Back in Kitete! After 15 days of living from my backpack, I have returned to St. Brendan's. It is nice to breath the crisp, clean air again; the cities were dusty and smoggy. We were missed by the priests and Marietta. With such a warm welcome last night, it felt like coming home. It makes me excited for my next homecoming in North Branch on Tuesday. Five more days!
The past two weeks were unbelievable. Zanzibar was paradise. Kenya was amazing. I met saintly people. The hospitality was second to none. I have many stories to share. However, since I only have a few more days in Tanzania, I think I will continue my blog after I get home.
And yes, I did get to swim with the dolphins (could've done without the jellyfish, though).
A lot to do before heading to the ariport Monday night!
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Ever Elusive Elephants
It’s been another great week in Kitete. I will admit, however, that it was a pretty lonely week. The students really are the life of this parish, and there hasn’t been any volleyball since last Friday. Sometimes I go outside and sit on the steps of the male dormitory (or their self-proclaimed “ghetto”) to do some reading and thinking. It’s a good place to soak in some afternoon sun, but it is too quiet now. I still can’t believe that 12 guys live in those two little rooms. I really don’t think “live” is the correct verb to use. The rooms are small and stuffy. There is only room for three bunks in each room. No closets. No desks. No running water. I believe there are plans for a new dorm after money has been raised. Fr. David looks over the school, but he has been on a tour of Europe. I haven’t met him yet. Charlie and I will meet with him before we leave to talk about the future of the school. I have been looking forward to that meeting for quite a while.
Tuesday saw an all-day trip to Moshi to attend the funeral of Fr. Andrew’s father. The priests here were asked to celebrate the Mass. They went to school and are good friends with Fr. Andrew. The funeral was well attended, and the church was packed. I felt a little out of place at the Mass. I have gotten used to people staring at me, especially the children, but here it seemed like almost too much. There were photographers at the funeral, and they took special effort to take a picture of me and Charlie. I seem to be a distraction at most Masses that I attend outside of St. Brendan’s. Here at St. Brendan’s I have become a “regular.” I like this.
Following the Mass we walked through a forest of banana trees to the home of Fr. Andrew’s father for the burial. The tone of the day changed dramatically here. There was desperate crying and wailing by the family as the casket was carried into the courtyard and placed into the ground, but after the cement was poured, a party commenced. I thought I was at a wedding reception with all the catered food and drinks and tents and balloons. There was even live music. Many men from the Congregation of Holy Cross attended the funeral, and they were ushered to the food line first. I think I ate before some of the grieving family. So many people attended that they eventually ran out of food. I have never seen people so frantic and violent trying to get food. There were men in military uniform holding people outside the gates of the home. Should I have had any food at all?
The city of Moshi is right next to Mt. Kilimanjaro. It was a cloudy day, but I saw the base of the mountain as we drove toward the city. During the post-funeral celebration the clouds cleared and I saw the snow-covered top of the mountain above the trees for about five minutes. That’s about all of the mountain that I will get to see here. I researched a climbing trip, and even after the “we’re-Notre-Dame-students-who-are-friends-of-a-friend” discount, Charlie and I can’t afford the excursion. I’m not too disappointed, though.
Even though Kilimanjaro will only remain a mountain in the distance, I feel like I have been climbing a different mountain this past week. Not being in the classroom anymore, I have had a lot of time to do some reading and reflecting and journaling. Being not of much use here, I have been thinking about how I will be of use after I get home. I keep asking myself how nine weeks in Tanzania will change my life and actions. Can nine weeks even do that? I have filled many pages in my journal on this topic alone. I will have to live in light of what I have seen and learned while being here. I can’t pretend like these two months never happened. Changes in attitude and spirit have occurred (I think), but how does that translate into life back home? It’s been a gift to have a lot of quiet time lately to battle these questions about solidarity and charity, religion and consumerism. Unfortunately, I think I will be leaving here with many more questions than answers. I’m ok with that, though. Questions always come before answers. Scaling this mountain will be more triumphant than ever reaching the top of Kilimanjaro.
I’m sorry to subject you to these personal things, but they really have been eating at me. (I’m not sure if I feel more charged for action or just simply frustrated right now.) Through my daily journaling, I have learned that writing about these things helps a lot.
I sat with some little girls outside on the steps in the sun. They knew a little English, so we were able to say hello. After that, we just sat there together in silence. It is discouraging to see how thin their arms and legs were. Their clothing was dirty and ragged. Just sitting there with them was the best part of my day. They hid their faces from me. This is a common act of modesty. We spent a considerable time just sitting there enjoying the sun together. After they walked away, the youngest one turned around and gave me a big smile. This is was solidarity looks like today. I wonder what it will look like months from now.
The water works again. I found out why the water stopped running for a few days. Elephants busted some underground pipes near the well. The elephants have proved to be very elusive. I can’t believe elephants are literally in our backyard and I haven’t seen one here yet. (I’ve only seen them while on safari.) We went on an elephant hunt yesterday afternoon after visiting the dispensary in Lostete. We parked the Land Cruiser on the top of a hill overlooking a known elephant path to a water hole. We were told by the locals in the vehicle with us that they make this trip each evening. We sat there until it got too dark to see anything. No elephants. However, when we turned on the lights of the Cruiser, I saw a pair of eyes glowing down the path from us. I couldn’t make out what kind of animal it was, but the villagers in the vehicle with us started yelling “Chui! Chui!” That means leopard in Swahili! We even saw a few large owls on the drive back.
Charlie and I have finally “finalized” our travel plans. We leave early tomorrow morning for Dar es Salaam. We have plans to visit Iringa and Zanzibar as well. We have also added Nairobi to our itinerary. We have been invited and have made arrangements to stay at the Holy Cross Formation House there. Nairobi is basically the New York City of the area. It would be pretty daunting to just go there on our own, but we will be picked up from the bus stop and taken care of by the priests and seminarians who live there.
Charlie and I will spend time enjoying ourselves on the beaches, but this isn’t supposed to be just a vacation (we still hope to see the dolphins!). We have plans to visit some NGO’s and other volunteer organizations while we are away. We hope that our trip will be both educational and enjoyable. We want to know more about the people here in Tanzania and how the Holy Cross community operates in East Africa. I found this passage while reading some Thomas Merton, and his words will be our theme for our remaining three weeks here: “A certain depth of disciplined experience is a necessary ground for fruitful action. Without a more profound human understanding derived from exploration of the inner ground of human existence, love will tend to be superficial and deceptive.”
Our physical and active “experience” is different from what he is talking about (meditation, contemplation), but the quote still works for me. Please keep us in your prayers as we experience more of East Africa. I have been looking forward to traveling for a long time.
Tuesday saw an all-day trip to Moshi to attend the funeral of Fr. Andrew’s father. The priests here were asked to celebrate the Mass. They went to school and are good friends with Fr. Andrew. The funeral was well attended, and the church was packed. I felt a little out of place at the Mass. I have gotten used to people staring at me, especially the children, but here it seemed like almost too much. There were photographers at the funeral, and they took special effort to take a picture of me and Charlie. I seem to be a distraction at most Masses that I attend outside of St. Brendan’s. Here at St. Brendan’s I have become a “regular.” I like this.
