Easter Vacay

Maria says I need to blog more or something because my frustrations put her in awkward social situations too often, as it seems that I never pass up a chance to verbally jab at the wound that is the volunteer culture here.

So .....Easter vacation is over. And...It's been a rough week.

Everyone was assigned a grade level to tutor along with a pre-lunch job and a post lunch job. Maria was assigned to playgroup, and I volunteered to teach the standard 7 (about 7th grade) kids. This was followed by hours of ruling the library with an iron fist. On top of this workload, we still needed to translate the ask-it basket questions (mostly in Swahili) from health class, plus the occassional gymnastics spotting and/or induvidual guitar lessons. Before next week we need to develop three afterschool club curriculae.

Against this backdrop, other volunteers finally figured out that lesson planning a two hour class is work. Besides Maria and one other volunteer, no one else really knew what goes into trying to teach well.

A strange dynamic has evolved as over the weeks I have become a more and more confident and consistant disciplinarian. Now, I inwardly laugh as other volunteers fail to motivate kids to behave, whereas I can swoop in to effect immediate compliance. Once again, Maria and I really seem to have stepped into the shoes of two of the previous volunteers that were pariahs, except we don't suck.

The week began with a boom as one volunteer arrived into our house to drunkenly nurture our boys. I think that only the older boys understood her lack of sobriety. So we had a special talk about drunkenness and drunks. The conversation that began with a "This won't happen again" theme became a conversation about how to handle these idiot drunk volunteers as we realized that this wasn't the first drunken attention that they have received. Further, we tried to instill in the older boys the need to tattle to mama India and ask future drunk volunteers to leave. Unfortunately, only our house is getting this talk, and there are at least two other houses that NEED it.

Later in the same week, while Maria is laid up with strep throat, another volunteer claimed to be sick. By sick he meant hungover. Hungover from a night where he sneaked off of the property with his comrades in stupidity and passed out in the nearby village of campi Nairobi. This is all during an atmosphere where Maria is being grilled to work with the playgroup in the morning and being made to feel pressured to work. The playgroup convenes in a house where one child is HIV+ and three of the kids in playgroup live. Regardless, someone has to work, so Maria's absence is felt, as you simply can not half-ass it in playgroup like you can "working" in other capacities during the morning. So even if she has a strep throat infection, she should be watching the kids in playgroup. These self-entitled pieces of shit begin happy hour at 5, drink into the night, remain horizontal while they are supposed to be bonding with the younger kids, and then complain about preparing a lesson plan for 2 hours of schooling. These idiots would die in the real world if they had to pay rent. They would get fired for incompetence and then just die.

Shaudenfreaud kicked in on wednesday, as the most lame of the volunteers found that his chipped tooth had been stolen out of his pocket and lost by one his tutoring students. The student in question played a skillful "I don't know what you're talking about/ I must have dropped it somewhere" game. She suffered no repurcussions for the slight against him. I guess his mommy and daddy have to buy him a whole new tooth now. It is actually difficult to look at him straight on now and not think of how that tooth chip is gone for good.

The volunteer coordinator came back. That is good. I think. I get the feeling that she is duplicitous. My frustrations get coddled just as much as the others'. Except that I am not complaining about the menu, or about how hot my shower is. My frustrations are with people that she likes. And the people that she doesn't like; those are the people that I have found merit in. This orphanage should not care about customer service. It should care about kicking the idiots the fuck out, no matter how sweet they are during that window between being hung-over and drunk. I make it sound like it is bad everyday. It is not. But it is everyday, except when they are sick.

The internet costs are very high here. Because here in Tanzania, you pay by the megabyte. The trust fund kids don't give a shit about the cost, so they download movies and music. As someone who follows the rules, I get sick of hearing them talking about downloading stuff.

The boys in our house have discovered that injuries get them ice, which they then eat.

