Msiba: Funeral

The only major cultural event I hadn’t experienced yet was a funeral and this past Saturday, I was invited to attend the funeral of the father of MTCEA’s principal in Ngope, a small village about two hours drive from here. Our planned departure time of 7am was delayed to nearly 8am and the only thing I could think of was the precious minutes of sleep I was missing out on. I was fortunate enough to catch a ride with my host parents in a small car and leave an extra space for someone on the bus reserved for our students and staff. We hit the dirt road an hour later and it was slow-going from then on as our driver attempted to avoid the worst of the potholes and large rocks in the road. I volunteered for the back middle seat – bad move. My knees were killing me until my host mum insisted on switching with me. At least her legs aren’t as long as mine.
Along the way, we passed numerous large groups of young men armed with spears, bows and arrows, slingshots and bags of stones jogging alongside the road. We slowed and asked one of the young men what was happening. Turns out the neighbouring Kuria tribe had attacked an area nearby, burned down 100 homes, and stolen livestock belonging to the Luo tribe. These Luo men were on their way to avenge the Kuria attack and assured us we were headed opposite to the where the fighting would take place. It was intimidating to drive by these fierce-looking warriors on their way to do battle armed with traditional weapons. Women and children passed us trying to escape the anticipated fighting, burdened with babies, mattresses, and bags with some belongings. It was a strange sight in a country that is otherwise so peaceful. Tribal connections remain strong among Tanzanians and long-standing disputes sometimes flare up into serious conflict.
We arrived safely at the home of the deceased and his family. It was a large property with two homes and a yard now covered by nearly 3,000 plastic chairs, a few tents for added shade, and a growing number of various types of vehicles stuffed with people. Everyone lined up (the first time I’ve ever seen an orderly cue in Tanzania) in front of a small tent containing the coffin and the grieving widow accompanied by her sisters. The coffin had a small glass pane to see the face of the deceased and once we saw his face, we paid our respects to the widow and her sisters. I sat with my host parents, the MTCEA staff, and my students in a tent towards the back of the gathering. An usher hurried over and announced we were to seat ourselves in a different section, what I called the ‘VIP’ section – special guests, Mennonite Church representatives, and us!
The program stated that tributes would be given starting at 9:30am until 3:30pm and the order would be as follows: friends, in-laws, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, Church representatives, and the widow. I barely understood more than a handful of what was being said and chatted with my students instead (I scanned the crowd beforehand and this seemed to be acceptable behaviour). By 11ish, we were starving! Thankfully, we were called to eat in one of the homes. As special guests, we ate the better food consisting of rice, beans, and a pot full of cow parts. The various innards were scooped up first. My job was to open everyone’s sodas (no tin cans here, just glass) and figure out how to scoop my bowl of food into my mouth with no utensils. We returned to the funeral service and the tributes were still in full swing. Small groups of people would move towards one of the two eating areas and in this way nearly 3,000 people were fed in about 3 hours – seriously impressive, especially considering that no stoves, microwaves, or other kitchen appliances were used!
When it came time to bury the body next to the main house, I found myself in the front row of onlookers until I was pushed behind a row of pastors and bishops. One of my students tapped the shoulder of the Don King look-alike in front of me to get me a better view. A few prayers were said and hymns sung before the body was lowered into a cemented and tiled grave. A handful of dirt was thrown on the coffin, the hole covered with wood planks, the widow and family ushered forward to place ribbon wreaths on the grave. And just like that, it was done – at 2:00pm! It’s the first time I have ever left a Tanzanian event early. I was fully prepared to stay until 4:30pm at least. My host parents and I spoke briefly with Theo (the Principal) before heading home in the opposite direction we’d taken that morning. Fighting had broken out in the area we’d passed through and, to avoid any unnecessary involvement, we passed through the village of Shirati.
The irony: I attended an impromptu wedding ceremony at our church the next morning. I don’t think I’ve ever attended a funeral and a wedding back to back. Only in Tanzania! TIA!!!

French Toast and Burritos, TZ style!