Following the Mass we walked through a forest of banana trees to the home of Fr. Andrew’s father for the burial. The tone of the day changed dramatically here. There was desperate crying and wailing by the family as the casket was carried into the courtyard and placed into the ground, but after the cement was poured, a party commenced. I thought I was at a wedding reception with all the catered food and drinks and tents and balloons. There was even live music. Many men from the Congregation of Holy Cross attended the funeral, and they were ushered to the food line first. I think I ate before some of the grieving family. So many people attended that they eventually ran out of food. I have never seen people so frantic and violent trying to get food. There were men in military uniform holding people outside the gates of the home. Should I have had any food at all?
The city of Moshi is right next to Mt. Kilimanjaro. It was a cloudy day, but I saw the base of the mountain as we drove toward the city. During the post-funeral celebration the clouds cleared and I saw the snow-covered top of the mountain above the trees for about five minutes. That’s about all of the mountain that I will get to see here. I researched a climbing trip, and even after the “we’re-Notre-Dame-students-who-are-friends-of-a-friend” discount, Charlie and I can’t afford the excursion. I’m not too disappointed, though.
Even though Kilimanjaro will only remain a mountain in the distance, I feel like I have been climbing a different mountain this past week. Not being in the classroom anymore, I have had a lot of time to do some reading and reflecting and journaling. Being not of much use here, I have been thinking about how I will be of use after I get home. I keep asking myself how nine weeks in Tanzania will change my life and actions. Can nine weeks even do that? I have filled many pages in my journal on this topic alone. I will have to live in light of what I have seen and learned while being here. I can’t pretend like these two months never happened. Changes in attitude and spirit have occurred (I think), but how does that translate into life back home? It’s been a gift to have a lot of quiet time lately to battle these questions about solidarity and charity, religion and consumerism. Unfortunately, I think I will be leaving here with many more questions than answers. I’m ok with that, though. Questions always come before answers. Scaling this mountain will be more triumphant than ever reaching the top of Kilimanjaro.
I’m sorry to subject you to these personal things, but they really have been eating at me. (I’m not sure if I feel more charged for action or just simply frustrated right now.) Through my daily journaling, I have learned that writing about these things helps a lot.
I sat with some little girls outside on the steps in the sun. They knew a little English, so we were able to say hello. After that, we just sat there together in silence. It is discouraging to see how thin their arms and legs were. Their clothing was dirty and ragged. Just sitting there with them was the best part of my day. They hid their faces from me. This is a common act of modesty. We spent a considerable time just sitting there enjoying the sun together. After they walked away, the youngest one turned around and gave me a big smile. This is was solidarity looks like today. I wonder what it will look like months from now.
The water works again. I found out why the water stopped running for a few days. Elephants busted some underground pipes near the well. The elephants have proved to be very elusive. I can’t believe elephants are literally in our backyard and I haven’t seen one here yet. (I’ve only seen them while on safari.) We went on an elephant hunt yesterday afternoon after visiting the dispensary in Lostete. We parked the Land Cruiser on the top of a hill overlooking a known elephant path to a water hole. We were told by the locals in the vehicle with us that they make this trip each evening. We sat there until it got too dark to see anything. No elephants. However, when we turned on the lights of the Cruiser, I saw a pair of eyes glowing down the path from us. I couldn’t make out what kind of animal it was, but the villagers in the vehicle with us started yelling “Chui! Chui!” That means leopard in Swahili! We even saw a few large owls on the drive back.
Charlie and I have finally “finalized” our travel plans. We leave early tomorrow morning for Dar es Salaam. We have plans to visit Iringa and Zanzibar as well. We have also added Nairobi to our itinerary. We have been invited and have made arrangements to stay at the Holy Cross Formation House there. Nairobi is basically the New York City of the area. It would be pretty daunting to just go there on our own, but we will be picked up from the bus stop and taken care of by the priests and seminarians who live there.
Charlie and I will spend time enjoying ourselves on the beaches, but this isn’t supposed to be just a vacation (we still hope to see the dolphins!). We have plans to visit some NGO’s and other volunteer organizations while we are away. We hope that our trip will be both educational and enjoyable. We want to know more about the people here in Tanzania and how the Holy Cross community operates in East Africa. I found this passage while reading some Thomas Merton, and his words will be our theme for our remaining three weeks here: “A certain depth of disciplined experience is a necessary ground for fruitful action. Without a more profound human understanding derived from exploration of the inner ground of human existence, love will tend to be superficial and deceptive.”
Our physical and active “experience” is different from what he is talking about (meditation, contemplation), but the quote still works for me. Please keep us in your prayers as we experience more of East Africa. I have been looking forward to traveling for a long time.
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Last Lesson
This is a long post. If you don’t wish to read it all (I wouldn’t blame you), please at least read the letter at the bottom and the few paragraphs that precede it.
It’s a chilly, foggy, and misty Monday morning. I just finished a nice cup of coffee and two pieces of banana cake. I’m wrapped in my shuka to keep warm. The cold (or cooler) season came suddenly and without much warning. The mornings and evenings require sweatshirts and shukas to stay comfortable. The priests wear stocking caps at the dinner table. Out of stubbornness I still wear my shorts. If the calendar says June, I say shorts. I sleep under two heavy blankets and my shuka. The wind picks up some nights, and it’s not hard to imagine a blizzard outside as I climb into bed. It really isn’t that bad, though. The days are still pleasant when the sun shines.
Last night the water stopped running in the house. Water is being carried in from large collection tanks outside for cooking and washing. It rained Saturday night. We are in the dry season, so it has rained only a few times since I have been here. Of course my clothes would still be hanging out on the line to receive the complementary second washing. Hopefully the sun will come out this afternoon to dry them.
I taught my last class on Wednesday afternoon. All of Thursday and Friday morning were set aside for exams. I enjoyed putting together the tests, but it took a lot of time for Charlie and me to go through them all and mark them. Writing exams and grading them takes a lot more time and effort than preparing a lesson plan for a day! We could have used a couple TA’s.
As I graded some geometry problems Thursday night, it was very clear that a handful of 2nd year students had been copying answers during the test. One student made a simple calculation error, and his wrong answer showed up on about six other tests. I looked over and compared their tests very carefully. Some of these students didn’t show any work at all. Charlie had noticed there was some similar cheating going on during his English exam. I wish I could have stopped it during the exam, but I didn’t even notice it because I was giving individual help at the front of class during the entire test.
Charlie and I were put in a tough situation. Not only were these our students, but they were also our good friends, and Friday was going to be our last day together. Could we actually be angry with them? Do we report it to the disciplinarian? (We suspect that they still practice corporal punishment here although we haven’t witnessed it.) We may have been done teaching, but we knew that there was one more lesson to teach.
There was an assembly Friday afternoon for all of the students to attend. It was first an open forum where students got to voice their opinions and suggestions concerning the school. There were complaints about the housing and food. Others were more concerned about the disrespect between students. This lasted for probably more than an hour. It was welcoming to see the other teachers and staff listening to the students. They really seem to have a voice here. Next came awards and recognitions for those who performed well during the term. Those at the top of the class received notebooks and pencils as their award. Finally, Charlie and I were asked if we had anything to add before the assembly was released.
Everybody was in a good mood, and we didn’t want to end the assembly on a sour note, but Charlie and I knew it was necessary. I spoke on behalf of both of us. I told them that we knew there had been cheating on the exams and that we were really disappointed and felt betrayed. I’m no great orator, but I spoke about character and values and honesty. I said that those who were suspected of cheating were given a failing grade on the exam. I also said that Charlie and I would appreciate a private apology from anyone who had cheated whether it was caught or not. I may have killed the party, but I possibly gave the only lesson that they will take to heart.