Now, we are alerted that the houses change in May, meaning that we will be assigned to a different house. All that talk of consitancy and boundaries is seeming to be pointless if we are going to be pulled from a house where we have enstated a positive change. Our house name is Serenghetti. If I am stuck watching kids and need something, or need help cleaning puke, or need little Dickson escorted home, I can ask a Serenghetti boy and they jump right to it. No other volunteers can lean on their kids the same way, and it is because our relationship is built on respect and praise rather than candy and mp3s. This relationship is the culmination of two months of hard work from Maria and I, and to have it swept away because of some arbitrary need to "change things up" for the volunteers to experience the "whole village" makes me angry. So much shit has been changed to accomodate the whims of other volunteers, it would be very lame to not have us accomodated on this point. If we started fresh in a different house our gains here would be lost, and whatever gains we made in a new house would be lost as it would be July by then.

The one female student teacher has left. She has been replaced by a girl from my English Confidence Class who walked three hours each way, three times a week to sit in on (what must have been volunteers fumbling) English taught by people with no Swahili knowledge. Her persistance paid off. Her twin sister was offered a day laboring job, and after a year can follow in the footsteps. I remember telling her two weeks ago to continue showing up here and that someone would step in to help. It is awesome that it worked out.

Mad world

Maybe it's because I'm coming down with something (my throat's all swell-y and everyone around here seems to have something from the grab-bag of illness we've been passing between each other) but I still can't shake what happened yesterday. A staff member showed up to Serengeti this morning and, able to tell we were angry about something, asked what was up. We told her. All morning, I was grinding my teeth with "How dare she?" and "What the hell is wrong with this place?" thought bubbles surrounding my head.

On our way to breakfast, the volunteer in question approached Bill and I and apologized for her behaviour. That was a mark of maturity I was certain was alien to this place. I plan on going to her later today and thanking her for acting like an adult and showing more respect than any other volunteer who has wronged us or the community while hammered has. Seriously, this is the first time anyone has owned up, and I can respect that. We all have done stupid things while drunk, but the amount of folks here who are unrepentant after they sober up because their egos are too fragile is overwhelming.

I am still angry, though, because this will happen again. Maybe not in this form, but drunken jackassery is not going to end here. It was so disempowering, last night, watching what happened happen, knowing that we couldn't say anything because (A) we wouldn't be backed up by the staff, at least effectively and within a good amount of time, (B) we aren't in a position where other volunteers take our criticisms professionally rather than personally, and (C) every little bit of friction here causes too large an amount of stress for me and I am losing my ability to stay invested while handling that kind of stress. On days when I am physically unwell or mentally fed up, why should I bother? they aren't... flows through my head. There's no clear and enforced standard of conduct, here. There's a lacking in intrinsic motivation to put effort into the work, and there's an absence in extrinsic motivation to stay in line beyond the minimum. I'm tired of hearing that something is "too hard". Too hard for what, I do not know. This morning, I had to talk to one of my pre-teens about what happened last night; a conversation he started with Bill and I. He said he was uncomfortable, that he could smell it on her breath, that he knew she fell asleep because of the alcohol, and that he knew she was going to be "grumpy" this morning. That's what's hard. The only thing Bill and I were able to say: "Yeah, that was wrong. We're sorry that happened," because we couldn't say "it won't happen again" and maintain the rapport of honesty we've established with Serengeti kids.

Bill and I are pesimistic in our outlook. Our only option is to, in our own house and with our own responsibilities here and at Gyetighi, exceed. Otherwise, we could sulk around all day because there's ample reason to crestfallen, it seems. The line started with the outside community, travelled within the community with the Primary School teachers, and got closer and closer to the kids until it actually involved the kids. What the hell are we supposed to think?

Don't kiss my boys while you're drunk.

It's nearly bedtime. Our boys are finishing up their Saturday night movie. Another volunteer just came into our house, plastered. I know she was drunk because I, like every adult here, have seen her drunk many times before. I don't mind that she's a drinker and I've compartmentalized the irritation related to her behaviours while she's drunk in such a way that it doesn't dig into me (she's far more tolerable than some of the other idiots here when they get a couple milliliters of alcohol into their systems), but Bill and I both became very, very concerned when she walked into Serengeti.

