Ups and Downs, but Still the Same Boring Ride.

So the enjoyment gap here for me (and Bill) is large and noticeable. For me, I notice that every day I am at the school, be it for Cheke Chea, Girls Club, or sitting in and/or speaking at another teacher's class, I am thoroughly steeped in glee. There are difficulties in these areas, of course: the language barrier, the lowered authority status with the kids from being mzungu, my own teaching ineptitude. However, for the most part, when I get a spare moment while up at Gyetighi Primary School, I find myself grateful for the bliss I feel if I've afforded myself any sense of accomplishment at the end of a lesson. Or, when I'm on my walk home--usually with anywhere between 3 and 6 of my Cheke Chea studends clinging to my hands and arms--the view of the green hills and mountains that layer the horizon and my reflection on the previous hours compete for my grins.

When I'm in Play Group, where I start my mornings, I am also cheerfully distracted. Six or eight rambunctious and giggly pre-preschool aged kids will do that to you. Each day is a little different, but mostly the same: books, legos, "Stop throwing!!", colouring, gymnastics, "Usipige!!" tag, "What colour is that?", London Bridge, laughing, "Who's choking me?" fake crying, real crying, looking for bugs, laughing again. The chaotic flow of Play Group is something to behold. Having Bill with me is great. He brings a lot of energy to Play Group and isn't just another pair of hands. A volunteer named Junior joined a few days ago. He's also great with the kids and I appreciate having him around in general. I think together, we have enough eyes, hands, shoulders, and legs to keep the kids under control.

The lowest points of the day are during and after group interactions with the other volunteers, particularly the ones mentioned from a few weekends ago and the catty interactions of others who indulged in all the bruised bitterness floating around in the wake of that bull. Bill wrote of the "hello" test of sorts that came to pass. There was a lot of schoolyard attitude involved in that, which I resent greatly. I feel like no one here knows how to address a situation even semidirectly.

In the past couple of days, the folks at the epicenter of this social ridiculousness have been saying "hello", surprisingly. I don't know how I'm expected to react to that. Their history of using greeting me as some sort of a test of my character doesn't make me feel like cooperating. However, at cocktail parties at India's house, for example, I'll cordially engage whomever talks to me in conversation; there's no reason for me to do anything that could be considered exacerbating in that kind of setting.

In the past week or so, there would be days when they'd all talk to me and days when they'd stay silent in a room with me. How on earth I was supposed to know how to predict and react to these social whims, I don't know. I can predict, though, that when I don't return the warmth on the days conversation is granted me, it's viewed as coldness on my part--nevermind the fact that I may be entitled to a healthy amount of indignation from the previous days of silence, exclusion, and easily readable facial expressions.

Ah, exclusion.

One of the most disappointing things about the group's behaviour is the lack of knowing what "the right thing to do" is. When Maggie was here, she planned a trip to Olduvai Gorge. She had a group of people in mind, but even invited the folks she considered to be awful, because it was the right thing to do. Of course they wouldn't have accepted the invitation--anyone could have predicted that--it was the adult act of extending the invitation which was important. When Maggie left, that kind of tact went with her. The group planned a day safari into Ngorongoro and invited everyone but Bill and myself. Were we invited, we wouldn't ave gone (though Bill says he would have just gone for the awkward presence) but they couldn't man up and even let us know what was going on. The new volunteers were invited in front of us, but after all the planning and preparation had taken place. Everything was quiet until it was clearly no chance of changing plans; something that stands out because, to be honest, the group's essence could never be appropriately described with the Q word. The audacity of even considering that Bill and I would consider spending our free day in a van with these people--no matter the setting--is enourmous. I can't imagine what would make any of them think we would have wanted in. They could have just shown that they were decent folk by inviting us, or making small talk about the trip without actually inviting us. I was disappointed, but not surprised, except for in the case of one individual who was a part of it all, from whom I expected better.

As Bill mentioned, the childishness and "he said/she said" eb and flow of social logic seeped into the staff realm, leaving us with diminished ability to actually approach the Volunteer Coordinator with our concerns. She never even asked Bill (the only person who could have backed up my perspective on things) for his take on things, where all other other volunteers involved had their say. I don't know if it was a decision informed by our being in a relationship, as if one opinion is the carbon copy of the other's, or if if she had just felt that an adequate amount of people had told her the same story that enough had been heard. Regardless, Bill and I both took offense at the display of a lack of interest in attending to our concerns. Further, it was difficult to even get her ear when we would approach her. Once the group got back from their trip, she started disappearing from meals far more quickly and we cross paths far less now than before this whole conflict. On top of that, we see her talking and joking with them quite fluidly. It's disappointing. It's irritating. It's a lot like what I imagine high school would have been like had I not the types of friends I had. What I don't understand is why the simple task of talking to me a little more (and Bill at all) to make sure that all of the facts, opinions, and feelings are known, scruitinized, and noted wasn't part of this social equation; why things had to go in the direction of teeny, schoolchildlike behaviour. This isn't a social club; it's an organizaiton. Organization is in the bloody root of the word.

But as Bill and I have both said, we do have our allies on the Staff (god... how pathetic does this whole situation sound...) and it's refreshing to talk to them about our aspirations, focus, and frustrations here. So we're not crazy. There are plenty of people who are empathetic to the situation and are able to offer wisdom from their insight and knowledge as to why certain things are the way they are, how things have been, and what we may and may not expect to come of our setup.

Anyway... more to spew later I'm sure. Time for other things. We are looking forward to a trip to Arusha tomorrow.