Maisha Mazuri

I am using my laptop (for the first time in three months!) at a conference center in Morogoro (central Tanzania).  This milestone conference is my “Early Service Training” – which means that I have lived alone at site for almost three months.  I regret to say that I have not yet been able to write about the amazing, fulfilling, journey of the last three months – it’s a combination of being unable to access my laptop as well as more busy than I could have imagined.  But, I will do my best to write a few hasty  summaries on my cup full of blessings over the past three months.

Maisha Mazuri means “good life.”  Life is far too good to me – fact, not opinion.  My village is nestled in the foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro.  On clear days, the view of the peak, called Kibo, is breathtaking.  Most evenings, the cloud cover disappears for a while, and Africa’s tallest mountain is the backdrop for football, choir practice, food-begging, and the other evening student activities.

Our football field on a crystal clear morning 

The mountains make for a morning run with more “huffing” and “puffing” than the Big Bad Wolf himself, but I hope that my muscles will thank me later.  Our village is more accurately described as a lush banana farm, with houses and vegetable patches dotting the landscape.  The sun can get hot in the afternoons, but cool streams that run straight from the peak of Kilimanjaro are plentiful.

All smiles with some of my Advanced-level Students

My favorite place to visit in the village is called Kighunduma – a word in our tribal language, Kichagga.  It’s a hidden oasis, a virgin waterfall never marred by the feet of tourists.  The hike to the waterfall is long, and full of muddy slopes, thorny patches, and unblazed trails.  The final hurdle is a dangerously slippery, steeply graded hill that, I’m sure, most casual hikers would turn away from.  But, the persevering hiker will be soon rewarded, as this tumble-trap opens up directly into a rushing, rock-lined stream.  Carefully toeing the slippery rocks leads to the huge downward-tumbling column of water.  Days I have spent hiking to the waterfall with my students and friends are among my favorite in this country.

Visiting Kighunduma one day with my friend Seth, a nearby Volunteer.

“Buying local” is not even a choice, because I live on the most fertile ground on Earth.  I eat fresh eggs everyday from the school chickens that roam our beautiful campus and my house.  I drank fresh milk – well, until our mama cow passed away (a story for another time).  I can pick fresh papaya from a tree just outside of my house, and my students tell me that mangoes will soon be falling from the trees like rain!  My hope was to grow every variety of vegetables that I eat in my own mini-farm, but the chickens had other plans for the seeds that I planted and nurtured for weeks.  So, for now, I still spend my Saturdays conversing laughing and joking with local mamas at our weekly “sokoni,” or market.

The school, as a whole, has more resources than I could have imagined - and you will be hearing plenty more about the opportunities and challenges that accompany this soon!

I cannot believe the first house I have to myself is this beautiful!   I live on the entire top floor, and our school pastor, his wife (also a teacher, my mentor, and best friend), and their children live downstairs.

The house that my school provides for me is too good to believe.  I have three bedrooms – so plenty of space for my frequent visitors!  Clean, fresh running water is a huge blessing to all of the volunteers in my district.  In fact, I even have a Western flush toilet and a shower!  Electricity on most nights makes life incredibly easy.

My living room - I host chai guests here almost every day :)

It’s hard not to feel guilty, because many of my volunteer friends do not have running water or electricity, but I guess it’s another thing to accept the surprises of service, both good and bad.

You might call me a chronic optimist, but I truly do not think that anyone could have a complaint living in my community.  I could gush for hours about everything at my school and in my village, but I will let the pictures do some of the talking.  Enjoy a few glimpses into maisha mazuri – the good, good life.

Fifteen Minutes of Fame

Photo credit to Mohamed Mambo from the Daily News. Dr. Shukuru Kawambwa, the Minister for Education and Vocational Training, admiring the pin I wore when I was officially sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

The past week has triggered a whirlwind of emotions.  There are so many things that I could write about – my beautiful home and school in the foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro, my witty students, and the
beginnings of my new garden – but for now, I’ll focus on first things first.

On Wednesday, September 17, my class of sixty-one volunteers filed neatly into the American Embassy in Dar es Salaam.  We looked like a completely new group – pressed suits and fancy patterned dresses, moustaches clipped away and sparkling tresses.  Standing up to lead the national anthems (and landing in a gigantic photo in the national newspaper the following day), I felt tangible ripples of pride fall across the crowd.  It really did feel like the people of two nations were coming together, beginning a partnership that would last two years, and would relationships that will last a lifetime.  The day was exuberantly bright, and red, white and blue draped tents cloaked all of our guests.  The table of honor seated Mark Childress, the American ambassador to Tanzania, Dr. Shukuru Kawambwa, the Tanzanian Minister of Education, and Dr. Elizabeth O’Malley, our own Peace Corps Tanzania Director.  My class performed the “cups” song from Pitch Perfect – re-written to describe our experiences in Tanzania so far, with singing, dancing, and hand-made props.  Two members of our class delivered an eloquent and articulate speech – in both English and Kiswahili – much to the delight of the Tanzanians in the audience.