Thankfully, the real party came that afternoon. There was a big end-of-the-year lunch and celebration for the closing of the school. It was also a farewell party for Charlie and me. (The students are actually the ones leaving. Charlie and I still have a month left at the school and parish. They go home for what is basically their “winter” break. They return late in July. We may or may not see them before we have to leave for our homes.) We sat at the decorated head table. The meal was superb: rice, lamb, beans, cabbage, bananas, and soda. There was enough for everyone. Following the meal a large group of students walked up to the table. They delegated a speaker and gave a very nice apology for cheating on the exams. They asked what their punishment should be. We told them no punishment. A failing grade and a promise to consider honesty would be enough. We shook hands to seal the deal.
There was a short comedy skit, and singing and dancing. The lyrics to the song went something like “we are so sorry, so sorry to have to say goodbye.” This was followed by the reading of a letter (printed below) to me and Charlie. I have the copy of the letter, and it reads almost like poetry. I even appreciate the grammar and spelling mistakes even though I was their English teacher for three weeks. Next came a surprise gift. The girls sewed us some pretty sweet purple shirts. They are short-sleeved button-downs. We put them on right away and took pictures with our friends. My shirt has an outline of the African continent on it. (Very appropriate.) Charlie’s has black bunnies. (Quite random.) We are still laughing about the bunnies.
Friday evening volleyball pitted the staff against the students. We played until we couldn’t see the ball anymore. If the sun wasn’t in such a hurry to make another dawn, we could have played for hours more. There were some final goodbyes with our closest friends on the court after all the others left for dinner. Nobody was in a hurry to part ways. I don’t think anybody was ready to admit that it was time to say goodbye. Didn’t we just say hello?
So, what comes next? First, some rest and relaxation. Charlie and I watched a movie, popped some popcorn, and shared a cold beer Friday night. We agreed that sleeping in Saturday had been earned. We have more time now to spend with the priests as they travel around to the other small villages to hold meetings and say Mass. They have also agreed to take us to the Ngorongoro Crater for a safari. It’s one of the few places where we might see a rhino, and our chances of seeing a lion or two are best here. The crater has the densest population of lions in the world. However, the population is in some danger because of the lack of genetic diversity.
We also plan on doing a little traveling throughout the country. We want to visit Dar es Salaam and the island Zanzibar. Of course a trip to Moshi to see Mt. Kilimanjaro is in place. (Whether or not we climb it is still up in the air. We have a connection with a climbing company through an ND grad who lives in Arusha. If we can afford the climb, we’re going to do it.) We have been doing some research on bus routes and hotels. I have received an invitation to celebrate Independence Day at the American Embassy in Dar es Salaam on the 5th. They promise free food and fireworks for all US citizens. We won’t turn down free food. A few Notre Dame students serving in Uganda this summer have expressed interest in meeting up with us in Zanzibar. The weather should be very nice and warm on the east coast. Our plans are to spend a lot of time on the white sand beaches of the Indian Ocean. We’ll take a book or two and our swim trunks so we can swim with the dolphins.
Keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we round the hill and begin the 2nd half of our nine weeks here. There are internet cafes in Dar, so I will post a few quick blogs during our trip if time and money permit. Happy Father’s Day to my dad! Happy Birthday to my Grandma Schank on the 27th! Grandma, I hope you enjoy the camping/ b-day part this weekend. Congrats to my cousin Justin who celebrates his high school graduation this weekend, too. Also congrats to my cousin Maria who also is celebrating her graduation this summer. I wish I could be there to help celebrate with everyone. I can’t wait to see you all in July. I send my love from Tanzania.
And lastly, as promised, here is the letter read to us at the farewell party without any editing on my part. You can blame all the spelling and grammar mistakes on their English teacher.
It’s a chilly, foggy, and misty Monday morning. I just finished a nice cup of coffee and two pieces of banana cake. I’m wrapped in my shuka to keep warm. The cold (or cooler) season came suddenly and without much warning. The mornings and evenings require sweatshirts and shukas to stay comfortable. The priests wear stocking caps at the dinner table. Out of stubbornness I still wear my shorts. If the calendar says June, I say shorts. I sleep under two heavy blankets and my shuka. The wind picks up some nights, and it’s not hard to imagine a blizzard outside as I climb into bed. It really isn’t that bad, though. The days are still pleasant when the sun shines.
Last night the water stopped running in the house. Water is being carried in from large collection tanks outside for cooking and washing. It rained Saturday night. We are in the dry season, so it has rained only a few times since I have been here. Of course my clothes would still be hanging out on the line to receive the complementary second washing. Hopefully the sun will come out this afternoon to dry them.
I taught my last class on Wednesday afternoon. All of Thursday and Friday morning were set aside for exams. I enjoyed putting together the tests, but it took a lot of time for Charlie and me to go through them all and mark them. Writing exams and grading them takes a lot more time and effort than preparing a lesson plan for a day! We could have used a couple TA’s.
As I graded some geometry problems Thursday night, it was very clear that a handful of 2nd year students had been copying answers during the test. One student made a simple calculation error, and his wrong answer showed up on about six other tests. I looked over and compared their tests very carefully. Some of these students didn’t show any work at all. Charlie had noticed there was some similar cheating going on during his English exam. I wish I could have stopped it during the exam, but I didn’t even notice it because I was giving individual help at the front of class during the entire test.
Charlie and I were put in a tough situation. Not only were these our students, but they were also our good friends, and Friday was going to be our last day together. Could we actually be angry with them? Do we report it to the disciplinarian? (We suspect that they still practice corporal punishment here although we haven’t witnessed it.) We may have been done teaching, but we knew that there was one more lesson to teach.
There was an assembly Friday afternoon for all of the students to attend. It was first an open forum where students got to voice their opinions and suggestions concerning the school. There were complaints about the housing and food. Others were more concerned about the disrespect between students. This lasted for probably more than an hour. It was welcoming to see the other teachers and staff listening to the students. They really seem to have a voice here. Next came awards and recognitions for those who performed well during the term. Those at the top of the class received notebooks and pencils as their award. Finally, Charlie and I were asked if we had anything to add before the assembly was released.
Everybody was in a good mood, and we didn’t want to end the assembly on a sour note, but Charlie and I knew it was necessary. I spoke on behalf of both of us. I told them that we knew there had been cheating on the exams and that we were really disappointed and felt betrayed. I’m no great orator, but I spoke about character and values and honesty. I said that those who were suspected of cheating were given a failing grade on the exam. I also said that Charlie and I would appreciate a private apology from anyone who had cheated whether it was caught or not. I may have killed the party, but I possibly gave the only lesson that they will take to heart.
Thankfully, the real party came that afternoon. There was a big end-of-the-year lunch and celebration for the closing of the school. It was also a farewell party for Charlie and me. (The students are actually the ones leaving. Charlie and I still have a month left at the school and parish. They go home for what is basically their “winter” break. They return late in July. We may or may not see them before we have to leave for our homes.) We sat at the decorated head table. The meal was superb: rice, lamb, beans, cabbage, bananas, and soda. There was enough for everyone. Following the meal a large group of students walked up to the table. They delegated a speaker and gave a very nice apology for cheating on the exams. They asked what their punishment should be. We told them no punishment. A failing grade and a promise to consider honesty would be enough. We shook hands to seal the deal.