We could hear her leaving one house and approaching ours from outside. We were in our room so we walked out into the living room, just to be there while she interacted with the boys. She didn't do or say anything inappropriate; I don't know that were I 13 or 10 or 8 years old, I would have been able to identify her behaviour as alcohol-effected. I do know that she was drunk and hanging out with kids. I do know that the older boys were laughing about it, and I do hear some loose questioning going on in the living room with Bill (who is handling this quite tactfully, I must add). I do know that this has been an issue before, but apparently not an important enough one.

You see, this is a problem. This is a problem that will not be dealt with. This individual's drinking behaviour has been a topic of concern across the board. Every staff member here has made mention of it to me. But it's apparently not big enough a problem. I don't know what has to happen before someone gets reprimanded here, but interacting with the kids while inebriated seems like it should be somewhere far beyond the line one has to cross before there's some sort of intervention beyond a polite and ineffective "Soooo, we need to be careful about the drinking and the kids, okay guys?" at every third volunteer meeting. Either the Tanzanian Children's Fund people need to take action against the amount of alcohol available to the people in charge of taking care of the kids (because self-regulation is not a popular trait here), or they need to admit that they don't care about the fact that these people are interfacing with the children, the mamas, and the student teachers while inebriated. It doesn't just happen at the hotels and lodges with strangers who have word we're from RVCV. It doesn't just happen in the vans with the student teachers. It happens in the houses.

And Bill and I have no clue what to do. We've given up on telling folks about the things we see because nothing ever changes after they know. Word gets up the line somehow, sometimes, because either folks can't keep themselves under control even in the presence of staff members, or a TZ staff member or worker sees and hears things and that kind of information travels, or something. I don't know. We were told before to report the stuff that we see as inappropriate, but now, the most I will do is bitch to someone I whose judgment I trust, who may or may not happen to be on the staff. It could be an older volunteer who has made mention of similar concerns, an outside person who is familiar with the environment here, or someone actually on the staff. But I don't "report" because the message is clear that none of the volunteers' inappropriate behaviours matter.

Why didn't I ask her to leave? Because my rapport with this individual is not one that makes room for criticizing her behaviour, and as most might assume, confronting people while they're inebriated, because they're inebriated, doesn't eventuate in a seamless transition into peace. Had I asked her to get out, her pride would have been injured and an inflamed ego would have fueled too much for my kids to have to see. See, this is a setting in which the best possible situation here was to let the drunk stay with the kids. Do you understand how ridiculous that is? This is the environment I live in: where the drunks can roam where they please, drunk as they please, and I don't have the license to tell them to cut that shit out because it would be a "dick move" on my, "the judgmental bitch"'s part. People who do tell these individuals not to act in such a way don't get the back-up necessary to make the point stick, so we are easily viewed as party haters who just moodily bark our complaints out from time to time. It's obvious what the point of this place is not.

Holy shit, she's back.... That must be why Bill's been out there this whole time.

Correction: She did do and say inappropriate things. Apparently, after her return, she sat down between two of the oldest boys. She had one arm around A and was rubbing J's back with her other hand. Her legs and A's legs were sandwiched on top of each other. When I asked Bill how long that went on, he said "it was enough to make me uncomfortable... with Mole sitting on her lap, there wasn't a problem, but with the older boys, she seemed blissfully unaware that there might be a line there". Then, somewhere in there, she passed out with her head on A's shoulder. THIS IS WHY PEOPLE SHOULDN'T BE DRUNK AROUND KIDS. If this were a man in a house full of girls, well, I hope something would be done about it. The misconception that women are innocuous in the inappropriate behaviour with minors category probably exists here.

That not enough? She also said to the entire room at least three or four times, "You boys need a mother." To orphans. Profound. Appropriate. Bill said he replied with "They've got a mother; they've got two mothers!" upon each allegation.

The next time this happens, I will be there with my camcorder.

Bill and I will certainly remember this place.

I need more hours!!

Man am I tired...

I don't know if it's a lull after all of yesterday's excitement, but I am struggling to keep my eyes open today. Bill and I are constantly sighing about not having enough hours in the day to keep up with everything. We were at a point last week where keeping our heads just above the water was possible: I would help Bill develop English Confidence class lesson plans; he would help me keep control in Play Group so as to ensure against my wearing myself out before ten; and together we would develop and revise Science Club ideas. Now, with our added responsibilities, we are feeling the pressure.