Close to the end of the ceremony, we took an oath, led by the ambassador, that officially confirmed us as Peace Corps Volunteers. After all the speeches and festivities, I think that all the volunteers felt for the first time that we were on the brink of change; about to depart on a once-in-a-lifetime journey.

A reporter from the Daily News, Tanzania’s English newspaper, began talking to me extensively early in the ceremony, and seemed to be snapping photos of me wherever I looked.  At one point, he raced me over to the Minister of Education, Dr. Shukuru Kawambwa, and took dozens of photos as I introduced myself.  The reporter told me that he wanted to write an article about women in science, and I agreed to answer a few of his questions.  I expected a small mention in an article about the newest Peace Corps Volunteers, but the article that came out today was anything but.  This afternoon, I got a message saying that my photo was on the front page of “Woman” Magazine, the insert to the Daily News.  The article, entitled, “Carol Noronha: Determined to help schoolgirls excel in science,” apparently, filled two pages worth of my interview and photos.  My village is far away from a town where I can buy the newspaper, but here is the online version if you’d like to see:

http://touch.dailynews.co.tz/index.php/features/36393-carol-noronha-determined-to-help-schoolgirls-excel-in-science

It is said that everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame – and mine came on a really momentous day.  It was the beginning of a journey; often called the “toughest job you’ll ever love.”  I expect this to be one of the most fulfilling as well as challenging, often comical, and altogether crazy experiences of my life.  Still, the best part will be embracing the parts that I cannot foresee.  Thank you for riding the roller coaster with me – and for sharing in this journey.

Brief Zawadi

Since it is 4:12 am, and I have been unable to sleep tonight for a variety of reasons, here is a quick post about my experiences visiting my future site this week, and an explanation of why my situation has changed since last week.

Site visits are an eagerly anticipated week of Peace Corps training.  It was a long break from the busy schedule and host of rules and regulations that trainees cope with in Korogwe, our training site.  Along with a group of approximately 20 trainees traveling to nearby regions, we began our journey to our future sites.  Our route took us through Moshi, a town in Kilimanjaro inhabited by many foreigners and ex-pats.  Thus, we enjoyed plenty of creature comforts for a night before heading to our villages.

On the way, we passed Lake Manyara National Park.  I saw baboons, giraffes, and herds of cattle, flanked by brightly decorated Masai herders, resting at watering holes.  Most of the scenes seemed straight out of the Lion King, the childhood favorite of my generation.

Before spending some time at my own school, I had the opportunity to visit a Peace Corps Volunteer’s current site.  His name is Charles, and he has been in service for two and a half years, teaching Advanced-level Biology for girls at Florian Secondary School.  Charles plans on extending his service for the next year and a half.  I had a wonderful time working with his students, because it is truly inspiring for me to work with women on the path to achievement in Tanzania.  In this country, there are many barriers that prevent most students, especially females, from passing all of their exams in the Ordinary Level and moving on to the Advanced Level.  So, Charles’ students are empowered and intelligent young women, most exactly my age.  They are thoughtful students, and ask questions that are beyond even my reach.

After a few days at Florian, the two other trainees in Karatu and myself headed to our own sites.  We managed to squeeze onto a crowded bus and meet many of the nearby villagers in the process.  I sat crammed between the driver’s incessantly scorching gear box and an old Masai man who asked me many questions in surprisingly clear Kiswahili (many Masai do not speak Kiswahili at all!)

My village, Kainam, is in the Rhotia ward of a town called Karatu.  This is why the school is called Kainam Rhotia Secondary School.  I was lucky to be able to meet my head of school (a woman!) in town, and we traveled to the village together in her friends’ car.  I spent two nights at site, but they were far different than I anticipated.

As soon as I arrived at the school, the teachers called an assembly so I could meet all of my students.  They were fewer in number than I expected, and seemed to be mostly female.  Altogether, there were only about 100 students, more reserved and somber than the friendly students of the Tanga region that I have become accustomed to.  Afterwards, I was led to my new home by Zawadi (meaning “gift” in Kiswahili), my counterpart teacher.  It is a small home, with a living room and bedroom, with an outdoor toilet and bathing area attached by a courtyard.  While the house does not have running water or electricity, it came fully furnished and outfitted with many of the belongings of the previous volunteer, who had left just a month ago.  It seemed like a home even before I set my bag down.

