hit how much I've grown and adjusted to. I think I can safely say I was in some state of bewilderment before this. It wasn't bad; most people really struggle with culture shock for a while. I was just more of in a funk. I wasn't so excited anymore about my life here, and with a lot of the events that happened at the end like the Youth Service that pushed me more than I felt ready for. By the time I left, I was really ready for a trip back to the first world which I hadn't been bothered by until the last week or so. Between this day, and getting to talk to my Mom about lots of things, more so than our skype conversations, kind of hit it home for me: I've done a lot here and I've grown a lot.

By the way, I really did go to Europe. I feel like for this blog though, that was maybe the most important day of the trip. Mom and I both met in Paris the next afternoon, eight hours later than expected (She ran into some problems, which is ironic because we expected if either of us would have problems, it would be me). But we made it! We saw the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, went to a small French town called Beaune which had a medieavel hospital, the Swiss Alps, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, "The Last Supper" in Milan, Venice, Florence and Rome. I assure you, we slept well every night. Christmas Eve was special because we went to the Vatican for Christmas Mass. I think there were at least 10,000 other people in the St. Peter's Basilica that night, and supposedly the square outside could hold up to 70,000. We got to the square at 7 pm, waited outside for almost two hours, and then got in. This was most intense line I had ever been in. I think we were already at around the 2,000/3,000 person mark when we got there. There were actually nuns and priests running inside to get good seats! At 10 pm, the Pope himself came in and led the mass. Granted, I'm not Catholic and I don't speak Italian, but it was still pretty amazing. We had a decent view too, we were off to the side of the nave. It was definitly unlike any Christmas I had celebrated before; my gut says I won't have too many like it too.

Mom and I went from France to Switzerland to Italy then back to France to finish up with one last day sightseeing in Paris. Thankfully that day, we also finally got to go through the bag of donated school items she brought from the states! It was so perfectly timed at Christmas- I felt like a little kid! I can't wait to use everything in the school and at the church. At about 11 am on Saturday the 29th, I left Paris. We landed in Naibrobi, Kenya about 10 pm Kenya time (which is the same as Tanzania). I had to get my second boarding pass from Nairobi to DAR printed in Nairobi, which I didn't understand why they said that in Paris and I'm glad I didn't ask there. I didn't have a lot of extra time in Paris, but I was expecting a ten hour layover in Nairobi, so I had plenty of time. The Kenyan Airways representative kept typing and not saying anything, or if he did it was only to ask what flight I was on, which I kept replying "The morning one to DAR." I didn't remember the exact time, but I didn't understand the problem. Finally he told me that I had been placed on the evening flight to DAR and that without an interary of any sort, he couldn't believe me. I hadn't exactly had access to printing means (nor had I thought it necessary). I needed to get back to DAR in the morning, or at least early afternoon because Christine had arrived from her trip to Spain to visit her sister the night before; she had to spend the night regardless, but she waited for me to land so we could go back to Morogoro together. I finally asked the representative if there was another flight to DAR in the morning. He said there was and put me on it with little problem. I still had a long layover, but I would get to DAR at 10:40 in the morning. He even assured me that my luggage would get to DAR on the morning flight.

The night passed surprisingly quickly. I realized around 3 am why I had ever been shifted flights in the first place. My flight had apparently been cancelled, which I was never informed of. Surprises. Well, things were going fine. About 6:45 when I was waiting to go into the gate (in Nairobi, you have to do security to get to the gate area and then do security to go through the gate itself) when I realized that we would be making a stop in Zanzaibar, an island off the coast of Tanzania first. All but three of us on the flight got off at Zanzibar, the plane refilled, and we finally got to DAR. I've mentioned before how I'm not a big fan of DAR especially compared to Morogoro; I've never been so happy to be back in DAR. I was just thrilled! That didn't last too long. Neither of my bags arrived, which didn't surprise me with the flight change, but did create a problem. Waiting until the evening would mean that Christine and I would have to spend the night in DAR which neither of us wanted to do. We both had hit the point where we just wanted to go home. I was assured though that my bags would arrive in Morogoro if the airline shipped them, which would have meant that Christine and I could go home then. I wasn't really sure if I trusted it, but we called Pastor and he said it was fine, so we went with it. My bags did arrive that evening in DAR, got sent on a bus the next day, and shipped to the bus office in town. When Christine and I went to the bus office the next day, there they were! I was shocked, but so happy! We unpacked all the supplies, but we won't be able to bring it to the school until maybe next week, if not when school starts on the 14th.

For New Year's Eve, we celebrated with the missionaries. It was an enjoyable night of fellowship, especially since I hadn't seen most since the beginning of December. Everyone stayed awake until midnight; our new year came at about 3 pm for most of you! :) We heard some fireworks going off throughout the night, but otherwise it was pretty quiet. People do celebrate; there was a church service, but we missed it. We spent the night at another missionary's house, stayed awake until 2:30 talking (a poor choice on our part), and then got up at 7 the next morning to climb a mountain. I've mentioned that Morogoro sits at the base of the Uluguru mountains, and I was actually a little disappointed with myself that I hadn't gone up one yet. But then it worked out to do this on our break, so Christine, the other missionary and I did. Apparently, the Uluguru mountains are harder than climbing Mt. Kilamanjaro even because they're so steep. It was a tough climb, but we chose one of the shorter paths. At the top, we had a fantastic view of Morogoro, it was so cool!

We went down a different path on the way down; this path was a lot narrower and steeper. It was ok, just sort of slow. Then we came across a sprinkler system for the crops on the mountainside (there are tons of farms throughout the mountains). The water made the even trickier though because the dirt became slippery mud. Again, ok for a while. Then I put my foot down on what I thought was a good hold, shifted my weight, and felt my foot slide out. There was no stopping it; a second later I was going down the mountainside. I rolled at least two or three times before I stopped, which mercifully wasn't too far down. There was a small plateau down the mountain 10-15 feet maybe. I slowed, stopped, and actually stood right back up. I was covered in mud and a bunch of scrapes on my right side, but nothing was broken or seriously hurt. We washed out the scrapes in a nearby stream and continued back down. I'm sore today, but again, considering what could have happened, I said a lot of thank you's to God yesterday.

Well, as you can see by now, we've only been back a few days, but a lot's already happend! I can't believe how naturally I fell back into life here. For about the first week, everything in the first world was exciting and new almost. I mean, hot showers, cold weather, pasta, soft bread, snow, safe water from the sink, it was wonderful! I was worried that coming back would be hard for me. It hasn't been actually, so I'm glad. It's shocking to me that in about three months that I'll be back to the US. I feel like I'm a fourth of the way through my time, not half. Things are a little strange now in that we aren't in school. Clearly, we've kept busy otherwise, and I plan to do lots of schoolwork during this time too. I know we'll soon have to do some work getting organized for the coming school year. It'll be strange for me since I'll only be here one fourth of the year; I've heard we plan out the whole year, but I'd feel bad doing that for some incoming teacher. We'll just have to see!

God bless,

Kjirstin