There was a short comedy skit, and singing and dancing. The lyrics to the song went something like “we are so sorry, so sorry to have to say goodbye.” This was followed by the reading of a letter (printed below) to me and Charlie. I have the copy of the letter, and it reads almost like poetry. I even appreciate the grammar and spelling mistakes even though I was their English teacher for three weeks. Next came a surprise gift. The girls sewed us some pretty sweet purple shirts. They are short-sleeved button-downs. We put them on right away and took pictures with our friends. My shirt has an outline of the African continent on it. (Very appropriate.) Charlie’s has black bunnies. (Quite random.) We are still laughing about the bunnies.
Friday evening volleyball pitted the staff against the students. We played until we couldn’t see the ball anymore. If the sun wasn’t in such a hurry to make another dawn, we could have played for hours more. There were some final goodbyes with our closest friends on the court after all the others left for dinner. Nobody was in a hurry to part ways. I don’t think anybody was ready to admit that it was time to say goodbye. Didn’t we just say hello?
So, what comes next? First, some rest and relaxation. Charlie and I watched a movie, popped some popcorn, and shared a cold beer Friday night. We agreed that sleeping in Saturday had been earned. We have more time now to spend with the priests as they travel around to the other small villages to hold meetings and say Mass. They have also agreed to take us to the Ngorongoro Crater for a safari. It’s one of the few places where we might see a rhino, and our chances of seeing a lion or two are best here. The crater has the densest population of lions in the world. However, the population is in some danger because of the lack of genetic diversity.
We also plan on doing a little traveling throughout the country. We want to visit Dar es Salaam and the island Zanzibar. Of course a trip to Moshi to see Mt. Kilimanjaro is in place. (Whether or not we climb it is still up in the air. We have a connection with a climbing company through an ND grad who lives in Arusha. If we can afford the climb, we’re going to do it.) We have been doing some research on bus routes and hotels. I have received an invitation to celebrate Independence Day at the American Embassy in Dar es Salaam on the 5th. They promise free food and fireworks for all US citizens. We won’t turn down free food. A few Notre Dame students serving in Uganda this summer have expressed interest in meeting up with us in Zanzibar. The weather should be very nice and warm on the east coast. Our plans are to spend a lot of time on the white sand beaches of the Indian Ocean. We’ll take a book or two and our swim trunks so we can swim with the dolphins.
Keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we round the hill and begin the 2nd half of our nine weeks here. There are internet cafes in Dar, so I will post a few quick blogs during our trip if time and money permit. Happy Father’s Day to my dad! Happy Birthday to my Grandma Schank on the 27th! Grandma, I hope you enjoy the camping/ b-day part this weekend. Congrats to my cousin Justin who celebrates his high school graduation this weekend, too. Also congrats to my cousin Maria who also is celebrating her graduation this summer. I wish I could be there to help celebrate with everyone. I can’t wait to see you all in July. I send my love from Tanzania.
And lastly, as promised, here is the letter read to us at the farewell party without any editing on my part. You can blame all the spelling and grammar mistakes on their English teacher.
“We shall meet one day”
For both of us, and our audience.
We stay infront of you, to say something
About learning, and teaching activities
We hope that, you will remember once you hear
Our volonteers taugh us
Mathematics, English and Computer
For the duration, of three weeks
Since you approach, Audrey Veldman
We understood you, in deep
And we promise you, to work on it.
Since we leant, we acquire knowledge
And we will use, in different opportunities of life
According to the situation, of our environment
You try to cope, and taught us in simple way
We thanks, for your cooperation
Where, we will imitate you.
As untensils, colide each other in the Cupboard
Even us, we might do for you
As far, we ask, lets forgive each other
America and Africa are the Son of one Father
Today we left each other, by say goodby
And God be with you
Lets your jounery, look like the Shine Star, in the sky
Don’t forget us, when you reach America.
For both of us, and our audience.
We stay infront of you, to say something
About learning, and teaching activities
We hope that, you will remember once you hear
Our volonteers taugh us
Mathematics, English and Computer
For the duration, of three weeks
Since you approach, Audrey Veldman
We understood you, in deep
And we promise you, to work on it.
Since we leant, we acquire knowledge
And we will use, in different opportunities of life
According to the situation, of our environment
You try to cope, and taught us in simple way
We thanks, for your cooperation
Where, we will imitate you.
As untensils, colide each other in the Cupboard
Even us, we might do for you
As far, we ask, lets forgive each other
America and Africa are the Son of one Father
Today we left each other, by say goodby
And God be with you
Lets your jounery, look like the Shine Star, in the sky
Don’t forget us, when you reach America.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Thanks, Mom, For Letting Me Go
In 1842, Fr. Edward Sorin, a young priest from France, was given 640 acres in Northern Indiana to start a school. In a letter to his superior, now Blessed Basil Moreau, he had the audacity to write:
“…This college cannot fail to succeed…Before long, it will develop on a large scale…It will be the most powerful means for good in this country.” (December 5th, 1842)
My friends say that I am a pretty sentimental guy, and I’ll easily admit to it. Today, the 16th of June, I celebrate a pretty special anniversary. Exactly six years ago was the first time I stepped foot on the campus of Notre Dame. I was invited by my friend Erica to attend a summer camp with her and some other friends. We were dropped off at Library Circle, and I will never forget walking through the library and out into the courtyard and seeing Touchdown Jesus for the first time.
I was only supposed to be there for five days.
I can now say that I have never left; no matter where life takes me, I will never leave Notre Dame, and Notre Dame will never leave me. I will live my life differently because of Notre Dame. I have learned how to live here, but you’ll never find a course called “Life” listed on my transcript. I will, however, one day be “graded,” but it will not affect my GPA at all. I think it’s either a pass or fail.
I will forever be grateful for what ND has given me. I will be indebted to that Lady covered in gold on top of the Dome until the day I die. Thank you, Mary, for watching over us from your place in the sky. Our university proudly bears your name and would be nothing without your intercession and care. May our lives always be examples of the love of Christ, your Son.
I almost didn’t go. The camp was only five days long, but my mom had her reservations. Could she let her son loose on a university campus and trust the supervision of college students for a week? It took some convincing, but I was finally granted her permission.
Thanks, mom, for letting me go.
“…This college cannot fail to succeed…Before long, it will develop on a large scale…It will be the most powerful means for good in this country.” (December 5th, 1842)
My friends say that I am a pretty sentimental guy, and I’ll easily admit to it. Today, the 16th of June, I celebrate a pretty special anniversary. Exactly six years ago was the first time I stepped foot on the campus of Notre Dame. I was invited by my friend Erica to attend a summer camp with her and some other friends. We were dropped off at Library Circle, and I will never forget walking through the library and out into the courtyard and seeing Touchdown Jesus for the first time.
I was only supposed to be there for five days.
I can now say that I have never left; no matter where life takes me, I will never leave Notre Dame, and Notre Dame will never leave me. I will live my life differently because of Notre Dame. I have learned how to live here, but you’ll never find a course called “Life” listed on my transcript. I will, however, one day be “graded,” but it will not affect my GPA at all. I think it’s either a pass or fail.
I will forever be grateful for what ND has given me. I will be indebted to that Lady covered in gold on top of the Dome until the day I die. Thank you, Mary, for watching over us from your place in the sky. Our university proudly bears your name and would be nothing without your intercession and care. May our lives always be examples of the love of Christ, your Son.