A half-dozen students entered my home and helped me to clean it.  The carefully scrubbed each room, every dish in sight, and dozens of buckets that littered the courtyard.  I made conversation with a few of them, but was a little surprised with their reserved nature compared to the students in Korogwe.  However, I started feeling very sick within an hour or so of being in my new home.  I had a case of food poisoning that would put me in bed for the majority of the next day.  Luckily, Zawadi was extremely sweet to a foreign stranger she had just met.  She cooked every meal for me during my visit, in spite of the fact that I was too weak for conversation during most of the meals.  I missed the opportunity to enter the classrooms on my first full day at Kainam, but I was glad to begin forming a relationship with my neighbor.  The last morning at site, I was feeling well enough to work.  Due to rain and mud, I had a bit more time than I anticipated that morning before departing from Kainan.  I was able to discuss my goals with the teachers, as well as set my schedule for teaching.  I would be the only full-time science teacher at Kainam.  Right now, there is no Physics or Chemistry teacher, and I agreed to take over these responsibilities for all four of the Forms.  At the moment, there is an advanced-level student who is teaching Biology for all the Forms, and I would be expected to take over his duties in a month or so.  I also had the opportunity to visit the “local laboratory” at Kainam.  Because of scarcity of resources, most schools in Tanzania lack the necessary equipment and materials to teach a comprehensive science education.  However, because of trainings from Peace Corps, I was fairly optimistic about my ability to create experiments from locally-available and inexpensive resources.

The rains of the morning gradually seeped into the thick red mud, and I was able to make my way out of the village.  Although the Peace Corps prohibits the use of motorcycles worldwide, riding on the back of a “piki-piki,” or motorcycle, was the only way to reach our isolated school.  I hopped on the back of a motorcycle, and enjoyed the crisp fall air as we raced past a landscape of green fields peppered with farmers tending the crops.

We have now returned back to Korogwe to finish our final language and technical exams.  After a few days in Korogwe, I have both bad and good news.  The bad news is, I will be removed from my site.  Kainam Rhotia will have no science teacher for now, and maybe not for the next few years.  That means that every student in the village will not be able to create an egg-drop apparatus in Physics class, will not be able to learn about their own ecosystem in Biology class, and will not learn that many chemistry experiments can be performed with materials found at their local corner shop.  I will not be able to teach at Kainam Rhotia because I cannot get to the school without riding a piki-piki.  I was honest with Peace Corps staff upon my arrival in Korogwe about my need to ride on a motorcycle, and I hoped they would work for a solution.  The only forseeable solution is to transfer me to a different site.

My living room at Kainam Rhotia - fully furnished!

The school grounds at Kainam Rhotia

The details are still falling into place, but one week from today I will be on my way to my new home on the foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro.  My school is a private Lutheran secondary school called Uroki Secondary School.  The school has about 400 students, and is in desperate need of a Biology teacher.  While I am surprised by the turn of events, I look forward to meeting the challenge of acclimating to a new site. I was initially glum to leave my wonderful, small village in Kainam, but I have the opportunity to live through the excitement of seeing another new home.  My original placement was filled with many “zawadi,” or gifts – one of which was my incredibly sweet counterpart teacher who lived up to her name.  However, I look forward to feeling equally welcome in my new home and following other plans that God has made for me.

In A-Rush-a to get to site!

At the Site Announcement Ceremony

Site announcement day in Peace Corps is usually precluded by many sleepless nights. For me, the insomnia came after site announcements!

Our much-anticipated ceremony began after lunch on Wednesday. I followed the sound of African drums in to a clearing in which our ceremony would be held. A traditional dance troupe was in full swing, and some other volunteers and I joined them in celebrating the day with dance. Ribbons of sweat poured down my body - it was another sweltering "spring" day in Korogwe.

When the time finally came for the site reveals, our oldest volunteer was asked to approach the large Tanzanian map with push pins placed in almost every region. She uncovered one photo, introducing one volunteer to his home for the next two years. One by one, all of the faces on the map were uncovered. I waited many long minutes while the three regions I had "bid" for were filled with faces other than my own. Fifty-nine other names were read before mine (number 60 out of 61) was finally called. I had been placed in Arusha, a region I knew absolutely nothing about other than the Arusha bombings.

