The past couple weeks I’ve observed a few more things about life in Tanzania. The first is glass: it is everywhere. Broken glass can be found on the beach, on the sides of the roads, and frequently in the hands of little kids – they play with it because they don’t know better. Yesterday at school my kids were playing with shards of glass and bits of plastic. Others were playing with beer bottle caps and flattening them with rocks, then playing with the flat, sharp, circular caps. There are no toys, even the balls kids play soccer with are halfway deflated.
There are no lawnmowers in Tanzania. Grass is cut using long angular machetes. Grass cutters swing the machete side to side repeatedly, with strands of grass flying in the air. I see grass being cut most mornings on my way to school, before the hottest part of the day comes. Grass grows in an unorganized fashion, it sprouts up through concrete and sidewalks. It seems unruly but I kind of like it, Tanzania has an authentic feel that years in the suburbs with freshly trimmed perimeters lack.
Hunger is painfully visible across Bagamoyo and Tanzania. I finally brought a pencil sharpener to school and I noticed that the pencil shavings were mostly gone even though there’s no trashcan. I realized this week that my kids have been eating the pencil shavings because they are so hungry. This breaks my heart. Here I am, biking and running around Tanzania hoping to lose a little weight when my kids are malnourished and hungry most of the day. But they are so bright and cheery, you would never know. It’s a striking change from the United States, where most people worry they eat too much food, many children are obese, and physical activity is a luxury rather than a necessity. I pass no judgment but I cannot help but seriously evaluate my own priorities and needs.
Sanitation is another topic I would be remised not to mention. In the United States sanitation, diarrhea, and constipation are the stuff of South Park and classroom jokes. In Tanzania it’s a reality and it kills. The bathroom, if you will call it that, at my school is merely a wooden shack with a hole into the ground. There is no water pressure, no soap, no toilet paper. I bring my own toilet paper to school. This is particularly problematic because cholera is spread from foot to mouth, essentially through contaminated water and human feces. Running water like we enjoy at the Cross Cultural Solutions home base is a luxury most Bagamoyo residents do not know.
Last, I have noticed the tendency to resort to physical responses to problems, not only between kids in my class but from the teachers and other Tanzanians. Several of my kids hit and push one another which I’m sure is common. However, the teachers at all schools in Tanzania are essentially allowed to use corporal punishment, AKA hitting the kids with a stick or ruler. This bothered me less when it was used for bad behavior, but I was deeply bothered when it was used in the classroom for not knowing answers to questions. It bothers me because I know it is socializing these kids to fear trying to answer questions, to be afraid of school. While the strikes are never hard and don’t leave a physical mark, there is undoubtedly a subconscious one that lingers. Many of my kids are orphans, I’ve learned, most due to HIV/AIDS or malaria. The kids tend to live with a surviving grandparent or other caretaker. They are so sweet, and in fact many of the orphans are my best students – very smart and diligent with their schoolwork. Without parental support, I have to wonder if I would have worked as hard as my kids work – and they are so little, only 4 or 5 years old.
That’s all for now… these updates are in no particular order but usually things I get to thinking about for a few days and decide to share.
Picture: Me and Emmanuel, undoubtedly my favorite student. The necklace I’m wearing is a shell he gave me, and my friend Dickson turned it into a necklace.
There are no lawnmowers in Tanzania. Grass is cut using long angular machetes. Grass cutters swing the machete side to side repeatedly, with strands of grass flying in the air. I see grass being cut most mornings on my way to school, before the hottest part of the day comes. Grass grows in an unorganized fashion, it sprouts up through concrete and sidewalks. It seems unruly but I kind of like it, Tanzania has an authentic feel that years in the suburbs with freshly trimmed perimeters lack.
Hunger is painfully visible across Bagamoyo and Tanzania. I finally brought a pencil sharpener to school and I noticed that the pencil shavings were mostly gone even though there’s no trashcan. I realized this week that my kids have been eating the pencil shavings because they are so hungry. This breaks my heart. Here I am, biking and running around Tanzania hoping to lose a little weight when my kids are malnourished and hungry most of the day. But they are so bright and cheery, you would never know. It’s a striking change from the United States, where most people worry they eat too much food, many children are obese, and physical activity is a luxury rather than a necessity. I pass no judgment but I cannot help but seriously evaluate my own priorities and needs.
Sanitation is another topic I would be remised not to mention. In the United States sanitation, diarrhea, and constipation are the stuff of South Park and classroom jokes. In Tanzania it’s a reality and it kills. The bathroom, if you will call it that, at my school is merely a wooden shack with a hole into the ground. There is no water pressure, no soap, no toilet paper. I bring my own toilet paper to school. This is particularly problematic because cholera is spread from foot to mouth, essentially through contaminated water and human feces. Running water like we enjoy at the Cross Cultural Solutions home base is a luxury most Bagamoyo residents do not know.
Last, I have noticed the tendency to resort to physical responses to problems, not only between kids in my class but from the teachers and other Tanzanians. Several of my kids hit and push one another which I’m sure is common. However, the teachers at all schools in Tanzania are essentially allowed to use corporal punishment, AKA hitting the kids with a stick or ruler. This bothered me less when it was used for bad behavior, but I was deeply bothered when it was used in the classroom for not knowing answers to questions. It bothers me because I know it is socializing these kids to fear trying to answer questions, to be afraid of school. While the strikes are never hard and don’t leave a physical mark, there is undoubtedly a subconscious one that lingers. Many of my kids are orphans, I’ve learned, most due to HIV/AIDS or malaria. The kids tend to live with a surviving grandparent or other caretaker. They are so sweet, and in fact many of the orphans are my best students – very smart and diligent with their schoolwork. Without parental support, I have to wonder if I would have worked as hard as my kids work – and they are so little, only 4 or 5 years old.
That’s all for now… these updates are in no particular order but usually things I get to thinking about for a few days and decide to share.
Picture: Me and Emmanuel, undoubtedly my favorite student. The necklace I’m wearing is a shell he gave me, and my friend Dickson turned it into a necklace.
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