I almost didn’t go. The camp was only five days long, but my mom had her reservations. Could she let her son loose on a university campus and trust the supervision of college students for a week? It took some convincing, but I was finally granted her permission.
Thanks, mom, for letting me go.
The Celebration of Mwili wa Kristu (The Body of Christ)
Friday marked the end of another great week of classes. I feel like I’m finally teaching and the students are finally learning. I walked into class a few minutes early and some of the older students were working problems on the board. I taught them earlier in the week how to find the volume of cylinders. They were practicing using the equation pi x r^2 x h on their own. These students are highly motivated and get excited about learning. That makes for one happy teacher.
For my afternoon class I shared pictures of my home, family, farm, friends, and Notre Dame. I also had some pictures from some of my travels in Europe. They are pretty fascinated with life in America and ask a lot of questions. I have been asked about my wife many times. They also want to know what tribe I come from.
Much of the fresh produce that the priests eat here are gifts from the villagers offered at Mass. They take seriously the idea that the first fruits are to be given to God. The line at offertory is always long. No plate is passed. Everybody walks up to the altar. If you have money to give, there is a box up front. If you have eggs, corn, pumpkins, cucumbers, beans, tomatoes, or onions, those are set at the foot of the altar. If your gift has four legs or wings, it too is brought up to the altar for a blessing by Father.
I enjoy helping Marietta, out cook, prepare lunch or dinner. She enjoys the company. Her English is pretty good, so she has been teaching me some Swahili. She lets Charlie and me be creative in the kitchen. Taking a pumpkin that was given at Mass, Charlie made a pumpkin cake and pumpkin soup. I took the seeds, salted them, and baked them. The priests were especially impressed with the pumpkin soup, which was served for dinner last night.
To celebrate the end of the week, Charlie and I prepared a fire outside. We gathered wood and dead branches and lit the fire as soon as the sun set, which was around 7:00pm. We invited the students to sit with us. We had a great night of joking and laughing and sharing. Charlie shared his pumpkin cake, and I passed around the pumpkin seeds that were still warm from the oven. Our friends expressed their desire to travel to America and see our homes and families. Charlie and I were told that we were going to be missed when we leave. I hope we have more nights like this before the students leave for holiday.
We woke up early on Saturday for 7:30am Mass. After a quick breakfast Charlie and I set off with Christopher and Rueben to visit Rueben’s family in Lostete. This walk was the longest yet- about 16 km I was told. We saw elephant trails along the way and fresh elephant tracks in the dust. Elephants are around, and I know that I will see one in the backyard before I leave. Being such large animals, I don’t know how they hide so well. We climbed up and slid down some steep hills, scaled large rocks, and hopped across streams. These hikes are not walks in the park!
After dodging several downhill-running donkeys, we finally arrived at the home of Rueben. We were ushered into a hut where we were given tea and cobs of corn to eat. It felt nice to sit and rest in the shade. As we sat there, goats and chickens ran around outside the door. Rueben’s family lives in four little huts that are surrounded by a fence. The huts and fence are made entirely out of natural materials (sticks, straw, and mud), and all the floors are dirt. The huts are impressively built, but they are n0t too big. I had to squeeze and duck to get in the doors. We were given a tour of each hut and the fields that surround the home. There is no electricity at all out there. All the cooking is done over a fire pit.
After the tour, Rueben indicated that he wanted to give Charlie and me gifts. We tried to kindly refuse, but we soon realized that “no thank you” was going to get us nowhere. Plus, we knew it would seem rude not to graciously accept the gifts. First, we were given small, wooden clubs that were hand-carved and painted black. Next, Rueben’s mother presented us with wrist cuffs that she made with hundreds of little white beads and pieces of bone. Then she gave us each a neckpiece that was also made by her. Mine has a leather base and is decorated with many different colored beads and seeds. It is very intricate, and I can tell that a lot of time was put into it. Rueben’s family comes from the Maasai tribe, and these are traditional pieces of jewelry. We later learned from Fr. Comfort that these pieces are presented to a woman before a marriage can take place. He said that they are very valuable and highly sought after.
On our way home, we stopped at the home of another student named Kiba. Again we were seated for tea. We didn’t stay too long, but once more we were presented with a gift. Kiba’s mother gave us a plump hen. I carried that chicken under my arm from Kiba’s home to an out station where Fr. Comfort was saying Mass that afternoon. We gladly accepted a ride back to Kitete with him, chicken and all. It now runs around the parish with the other chickens. It will make for a delicious dinner some night.
Once more I have been overwhelmed by the generosity of the people I have met. I know Kiba’s family needs that chicken more than we do. To have meat at a meal for most of these families is pretty rare. For some, it only happens twice a year- once for Easter and once for Christmas. Rueben or his brothers will one day need to give their wives-to-be cuffs and necklaces. Giving these gifts to us is a sacrifice made on our behalf. I will always remember and greatly appreciate what I have been given (and that includes all gifts, tangible or not, edible or not).
On Sunday we celebrated the feast of Corpus Christi, and when I say celebrate, I mean it. I attended Mass with Fr. Cyprian in Kambi ya Simba (note spelling correction from previous posts). As expected, Mass was very long, well over three hours. Children received the sacrament of First Holy Communion, and Father gave two homilies for the price of one! I brought along my journal and wrote my own homily for the day. The church is a big one that seats many people. Still, over a hundred had to stand along the back walls for the entire service. I was sore from sitting on the hard bench, but I wasn’t about to begin complaining.
Following Mass we participated in a Eucharistic Procession. This was by far the largest that I have ever seen. It was the longest as well. I would estimate that there were easily
700+ of us processing from the church to the village center of Kami ya Simba. The First Communicants led the parade followed by little girls in white dresses. The first girls were wearing angel wings, and the others were tossing flower petals as we walked. Next came Fr. Cyprian with the Monstrance under a simple tent made of a white sheet and four branches. We stopped at four altars along the way, and we sang as we walked form one to the other. After the fourth altar, 18 of us packed into the Land Cruiser to drive back to the church. Fr. Cyprian sat in the front seat still reverently holding the Monstrance containing the Body of Christ. That was definitely the most holy (and crowded) ride that I have ever taken. The day was long, but I enjoyed it all. The Church has many faithful disciples out here in rural Tanzania, and it has been a privilege to share in the liturgical and spiritual life that is very alive here.
Willie, one of our friends and first year students, was among the many to make his First Holy Communion on Sunday. The celebration continued at the school after we got back home from the procession. We had a party. The food was plentiful, and we enjoyed sodas and even a cake. I participated in the cake dance. We danced and sang as we carried the cake to the head table where Willie was seated. The cake was cut into small pieces, and Willie fed each of us a piece after our names were called. We would clap and sing until the person walked up to the table to eat the cake after his or her name was called. The night was fun, festive and definitely memorable. We sang and laughed and danced. There was a lot of joy at the school that night.
My Grandma celebrates her birthday tomorrow, the 17th. Happy birthday, Grandma! I love you. I look forward to celebrating with you after I get home in July.
For my afternoon class I shared pictures of my home, family, farm, friends, and Notre Dame. I also had some pictures from some of my travels in Europe. They are pretty fascinated with life in America and ask a lot of questions. I have been asked about my wife many times. They also want to know what tribe I come from.