I must state now that this is not a complaint against our new educational endeavours. We love what is happening here and are excited to be exhausted from doing something we are passionate about every day. I, personally, have been so cheesed about Darasa la Afya (Health Class -- I must refrain from calling it Sex Ed) that I've had a near constant grin on my face for the past 48 hours. As Bill and I go through the Roots & Shoots idea packets and try to brainstorm ideas, we get really into the process of figuring out what we anticipate will be successful with the students (it burns me that I can't actually be there for Roots & Shoots when it starts, as it falls on the same day and time slot as Girls Club [and I'm not leaving my girls]). I just caught Penn outside and asked if Bill and I could be excused from the Supervised Free Play part of the mornings (from 10 to lunch) so that we could each have more free time overlapping with internet service. Much of our planning so far has been done in our room at night before bed or in the time between bath time and dinner. I don't get a break during the day because nap time and my shift for Cheke Chea are at the same time. Penn said it was fine. I think it will be, too. We have plenty of volunteers here during the late morning and the worst our absence from the scene will do is force a couple of others to do more. Not to point any fingers, but it's difficult to feel sorry for people you're possibly putting more of a burden on when so often you see them in a supine position on a bunch of pillows during work hours. Pole sana (si kweli).

So, from now on, I'm free after Play Group on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays (at least for now) for the purposes of having more research time online. It's really important to me to get acquainted with the statistical successes and failures of Sexual Health and Relationships Education before I implement certain techniques into my curriculum, which Teller has entrusted me with developing (for her and the board's approval, of course). I also volunteered to collect and organize any and all data I come across regarding Sex Ed. and child safety or chastity concerns so that the more conservative members of the community and faculty who fear that this topic will somehow sexually corrupt or encourage the students to behave inappropriately can hopefully have some piece of mind from the very persuasive data that research has yielded worldwide.

On top of all of this planning (including the 1 1/2 inch stack of literature Teller handed me to review for the class) I have to prepare my Cheke Chea kids for an exam for which I know they are not prepared. The exam, I just learned, is this week, and they must learn the shapes and English words for moon, star, and sun, as well as apparently know how to not only write their names, but read and understand the words "What is your name?" on the test. Ouch. So... that's going to be a challenge, to say the least. I recently learned that the students in my class don't all even speak Swahili, so what I've learned to say to them in Swahili only gets to some of the students. Most of the remainder speak their tribal language, Iraq. I know, literally, two words in Iraq. So, that's a shida kubwa.

I'm running out of juice now (my computer is running low on battery, and I desperately need a nap... and, come to think of it, I don't have any OJ left) so I must go. I haven't seen my Serengeti kids since this morning, so I must at least make the effort before dinner.

Til later.

Darasa la Afya

Today was awesome. It was so exciting. Refreshing, invigorating and validating in ways I haven't felt here before. Oh yes: it was the first day of Sex Ed. at Gyetighi Primary School.

Bill and I have been entrusted with the task of educating the Standards 3 through 7 on the topic human growth & development. We got word of the news last Sunday when we returned from our time in Arusha. The first person we saw when we returned to RVCV was Teller. She coordinates everything involving volunteers from RVCV working at Gyetighi--our connection to her--and is the backbone of much of the progress that has taken place at that school. The woman is an asset to both institutions. Anyway, Teller brightened our week by telling us that while we were gone, our resumes were pulled up and looked at, that they made an impression, and that there were going to be changes in the volunteer schedules that play to our strengths: Bill going to be heading up the Roots & Shoots programme at Gyetighi, and I, like I said, am developing (under supervision) and teaching the Sexual Health Education.

We got word a few days ago on Friday of our new schedules. Lots of changes for some of us. Good ones, I think. Bill and I will clearly be very busy for the rest of our time here. There simply aren't enough hours in the day, but I don't mind it that way. I like not having time to sit around for multiple hours a day. Not here, at least, where there's so much to be done. Some other volunteers have been given some more responsibilities as well. Johnson, the newest long-term arrival, is a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and will be implementing some of her related skills into a martial arts after-school activity plan of sorts. Additionally, she will also be leading a girls' dance club and working with Teller in Little Girl's Club, whenever that one starts. Johnson seems devoted to her responsibilities here and has a way with dealing with the kids that is refreshing.