After my initial surprise and trepidation, and two extremely sleepless nights, I've truly become excited about my placement. My home is described by nearby volunteers as "in the bush" - and that means I have no running water or electricity. These will be huge adjustments for me, but I look forward to accepting the challenge! I should be able to overlook the famous Ngorongoro Crater National Park from my window, which means elephants, lions, and other animals will be my daily entertainment.

I will join 8 Tanzanian teachers at Kainam Rhotia Secondary School, where there are about 250 students currently.

The three other volunteers in the Arusha region and I are already on our way to our region: a crowded, "culturally enriching" bus ride. Our 2-day route will take us through the Kilimanjaro region.

I have to admit that I'm a bundle of nerves and excitement for the week ahead. Here we go!

Maranatha Gospel Choir!

The Maranatha Gospel Choir and myself on our last Sunday together.

On some Sundays, I have a special treat to look forward to after I finish scrubbing my clothes until my hands are raw.  A neighbor, Anthony, comes over to listen to me play the flute, and teaches me a few traditional Tanzanian tunes.  Anthony is also one of the leaders of the Maranatha Gospel Choir, one of two choirs at our Anglican Church.  The two choirs usually alternate songs, and the competition is tangible sometimes.  This, along with role-plays and the occasional consecration of a motorcycle, make mass a truly enjoyable way to spend half of my Sunday.  Two Sundays ago, Anthony told me that he wanted me to teach the choir a few English songs.

The following Tuesday, after I raced home from my classes, my host mom and I set out for the church together.  In Korogwe, sudden and deafening rains pour down multiple times per day.  They usually last for five to ten minutes, and then end abruptly as if they never existed.  The telltale puddles seep quickly into the parched ground, and rains remain a secret from those safe inside their homes.  We got caught in one of these flash downpours, and I stowed the large posters I had prepared for the choir under my skirt as we hurried through the downpour.

My first time standing in front of the choir was exceptionally intimidating.  When we entered, the choir director stood in the center of a circle of voices.  His attention, like a laser beam, focused on one member at a time.  With all eyes on the “kiti moto,” or hot-seat, he would instruct them to stretch their mouth over two fingers arranged vertically, then three, and then four.  With a four finger chamber with which to make sound, they were asked to create the deep, soulful resonance that is so common with African gospel choirs.  I was terrified that he would make me sit in the kiti moto.

When it was finally my turn to teach, I arranged my posters, and began singing for them, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…”  They sang back timidly to me.  During the rest of the week, I spent all of my free evenings with the choir.  By the end of the week, we were laughing, clapping and dancing along to the song.  I learned a few Kiswahili songs and dances, much to the amusement of all the children of the church.  The pastor was extremely pleased at the cultural exchange.  A few days later, I was conversing with him before a choir practice, and he mentioned how impressed he was with my progress in Kiswahili (cue internal victory dance!).

This week, I have been teaching the choir to sing, “Go, Tell it on the Mountain.”  Teaching English words to adults and children (three of them are actually my Form I students!) who have never spoken English is a challenge, but as a Peace Corps Trainee, my full-time job is to work to overcome challenges.  I have a Tanzanian friend from the local teachers’ college, Jaqlin, and she loves to come to our choir practice.  Together, we translate English words into Kiswahili.  Last week, as I was copying the lyrics onto a blackboard, we went through and added Kiswahili spellings of each and every English word.  While their pronunciations are not perfect, they sing in four-part harmony, and the resulting sound is pure joy.

I’ve mentioned this to a few people, but I feel substantially closer to my host family and many Tanzanians that I do to my peer Peace Corps Trainees.  For now, I guess this is helping me to integrate.  I cannot go anywhere in town without running into a mama or a babe from the choir who will inquire about every part of my life – and it’s wonderful to feel loved by so many.  The mommas love teaching me to sing and dance, as our voices and bodies move in harmony.  When we add keyboard music, guitars, and percussion, the energy in the room gets high.  During every musical interlude, all of the mamas, and most of the babas drop their hips and twist low to the ground.  At some point, they’ll  let out a rapid, high-pitched “LA-LA-LA-LA-LA” – anyone who has been to Tanzania knows it well.  At first, it feels strange to be doing all this in a House of God – but one quickly remembers that this is a brilliant way to praise God – with joyful hearts and a spring in one’s step.  My favorite song is a catchy, upbeat tune called, “Upendo,” which means love in Kiswahili.  Amid shaking of hips and joyful voices, we praise God in Kiswahili, English, and most of all, in the language of love.