Much of the fresh produce that the priests eat here are gifts from the villagers offered at Mass. They take seriously the idea that the first fruits are to be given to God. The line at offertory is always long. No plate is passed. Everybody walks up to the altar. If you have money to give, there is a box up front. If you have eggs, corn, pumpkins, cucumbers, beans, tomatoes, or onions, those are set at the foot of the altar. If your gift has four legs or wings, it too is brought up to the altar for a blessing by Father.
I enjoy helping Marietta, out cook, prepare lunch or dinner. She enjoys the company. Her English is pretty good, so she has been teaching me some Swahili. She lets Charlie and me be creative in the kitchen. Taking a pumpkin that was given at Mass, Charlie made a pumpkin cake and pumpkin soup. I took the seeds, salted them, and baked them. The priests were especially impressed with the pumpkin soup, which was served for dinner last night.
To celebrate the end of the week, Charlie and I prepared a fire outside. We gathered wood and dead branches and lit the fire as soon as the sun set, which was around 7:00pm. We invited the students to sit with us. We had a great night of joking and laughing and sharing. Charlie shared his pumpkin cake, and I passed around the pumpkin seeds that were still warm from the oven. Our friends expressed their desire to travel to America and see our homes and families. Charlie and I were told that we were going to be missed when we leave. I hope we have more nights like this before the students leave for holiday.
We woke up early on Saturday for 7:30am Mass. After a quick breakfast Charlie and I set off with Christopher and Rueben to visit Rueben’s family in Lostete. This walk was the longest yet- about 16 km I was told. We saw elephant trails along the way and fresh elephant tracks in the dust. Elephants are around, and I know that I will see one in the backyard before I leave. Being such large animals, I don’t know how they hide so well. We climbed up and slid down some steep hills, scaled large rocks, and hopped across streams. These hikes are not walks in the park!
After dodging several downhill-running donkeys, we finally arrived at the home of Rueben. We were ushered into a hut where we were given tea and cobs of corn to eat. It felt nice to sit and rest in the shade. As we sat there, goats and chickens ran around outside the door. Rueben’s family lives in four little huts that are surrounded by a fence. The huts and fence are made entirely out of natural materials (sticks, straw, and mud), and all the floors are dirt. The huts are impressively built, but they are n0t too big. I had to squeeze and duck to get in the doors. We were given a tour of each hut and the fields that surround the home. There is no electricity at all out there. All the cooking is done over a fire pit.
After the tour, Rueben indicated that he wanted to give Charlie and me gifts. We tried to kindly refuse, but we soon realized that “no thank you” was going to get us nowhere. Plus, we knew it would seem rude not to graciously accept the gifts. First, we were given small, wooden clubs that were hand-carved and painted black. Next, Rueben’s mother presented us with wrist cuffs that she made with hundreds of little white beads and pieces of bone. Then she gave us each a neckpiece that was also made by her. Mine has a leather base and is decorated with many different colored beads and seeds. It is very intricate, and I can tell that a lot of time was put into it. Rueben’s family comes from the Maasai tribe, and these are traditional pieces of jewelry. We later learned from Fr. Comfort that these pieces are presented to a woman before a marriage can take place. He said that they are very valuable and highly sought after.
On our way home, we stopped at the home of another student named Kiba. Again we were seated for tea. We didn’t stay too long, but once more we were presented with a gift. Kiba’s mother gave us a plump hen. I carried that chicken under my arm from Kiba’s home to an out station where Fr. Comfort was saying Mass that afternoon. We gladly accepted a ride back to Kitete with him, chicken and all. It now runs around the parish with the other chickens. It will make for a delicious dinner some night.
Once more I have been overwhelmed by the generosity of the people I have met. I know Kiba’s family needs that chicken more than we do. To have meat at a meal for most of these families is pretty rare. For some, it only happens twice a year- once for Easter and once for Christmas. Rueben or his brothers will one day need to give their wives-to-be cuffs and necklaces. Giving these gifts to us is a sacrifice made on our behalf. I will always remember and greatly appreciate what I have been given (and that includes all gifts, tangible or not, edible or not).
On Sunday we celebrated the feast of Corpus Christi, and when I say celebrate, I mean it. I attended Mass with Fr. Cyprian in Kambi ya Simba (note spelling correction from previous posts). As expected, Mass was very long, well over three hours. Children received the sacrament of First Holy Communion, and Father gave two homilies for the price of one! I brought along my journal and wrote my own homily for the day. The church is a big one that seats many people. Still, over a hundred had to stand along the back walls for the entire service. I was sore from sitting on the hard bench, but I wasn’t about to begin complaining.
Following Mass we participated in a Eucharistic Procession. This was by far the largest that I have ever seen. It was the longest as well. I would estimate that there were easily
700+ of us processing from the church to the village center of Kami ya Simba. The First Communicants led the parade followed by little girls in white dresses. The first girls were wearing angel wings, and the others were tossing flower petals as we walked. Next came Fr. Cyprian with the Monstrance under a simple tent made of a white sheet and four branches. We stopped at four altars along the way, and we sang as we walked form one to the other. After the fourth altar, 18 of us packed into the Land Cruiser to drive back to the church. Fr. Cyprian sat in the front seat still reverently holding the Monstrance containing the Body of Christ. That was definitely the most holy (and crowded) ride that I have ever taken. The day was long, but I enjoyed it all. The Church has many faithful disciples out here in rural Tanzania, and it has been a privilege to share in the liturgical and spiritual life that is very alive here.
Willie, one of our friends and first year students, was among the many to make his First Holy Communion on Sunday. The celebration continued at the school after we got back home from the procession. We had a party. The food was plentiful, and we enjoyed sodas and even a cake. I participated in the cake dance. We danced and sang as we carried the cake to the head table where Willie was seated. The cake was cut into small pieces, and Willie fed each of us a piece after our names were called. We would clap and sing until the person walked up to the table to eat the cake after his or her name was called. The night was fun, festive and definitely memorable. We sang and laughed and danced. There was a lot of joy at the school that night.
My Grandma celebrates her birthday tomorrow, the 17th. Happy birthday, Grandma! I love you. I look forward to celebrating with you after I get home in July.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Great Elephant Chase
The generator wasn’t working a few days this week. We ate dinner by the light of our lanterns. I liked this. I enjoy the simplicity. I enjoy not hearing the buzz of the motor. I enjoy not smelling the exhaust. The generator was fixed yesterday.
Teaching here in Kitete has been very interesting. There have been some challenges, some unique circumstances. For instance, there is an animal barn about four feet outside the first year classroom. I am interrupted often by the goats. They sure can make some noise. When the grass gets long, the “lawnmowers” are let loose; I really enjoy the cattle that pass by the window every now and then. My clothes are covered in chalk dust. We’ve lost another computer. Not only are we down to seven now, but I noticed that the cord that runs from the generator to the computer lab was spliced the other day. No computer class that day. I took the students outside. We played Old Maid and Go Fish instead. They had a good time, so did I. I’m teaching the second year class some basic geometry. I explained the relationship between the diameter of a circle and its circumference. We’ve been calculating the area of a circle using 22/7 to approximate pi. There are, of course, no calculators. After class one of the students asked what the homework was. I said there was none. He insisted that I gave him some problems to work on. I gladly drew some circles in his notebook, giving him some equations to solve. He asked for more work! Imagine that.
My clothes are (arguably) clean again. They dried before any rain this time. Having clean clothing, showering, and shaving have become grand occasions. What was once the norm is now exciting. I feel refreshed and renewed each time. Somebody will have to explain to me how a washing machine works again after I get home.