I finally convinced my host mum to let me into her cooking domain and give her a day off. I made sure to pass on a detailed shopping list in Kiswahili to my host father several days before so they would know what to buy. Saturday morning arrived and I whipped up a storm in the kitchen using the kerosene jiko and squatting on a stool, flipping French Toast. It was all very entertaining for my host siblings who had never seen me cook before. They loved the French Toast and my host mum promised to try making it herself next week.
Next up were the burritos. For this meal I enlisted the help of my host siblings. They’re experts at starting a charcoal fire in the jikos and it’s not something I’m too familiar with. Everyone had their task: Neema was in charge of the beans, Paschal took over the rice, and Neema, Clara, and I started on the chapatti. We had a great time cooking together and listening to Paschal, aka Mr. Bean, tell silly jokes and stories. My host mum was seriously impressed with how well we did. Her kids don’t often get a chance to cook because she prefers doing it herself.
The best part was watching them each attempt to create their very first burrito. I had to explain the concept of rolling the chapatti before eating it. I demonstrated and they followed suit. When they realized they’d have to pick up the burrito to eat it, they broke out in laughter. Eventually, everyone got the hang of it. It got very messy but they were all game for seconds! My host father declared it a delicious meal and let me know he was no longer concerned about Dan starving once we’re married. My cooking skills passed his test :-)

A Tale of English, Computers, and Psychology...

I know, an odd combination but that’s what I’m teaching in my last semester at MTCEA. Who would’ve thunk it?! Me, teaching computers halfway around the world! At the end of last semester, Theo found out the College would receive $1000US from Eastern Mennonite Missions to fund the purchase of typewriters. The money was put aside years ago and never made it – until now. Well, the age of the typewriter is definitely over and we decided to put the money towards purchasing one, maybe two, computers for the students. I emailed Kurtis, a fellow MCC TZer, to find out about pricing and instead I get an email with possible prices but also an amazing offer: Kurtis would help us set up a computer lab and donate four computers! This meant we had enough money to purchase four screens, keyboards, computer mice, and some wiring. It all came together before the start of the next semester.

Every teacher was already saddled with a full load of classes and no one had enough computer knowledge to teach our students – except me, apparently. Well, there are only so many hours in a day and I was determined to continue with my afternoon English classes. I decided to split all of my students into groups of 4, allowing me to put them with students at the same English level. I teach two groups of 4, Monday to Thursday, for one hour each, 30 minutes for English at the beginning followed by 30 minutes of computer. The majority of my students have never used a computer so we’re starting with the basics, ie. this is the keyboard/ mouse/ screen... Thanks to Kurtis, I’ve got all of them working on this sweet typing program to get their skills up fairly quickly. They love it! They’re in here every day for extra time outside of class to practise and they’re picking it up pretty fast. I’m planning a typing tournament for the week of mid terms exams as a meaningful distraction from the stress of studying.

As for the English portion of the class, I couldn’t be happier! After the really difficult end to last semester, I had no idea what to expect this time around. This semester, there are no exams, marks, or major assignments. The smaller group size and similar English level means they all have to talk and they’re doing brilliantly. We’re practising what to say in chapel – English only! I started a week ago and since then, every chapel MC has led the service in English! One of my students totally surprised me when he got up and preached in English this past Thursday. No one knew he was planning to preach in English and he did really well. I sit in the front row and can barely contain the huge smile on my face every time they get up and try out their newly acquired English skills. I’m practically bursting with pride! I make a point of congratulating each one of them afterwards. Not in a million years did I expect this kind of a turnaround. Psalm 23 has taken on a whole new meaning for me. I feel like I’ve been through my own valley of the shadow of death and God has been my guide the entire way and led me through to the green pastures and quiet waters.

My Psychology class is going just as well. I’ve rediscovered the passion I felt for the course when I first took it in college years ago. I had the most amazing prof back then and I feel like I have an obligation to pass even a sliver of that enthusiasm on to my students. It’s tough material and a lot of the terminology is completely foreign to them. Try explaining neural communication in such a way that your beginner English student can understand it. I prepare my lecture notes and have no idea how I’m going to simplify what I’ve just written for class the next day. I walk in with lots of prayer and somehow God just puts the words and ideas in my head. I think my students just get a kick out of seeing me wave my arms around like I’m crazy as I demonstrate the sending of a neural impulse from one neuron to the next!

I just want to say again how much I appreciate each one of you who have been praying for me throughout this entire year. I would not be where I am without your prayers and support. I am enjoying these last weeks before my departure. Ten weeks and counting...