Our Sex Ed classes started today and will take place on Mondays and Fridays. On Mondays, we have Standards 3A, 3B, 4A and 4B. On Fridays, Standards 5, 6 A&B, and 7. That's four periods on each of the days. We had very minimal planning for today's lessons because the weekend didn't grant us much time to get something together. Bill and I scoured the RVCV library in search of any literature on human reproduction to no avail. It wasn't so bad a situation, however, I think in all cases today, the class was a success. Human Sexuality being very much my thing, Bill let me take the lead for much of the lecturing, and in the afternoon, I had to field one period without him completely. The basic layout for each lecture was the same: I introduced myself, welcomed the students to Afya class, told them why I was there and what we were going to teach, gave them license to giggle from time to time, and asked them to begin the process by letting me know what they already knew, or "knew". I had a blast, all day. Our first period was one of the Standard 3 classes, where Bill and I learned of the common belief held by these children that babies live in their mother's stomaches, got there from her eating food, and bursts out of her stomach Alien-style when ready. We also learned about the kids' curiosities involving male nipples. The question popped up again in my second Standard 3 class. Standards 4 A & B were much more aware of the differences between male and female bodies, although there were some cute, misguided beliefs about some things (eg, women have wide hips because that's how God likes it).

I wonder if so many children believe that babies break out of their mothers' stomaches because of some unusually high rate of Cesarean births here, or if it's simply a matter of not knowing where the exit could possibly be.

To help us (greatly) with the language barrier Teller,  is having the RVCV nurse, Neema, translate for us in class. Even in one day, I saw what I believe is growth on her part. I think for the most part, the people at least in this area of Tanzania are very conservative about sexual education. In fact, I know it based on the fact that there has been no Sex Ed. anywhere to be found here. This morning, in our first class, Neema seemed somewhat uncomfortable with having to say to the children what I was presenting to the class, and a mix of discomfort with the topic and appreciation of the innocence in the students' responses. By the afternoon classes, she was encouraging with the students and no longer looked to me with that bit of panic in her eyes. It could have been that in the morning she was just nervous about working with me or something. I don't know. The important thing is the perceivable progress made in just a matter of periods in one school day.

....Yay!

These changes represent more than Bill and I expected to be doing while here, but closer to what we thought would be happening before arriving. Now that Teller and Penn have reworked the volunteer schedules, Bill and I (and we imagine at least a couple others) feel as though our strengths are actually being played to; that we're not just babysitters anymore. It's just a shame that it took almost two months for things to be coordinated in such a successful way. On top of Bill's charisma with almost every kid here, his experience with and vast knowledge regarding science makes him an asset to this place, and his involvement with implementing the Roots & Shoots programme is perfectly time (except for the fact that we only have three months left, which leaves us very few lesson periods before we leave).

On top of the awesome changes, Superman, a friend we made in Arusha showed up today. He is a doctor, a surgeon, actually, and will be training Nurse Neema to more adequately treat the Rift Valley, et. al. He will be here, doing that, for about a week. That is exciting. He is also just a really bloody cool person with whom Bill and I feel lucky to have crossed paths (we watched The Boondock Saints together in Arusha). Things are improving, which is a great state for things to be in. I mean, I actually had Ren & Stimpy's "Happy Happy, Joy Joy" song stuck in my head today during my shower after school.

Also, I got told I look like I'm losing weight, while we're on the I-feel-good train...

More later.

Sorting it out

Maria has a post that she started over a week ago. I just finished a post that I started two days ago. And, our schedules are going to become more intense. There's a bunch of observations that we just don't have the time in a day to reflect on in writing for you guys.

That said, we apologize for the griping nature of the blog for the past few entries, but from our standpoint now, having withdrawn into a hellacious workload, things look like they are going to be pretty sweet.