The hills were once all forest. (Just as the tall hills in the horizon are mountains to me, the forests here are the jungle.) Much has been cleared and burned for agriculture. The school rests right in front of the fire line, where the wheat fields meet the entrance to the forest. Along the fire line are small huts made of branches and dried brush. There is a little cot inside and a fire pit. One hut for every couple hundred meters. Men post watch in these huts at night. Watching and listening for the elephants. Last night an elephant was spotted near the fire line. This is big news. The elephants can ruin entire fields of wheat or corn pretty quickly. Fr. Comfort found Charlie and me reading last night. He said that if we wanted to see an elephant out back, now was the time. We ran outside and there was a lot of commotion and excitement. The little Ford tractor was running, and we were told to jump on. There were seven of us clinging to the tractor, but the front bright lights wouldn’t turn on. We ditched the tractor and jumped in the back of the pick-up. We raced to the trail along the fire line. We would turn abruptly to shine the lights in the fields. We had our flashlights, too, looking for the elephants. We held on tightly to the rollover bar, dodging low-hanging branches as we sped down the trail. I could hear the elephants just within the trees. When they walk, branches snap and small trees are pushed to the ground. The elephants themselves are quiet, but they make a lot of noise. The flashlight showed the tops of trees swaying as the elephants moved past them. If our job was to scare the elephants off, well, we were successful. I never actually saw an elephant last night, but the hunt was exciting and exhilarating nonetheless.
Charlie and I walked back out to the fire line with the man who was staying out there last night. The night was cool, but not yet cold. I was wearing shorts, and I felt just fine. We stood out there with him. He was listening for the elephants. Charlie and I were looking at the stars. The moon was already out of sight, so visibility was perfect. It’s almost poetic (and ironic) to think that there are more stars when there is less light to interfere. More light when it’s darker. The Milky Way looks like a line of white puffy clouds in the night sky that don’t move. No airplanes. A few satellites. A few “falling stars.” I said the stars looked beautiful. The man with us said, “Uh-huh.” I don’t think he knew what I said because he speaks Swahili, but he understood.
Teaching here in Kitete has been very interesting. There have been some challenges, some unique circumstances. For instance, there is an animal barn about four feet outside the first year classroom. I am interrupted often by the goats. They sure can make some noise. When the grass gets long, the “lawnmowers” are let loose; I really enjoy the cattle that pass by the window every now and then. My clothes are covered in chalk dust. We’ve lost another computer. Not only are we down to seven now, but I noticed that the cord that runs from the generator to the computer lab was spliced the other day. No computer class that day. I took the students outside. We played Old Maid and Go Fish instead. They had a good time, so did I. I’m teaching the second year class some basic geometry. I explained the relationship between the diameter of a circle and its circumference. We’ve been calculating the area of a circle using 22/7 to approximate pi. There are, of course, no calculators. After class one of the students asked what the homework was. I said there was none. He insisted that I gave him some problems to work on. I gladly drew some circles in his notebook, giving him some equations to solve. He asked for more work! Imagine that.
My clothes are (arguably) clean again. They dried before any rain this time. Having clean clothing, showering, and shaving have become grand occasions. What was once the norm is now exciting. I feel refreshed and renewed each time. Somebody will have to explain to me how a washing machine works again after I get home.
The hills were once all forest. (Just as the tall hills in the horizon are mountains to me, the forests here are the jungle.) Much has been cleared and burned for agriculture. The school rests right in front of the fire line, where the wheat fields meet the entrance to the forest. Along the fire line are small huts made of branches and dried brush. There is a little cot inside and a fire pit. One hut for every couple hundred meters. Men post watch in these huts at night. Watching and listening for the elephants. Last night an elephant was spotted near the fire line. This is big news. The elephants can ruin entire fields of wheat or corn pretty quickly. Fr. Comfort found Charlie and me reading last night. He said that if we wanted to see an elephant out back, now was the time. We ran outside and there was a lot of commotion and excitement. The little Ford tractor was running, and we were told to jump on. There were seven of us clinging to the tractor, but the front bright lights wouldn’t turn on. We ditched the tractor and jumped in the back of the pick-up. We raced to the trail along the fire line. We would turn abruptly to shine the lights in the fields. We had our flashlights, too, looking for the elephants. We held on tightly to the rollover bar, dodging low-hanging branches as we sped down the trail. I could hear the elephants just within the trees. When they walk, branches snap and small trees are pushed to the ground. The elephants themselves are quiet, but they make a lot of noise. The flashlight showed the tops of trees swaying as the elephants moved past them. If our job was to scare the elephants off, well, we were successful. I never actually saw an elephant last night, but the hunt was exciting and exhilarating nonetheless.
Charlie and I walked back out to the fire line with the man who was staying out there last night. The night was cool, but not yet cold. I was wearing shorts, and I felt just fine. We stood out there with him. He was listening for the elephants. Charlie and I were looking at the stars. The moon was already out of sight, so visibility was perfect. It’s almost poetic (and ironic) to think that there are more stars when there is less light to interfere. More light when it’s darker. The Milky Way looks like a line of white puffy clouds in the night sky that don’t move. No airplanes. A few satellites. A few “falling stars.” I said the stars looked beautiful. The man with us said, “Uh-huh.” I don’t think he knew what I said because he speaks Swahili, but he understood.
Lydia
There is only one clock in the house. It is on the wall above the dining room table. It is five minutes slow. Sometimes I wish I didn’t even have a watch here. I’d fit in a lot more if I didn’t know or care what time it was. Plus, my watch beeps every hour. That bothers me most. Maybe if I pushed some buttons on it, the beeping will stop. Maybe I will just get rid of the watch altogether. Class usually starts ten minutes after it should. On Sundays, Mass usually begins about three hours after it should. I’ve gotten used to both.
On Saturday night, Fr. Cyprian said that he was saying Mass at 8:00am here at St. Brendan’s and then at 10:00am at a nearby church in the village called Wheat Scheme. Jokingly, I asked if the Mass would really begin on time. “It will start right on time,” said Father. He was still celebrating the 8:00am Mass and it was after 10:30am. I think we finally arrived at Wheat Scheme a little past noon. I couldn’t tell you the actual time. I left my watch on my desk- on purpose. A few ladies from the parish made us lunch. Even as a stranger- one with a different color skin and a different language- I have been welcomed every place I visit. Everyone is so friendly, and nothing says, “We’re glad you’re here” than an invitation to share a meal.
After lunch, Fr. Cyprian spoke to a mother outside the church. She said her daughter, one of the students at our school, was seriously ill. Before heading back to Kitete, we stopped at the home of the family. I knew exactly who we were going to see before we found the house. Lydia, a first year student, said she wasn’t feeling well in class Tuesday afternoon. She asked to be excused. At the time I figured she just wanted to get out of the (boring) English class. I didn’t blame her, so I let her go. She didn’t come to class on Wednesday. She missed every class for the rest of the week.