Safari Part III: Nairobi/ Tanzania

The final leg of our journey took us back to Nairobi and our day-long layover was spent sleeping in, shopping, and touring the DIGUNA station outside Nairobi. We met some of Martin’s co-workers, including the man who was best man at my parents’ wedding nearly 30 years ago! We boarded our late night bus and began the long trip to TZ. 15 hours, one border crossing, three long stops, and a police incident later, we were in Musoma. (For the curious ones, two passengers on our bus accused a third of stealing their money. Turns out the two were con men and, once everything was said and done, we were back on the road and they were sitting in a cell.) We had two hours to rest before catching a bus to Mugumu. Talk about a road trip! All day Sunday was spent in the Serengeti searching for any and every animal. We saw 16 different kinds – Mum had me write a list. We saw lots of hippo, in and out of the water, a huge herd of buffalo, ostriches, zebras, giraffes... It was my second Serengeti trip and I was still amazed at the variety and beauty of these creatures. God is pretty creative! Kurtis and Carla had us over for dinner and Mum shared all of her African experiences, especially the Serengeti safari. We had two days in Musoma/ Nyabange with my host family. We squeezed in a short walking tour of Musoma Town, a stroll down to Lake Victoria, visits with some of my co-workers, and time with my host family. It was tough saying goodbye to Mum at the Mwanza airport. I managed to keep my tears to a minimum but Mum couldn’t hold back and that just got me going. Thank goodness for sunglasses!

What an incredible journey filled with memories that will last a lifetime! I am so thankful that God kept me/ us safe the entire way. There were no major hitches and all the travel arrangements went smoothly. Thank-you for your prayers! I know God was looking out for me and I was blessed with great travel buddies – Theo, Pete, Mum.

Mum, thanks for coming out and visiting me. Definitely one of the top highlights of my SALT year!

Safari Part II: Nairobi/ Capetown

I’ve started experiencing a lot of ‘last times’ – last time meeting as a team, last time being together with everyone, last time in Nairobi and Mwanza, sigh. I headed up to Nairobi first thing Wednesday morning from Arusha – my first bus ride all alone (my last first I hope – don’t enjoy traveling alone!). I met up with my cousin, Martin, currently working with DIGUNA (stands for ‘the Good News’) doing all sorts of crazy things around Kenya. I hadn’t seen him in two plus years and the first time we see each other again is in Nairobi of all places! I was thrilled it all worked out. He ended up picking up my Mum with me from the airport. It was so good to see my Mum again! Crazy to see her here!!! And she made it with no difficulties or lost luggage. We only had a few hours sleep before we were on our way back to the airport to catch a flight to Capetown. Everything felt so surreal, seeing my Mum, going to Capetown to see my aunt, especially after months of dreaming about this trip, planning it, and then actually having it happen. My aunt, Hillie, was waiting for us at the Capetown airport and whisked us off to her beautiful home in a posh, oops, ’larney ’, part of town. Our first meal was at this amazing beachfront restaurant in Camps Bay. The sunset was gorgeous breaking in over the crashing waves. This place is so much like Vancouver, just the vibe, the weather, the landscape.

We visited Robben Island, the prison Nelson Mandela called home for 18 years along with many other political prisoners fighting the apartheid regime. It was sobering and encouraging to know that their sacrifices brought about the reversal of years of oppression, racism, and injustice. We took a drive along the coastline to my aunt’s and her partner’s Oceanside ‘cottage‘. The views were absolutely stunning and they have the cutest village shops. We had a ‘braii’, Afrikaans for BBQ. I sampled my first ostrich steak – it’s not bad. It’s all the rage in South Africa because they have an overabundance of ostriches and it’s much healthier than beef apparently. Sunday morning caught us in a downpour and thankfully sitting inside a van on a Township Tour. When the apartheid regime was formalized, South Africans were designated as ‘White’, ‘Malay’, ‘Coloured’, or ‘Black’ with many sub-categories. Based on your ‘colour coding’, you had your choice of areas to live in. You can imagine where ‘Blacks’ were allowed to live. The disparity in living conditions can still be seen today although some integration has happened. It was eye-opening to walk thru one of the hostels containing 16 people sharing bathrooms, communal living area, and bunks. We also toured Manenberg, a poverty- and crime-ridden township, with Proudly Manenberg, a grassroots NGO working to improve the living conditions of the residents. They have some very innovative and creative projects from community gardens to a sewing co-op. We spent a day touring Capetown’s famous wine country and enjoyed the haute cuisine. The icing on the cake was our time on Table Mountain, Capetown’s world-renowned landmark. It was a clear sunny day with very little wind, unusual for this towering rock. We wandered the paths along the edge and saw the Atlantic Ocean from one side and the Indian Ocean from the other! Absolutely breathtaking! I loved every minute of my time in Capetown, hanging out with my Mum and my aunt, bombing around in her Minnie and seeing all sides of the city.

