Onions
Every so often - it's random as nearly as I can tell though I'm sure if you asked one of the Tanzanian teachers they would see a pattern - the school has a meeting on the dusty parade grounds. Teachers and staff sit on metal chairs under a large 'christmas tree' (so called because around Christmas they explode with brilliant red blossoms) and the students sit on chairs or grass wherever they can find shade. Of course the meeting always lasts so long that the shadows shift and after an hour or two they are in direct sunlight so there's a migration to the new shady spots which gives everyone a chance to stretch a bit.
One of the things we did was to announce the top three and bottom three students from each class. They were called to come and stand in front of the whole school and oddly enough the top three often looked as scared as the bottom three. Maybe there is some system where both ends get black-listed. Praise was awarded the good students and scorn heaped on the bad ones. A few actually refused to come forward and will probably receive a suspension for their obstinance. It was tedious.
We all introduced ourselves and one thing I have yet to understand is that the teachers who give students the most trouble often receive the most applause. Or maybe it just appears to be trouble to me. They may see it differently. One part that is always entertaining is when the school driver introduces himself. There was a broken truck when I arrived two years ago but these days the school has nothing in the way of a vehicle. Still they employ a driver. Or maybe he just hangs around because he has nowhere else to go.
It was announced that there would be no more beating of students with sticks. This drew mostly smirks as everyone knows quite well that within a day - two at the most - somebody is gonna catch a lickin'. If fact I happened two walk into a teacher meeting one day (these things are announced about 15 minutes before they happen...this works with email but the announcement is written on a chalk board in the staff room) where we were passionately admonished not to beat students. It was noted yesterday that by adhering to our new, non-violent, policy we would now be operating 'in accordance with the law of Tanzania'. Somehow.
Last week I heard a knock at the door and there was a guy in a three wheeled wheelchair on my front step. He had started talking to me in town one day while I was watching the sky turn pink over the water at sunset and had decided to wheel himself the 8km from town to the school. He wanted to start a business. The government office told him he needed to get five people to sign to get a loan and the other lame people he knew prefered to depend on handouts so that fell through. Then he went to the church and they gave him a new tricycle (the original one was destroyed when he was struck by a car...this would be a windfall in America as the driver's insurance would probably put up a couple million dollars but here the driver just ran away...I think he got several operations free at the government hospital but he said he's still in a lot of pain). But his application for a loan is evidently still being processed in Denmark. The discussion soon became tedious. He assured me he was honest and had a business plan (they always do) but eventually he just started saying 'I'm lame, help me'. This would have gone on all day. He literally told me his story at least five times. The problem is that many Americans use argue with reasons and Tanzanians argue with emotion. We just don't communicate with each other. I did give him a push up the shallow incline to the main road which seemed to amuse some of the young guys who are always sitting at the corner.
Later that day I was talking with two students about an business project that a previous Peace Corps volunteer had set up. They seemed to think it was valuable and felt it was unfortunate that other students wouldn't get to take this class. I suggested that everything was in place, there was no reason the project couldn't go on without the American volunteer. They looked at me like the naive white man I am and one said 'you know sir, these Africans work hard when there's white people around, but when you're gone they don't do anything.'
Also, I absolutely weep every time I cut onions. I thought I would get used to it, but the tears just flow. I don't know, I've read that crying is emotionally healthy so maybe I'm getting some benefit out of it.
One of the things we did was to announce the top three and bottom three students from each class. They were called to come and stand in front of the whole school and oddly enough the top three often looked as scared as the bottom three. Maybe there is some system where both ends get black-listed. Praise was awarded the good students and scorn heaped on the bad ones. A few actually refused to come forward and will probably receive a suspension for their obstinance. It was tedious.
We all introduced ourselves and one thing I have yet to understand is that the teachers who give students the most trouble often receive the most applause. Or maybe it just appears to be trouble to me. They may see it differently. One part that is always entertaining is when the school driver introduces himself. There was a broken truck when I arrived two years ago but these days the school has nothing in the way of a vehicle. Still they employ a driver. Or maybe he just hangs around because he has nowhere else to go.
It was announced that there would be no more beating of students with sticks. This drew mostly smirks as everyone knows quite well that within a day - two at the most - somebody is gonna catch a lickin'. If fact I happened two walk into a teacher meeting one day (these things are announced about 15 minutes before they happen...this works with email but the announcement is written on a chalk board in the staff room) where we were passionately admonished not to beat students. It was noted yesterday that by adhering to our new, non-violent, policy we would now be operating 'in accordance with the law of Tanzania'. Somehow.
Last week I heard a knock at the door and there was a guy in a three wheeled wheelchair on my front step. He had started talking to me in town one day while I was watching the sky turn pink over the water at sunset and had decided to wheel himself the 8km from town to the school. He wanted to start a business. The government office told him he needed to get five people to sign to get a loan and the other lame people he knew prefered to depend on handouts so that fell through. Then he went to the church and they gave him a new tricycle (the original one was destroyed when he was struck by a car...this would be a windfall in America as the driver's insurance would probably put up a couple million dollars but here the driver just ran away...I think he got several operations free at the government hospital but he said he's still in a lot of pain). But his application for a loan is evidently still being processed in Denmark. The discussion soon became tedious. He assured me he was honest and had a business plan (they always do) but eventually he just started saying 'I'm lame, help me'. This would have gone on all day. He literally told me his story at least five times. The problem is that many Americans use argue with reasons and Tanzanians argue with emotion. We just don't communicate with each other. I did give him a push up the shallow incline to the main road which seemed to amuse some of the young guys who are always sitting at the corner.
Later that day I was talking with two students about an business project that a previous Peace Corps volunteer had set up. They seemed to think it was valuable and felt it was unfortunate that other students wouldn't get to take this class. I suggested that everything was in place, there was no reason the project couldn't go on without the American volunteer. They looked at me like the naive white man I am and one said 'you know sir, these Africans work hard when there's white people around, but when you're gone they don't do anything.'
Also, I absolutely weep every time I cut onions. I thought I would get used to it, but the tears just flow. I don't know, I've read that crying is emotionally healthy so maybe I'm getting some benefit out of it.
posted by Ryan Kadow at 10:00 AM
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