We walked up the steep embankment to the front yard. Here we met the family, mother, father, aunt, and a few little kids. Lydia was there, too, but I didn’t notice her at first. She was lying on the dirt ground under a blanket and on top of two grain bags. She was visibly weak. She could barely keep her eyes open, and she didn’t have enough strength to lift or hold herself up. She was in terrible pain. The family indicated that something was wrong with her breast, an infection or boil or something like that. Father asked if she had seen a doctor. The family said no, but that the nearby pharmacist had given her some medicine. Fr. Cyprian was upset and on the verge of being angry with the mother. He asked how they could let her get this bad without seeing a doctor. He said that she needed to go to the hospital in Karatu right away. He offered to drive Lydia given the family had money to pay the doctor bills. Father said that if they could get together 30,000 shillings, he would provide the transportation. The family said that they did not have the money. After sitting with Lydia for a while under the hot sun, we left for Kitete. I said nothing the entire time. I simply rubbed her shoulder as we were preparing to leave.
30,000 shillings is just under $30. If it was only going to take less than $30 to help this girl, there was no way I wasn’t going to give the money if the family couldn’t afford it. Charlie and I decided that we would give the family the money for the visit to the hospital if needed. On the ride home, Father was still upset with the family. It was possible that they did in fact have the money but didn’t want to part with it for their daughter. We have heard stories of families using money to buy bigger or better tractors before giving it to their children for education of for building decent block homes. Tractors and combines are status symbols here, and they are sometimes valued more than children.
That evening we played volleyball with the students. Let me rephrase that. That evening we played volleyball with our new friends. Fr. Cyprian needed the game and the laughing to release the stresses of the day. Lydia never left his mind, though. That evening he drove back to Wheat Scheme to see Lydia again. She was in a terrible condition, so he drove her and the family to the hospital right away. He was going to wait until the next morning, but he couldn’t go to bed that night knowing that she was suffering. He left quickly after volleyball. I wish I could have gone with him.
The trip to the hospital is rough and long. Along the way, Lydia asked for some water to drink. She then said, “Let us pray.” Father said he knew that something was wrong when she said that. She stopped talking, closed her eyes, stopped breathing, and fell lifeless. The family was hysterical. There was crying, and the aunt was screaming. At the hospital, the doctors administered CPR as soon as Lydia was pulled from the vehicle. She began breathing again.
It is now Thursday. Lydia hasn’t been back to school yet. Father received an update yesterday. Lydia is still in the hospital. She is talking and eating. No word on an official diagnoses. I asked if the family was able to pay for the hospital visit. He said that the school gave the family 20,000 shillings to help. Lydia still needs our prayers.
I must admit one thing.
Lydia was the first person we saw here in Tanzania whose suffering was urgent and obvious. I didn’t know how to respond when we were with her and her family Sunday afternoon. I have been taught that simply “being with” her was an appropriate response. I know I didn’t need to say anything. However, I was troubled by the initial thoughts that flew through my mind. When I first saw her there with flies crawling on her legs and feet, I thought of myself, “Was I in danger of getting sick? She was in my class, so could I catch what she has? Being here at her side, is my health at risk?” I know I need to take care of myself while I am here. Staying healthy is definitely a priority. Nevertheless, I felt ashamed of myself for putting me before her. I need to be careful, but I can’t be afraid. I wiped those thoughts away quickly, and focused all my attention and prayers on Lydia.
On Saturday night, Fr. Cyprian said that he was saying Mass at 8:00am here at St. Brendan’s and then at 10:00am at a nearby church in the village called Wheat Scheme. Jokingly, I asked if the Mass would really begin on time. “It will start right on time,” said Father. He was still celebrating the 8:00am Mass and it was after 10:30am. I think we finally arrived at Wheat Scheme a little past noon. I couldn’t tell you the actual time. I left my watch on my desk- on purpose. A few ladies from the parish made us lunch. Even as a stranger- one with a different color skin and a different language- I have been welcomed every place I visit. Everyone is so friendly, and nothing says, “We’re glad you’re here” than an invitation to share a meal.
After lunch, Fr. Cyprian spoke to a mother outside the church. She said her daughter, one of the students at our school, was seriously ill. Before heading back to Kitete, we stopped at the home of the family. I knew exactly who we were going to see before we found the house. Lydia, a first year student, said she wasn’t feeling well in class Tuesday afternoon. She asked to be excused. At the time I figured she just wanted to get out of the (boring) English class. I didn’t blame her, so I let her go. She didn’t come to class on Wednesday. She missed every class for the rest of the week.
We walked up the steep embankment to the front yard. Here we met the family, mother, father, aunt, and a few little kids. Lydia was there, too, but I didn’t notice her at first. She was lying on the dirt ground under a blanket and on top of two grain bags. She was visibly weak. She could barely keep her eyes open, and she didn’t have enough strength to lift or hold herself up. She was in terrible pain. The family indicated that something was wrong with her breast, an infection or boil or something like that. Father asked if she had seen a doctor. The family said no, but that the nearby pharmacist had given her some medicine. Fr. Cyprian was upset and on the verge of being angry with the mother. He asked how they could let her get this bad without seeing a doctor. He said that she needed to go to the hospital in Karatu right away. He offered to drive Lydia given the family had money to pay the doctor bills. Father said that if they could get together 30,000 shillings, he would provide the transportation. The family said that they did not have the money. After sitting with Lydia for a while under the hot sun, we left for Kitete. I said nothing the entire time. I simply rubbed her shoulder as we were preparing to leave.
30,000 shillings is just under $30. If it was only going to take less than $30 to help this girl, there was no way I wasn’t going to give the money if the family couldn’t afford it. Charlie and I decided that we would give the family the money for the visit to the hospital if needed. On the ride home, Father was still upset with the family. It was possible that they did in fact have the money but didn’t want to part with it for their daughter. We have heard stories of families using money to buy bigger or better tractors before giving it to their children for education of for building decent block homes. Tractors and combines are status symbols here, and they are sometimes valued more than children.
That evening we played volleyball with the students. Let me rephrase that. That evening we played volleyball with our new friends. Fr. Cyprian needed the game and the laughing to release the stresses of the day. Lydia never left his mind, though. That evening he drove back to Wheat Scheme to see Lydia again. She was in a terrible condition, so he drove her and the family to the hospital right away. He was going to wait until the next morning, but he couldn’t go to bed that night knowing that she was suffering. He left quickly after volleyball. I wish I could have gone with him.
The trip to the hospital is rough and long. Along the way, Lydia asked for some water to drink. She then said, “Let us pray.” Father said he knew that something was wrong when she said that. She stopped talking, closed her eyes, stopped breathing, and fell lifeless. The family was hysterical. There was crying, and the aunt was screaming. At the hospital, the doctors administered CPR as soon as Lydia was pulled from the vehicle. She began breathing again.
It is now Thursday. Lydia hasn’t been back to school yet. Father received an update yesterday. Lydia is still in the hospital. She is talking and eating. No word on an official diagnoses. I asked if the family was able to pay for the hospital visit. He said that the school gave the family 20,000 shillings to help. Lydia still needs our prayers.
I must admit one thing.
Lydia was the first person we saw here in Tanzania whose suffering was urgent and obvious. I didn’t know how to respond when we were with her and her family Sunday afternoon. I have been taught that simply “being with” her was an appropriate response. I know I didn’t need to say anything. However, I was troubled by the initial thoughts that flew through my mind. When I first saw her there with flies crawling on her legs and feet, I thought of myself, “Was I in danger of getting sick? She was in my class, so could I catch what she has? Being here at her side, is my health at risk?” I know I need to take care of myself while I am here. Staying healthy is definitely a priority. Nevertheless, I felt ashamed of myself for putting me before her. I need to be careful, but I can’t be afraid. I wiped those thoughts away quickly, and focused all my attention and prayers on Lydia.
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