There is a boy here, Boaz who is very sharp, curious, athletic, and a general pain in the butt (with periods of serious maturity.) He loves to talk about animals. And, no matter the animal, the conversation is always (roughly) like this:

Boaz: What if it bites me? Is it dangerous to people? What if two of them are around? Will it eat me? What if I throw a rock at it? Can it hurt someone bigger than me? What if I hit it with a stick? What if I run away? I don't like that.

Hyenas, sharks, and snakes have all been dissected many of times in this "sizing up" of their relative strengths. It is funny in that he relates to the world in a "can I take it in a fight" sort of mentality. I also enjoy the fact that his distances to try to anger the beasts are measured in rock throws and stick lengths.

Things are coming together

Again, you have to deal with a hodgepodge.

A New Mother Flippin Camera arrived yesterday!! Just in time to take a picture of kids in front of a Rainbow. (To be uploaded later)

So...things are looking up. Having withdrawn from the volunteer culture here seems to have placed the two of us in positions of respect. Tanzanian staffers (as well as other key staffers) treat Maria and I differently. It is probably because we don't treat them as hired help or irrelevant. Plus, we have shown enough effort to speak the language here to actually learn how to say more than the bare minimum. The house mamas are so encouraging when it comes to our fumbling in Swahili (much more proficient stumbling than 2 or 3 weeks ago, though) where we usually wind up having a good laugh when we finally understand what the heck they are driving at. We are greeted by the student teachers with much more affability than we see the other volunteers receive, so the experience that we had imagined while sitting around in America is still feasable, albeit in spite of a couple of awkward meals shared with the volunteers who seem to be here for the "I did charity" badge each day.

We went to Arusha last weekend. We left on Saturday with mama Upenda and wound up staying with an OT professional named !Woman who is a great friend of the director of the Rift Valley orphanage. She is a self-professed nerd (competent in swahili) who gets folks from rural Tanzania the charity medical care that they need. Her job seems to strive to connect the NGO to the needy; chances are that Guatemala/Belize needs something similar. After 6 weeks of only hours off each week, the sleeping the heck in (until noon) was AWESOMEly refreshing. Maria got to see a homeopath, which proved to be a very eye opening experience. The consultation had some very therapeutic elements ("how do you feel about this aspect of your illness?") and although I am sure that Maria will elaborate more on it via some electronic diary, for the first time in her life, her ethnic identity was portrayed as something positive ("universal citizen") rather than something like "Well, I can't tell" or "You could pass for Italian." I think that alone was an important milestone of an encounter, let alone the possibility of figuring this awful arthritis issue out. The trip to Arusha forces us to swim in a sea of Swahili and I can confidently say that we are exactly one click better at speaking in the language. I am not sure how many clicks it takes to be fluent, but I can now speak well enough to enter the awkward phase of conversation where dealing with me is a burden. I can't just smile through it like I used to. Yesssss! Progress.

When we returned, we experienced two (awesome) things. 1.) Last Sunday, a drunk, (let's call him Richard Move), cursed and was generally a Jackass in front of the teachers again, but this time, in front of a person on staff, to whom he challenged their legitamacy in confronting him. Selfishly, this corroborates the opinions cited here and it highlights how inconsiderately dumb he can be. As if his fucking opinion on the situation, through what would have to be magic, is the most correct one. The audacity in challenging the authority of a staffer in front of the people that she manages is astounding. 2.) Further, they pulled our resumes after getting the go ahead to begin developing a "Roots and Shoots" program here and were impressed by what they saw there. We are getting re-assigned to use our strengths. Maria is now a full partner in science club. I am going to spend much more time up at school teaching the hell out of some science. And hopefully the people who are treating this like a vacation where you are babysitting until happy hour will be assigned to the youngest kids who demand attention.

The Roots and Shoots program focuses on empowering youth with the understanding that social injustice and environmental issues are intimately linked. If you look at people on the sociological level through the prism of Maslow's heirarchy of needs you can see that people need to have their basics taken care of before they can start fighting for causes like sustainability, because we, at our core, need to be fundamentally selfish before we can be altruistic. I may be put into a leadership role in this and I am soooo excited about it.

I have some other orphan realizations that will be fun to write up a little later.

Badai

"Seeya"