Safari Part I: Dodoma, Dar/ Zbar

It has been far too long since I last gave you an update and now that I’ve settled back into life at Nyabange/ MTCEA, I’m long overdue for my next blog post(s). I left Musoma March 31st and didn’t return until April 27th – almost a four week absence! My travel schedule was so frantic that I never had enough time to sit down, reflect, and digest everything that happened along the way. Until now. I was fortunate enough to have travel partners for nearly every leg of my month-long journey. In that time, I spent approx. 60 hours in buses and made a complete circuit of Tanzania – Musoma – Dodoma – Dar/Zanzibar – Arusha – Nairobi(Capetown) – Musoma/Mugumu/Mwanza. It’s quite the list! The following is not a comprehensive account of what happened in those weeks but a look at the highlights. Enjoy!

Dodoma: For this 13 hour journey, I was joined by Theo (my boss) and his two kids, Oure and Joyce, on their way to visit their mother, Agnes, who is currently studying at Dodoma University. I spent a few days visiting Josh and Fairchild, both with MCC. Josh is responsible for a major water project that aims to build four sand dams by the end of this year in partnership with the Mennonite Church of Dodoma. It’s a huge undertaking but he seems to be handling it well. I was introduced to various people from the Church, including the soon-to-be Bishop. These people live and breathe Church. There’s something going on nearly every day from Sunday school to Bible studies to services to community projects – amazing! I met up with Fairchild who is the Church’s Youth Coordinator. Needless to say, her Kiswahili is far better than mine. She’s even started teaching the Church staff English, translating as she goes along. I was very impressed and reminded how lacking my language skills really are. It doesn’t help that I’m surrounded by competent English speakers at school and at home plus teaching English four days a week. Ah well, I know enough to get by. I got a personal tour of the Dodoma University campus from Agnes. The place is huge! They aim to make it the largest university in Eastern Africa. All I can say is that it’s a long hot hike up to the dorms that would encourage anyone to remember everything they need for class.

Dar/ Zbar: Unfortunately, our bus got stuck in a major traffic jam in downtown Dar and we missed the last ferry out to Zanzibar. We ended up spending the evening in the most posh hotel lounge in Dar with a couple of other young people traveling around Tanzania. At the crack of dawn, we were down by the water searching for the ferry office when a guy pulled us into his ACed office. He took our information and walked out the door – definitely weird. Pete followed him to another row of offices next door and figured out the guy was running a scam: his office is 100 meters from the real ferry office so he can snatch unsuspecting tourists, take their info, buy their tickets, and make a couple extra bucks off them. Not a bad set-up but luckily Pete figured it out. Upon arriving in Zbar, we rushed to the spice tour office and found the owner patiently waiting for us. He led us to two waiting vans and we were off. The rest of the morning was spent looking at various bushes, trees, and vines that produce the major spices we use: cloves, coriander, lemon grass, vanilla pods, curry.

Once we were back in town, we met ‘the scooter guy’, Salim. For some reason, we thought it would take us five hours to get to the North Beaches. Salim assured us it was only one, tops two, hours and we still had plenty of time to make it before sundown. An hour later, we were on the road, driving rented scooters – the bruises and scratches I’d incurred learning to drive my host father’s piki piki were worth it. Driving scooters was a blast! The island is beautiful, lush and green. The people aren’t fascinated by mzungus because they see so many of them, so no cat calls and stares, just smiles and waves. By the time the sun was setting, we were sitting on a fine white sandy beach, sipping bitter lemons, my favourite TZ soda. We ran into a girl from Toronto we’d met on our spice tour the day before and ended up hanging out on the beach. We slapped on 40 lotion and I still managed to get a serious burn. It felt like I had this perma-red glow for a week after. We got back to Stonetown safely and Salim ended up being our tour guide through the winding alleys of the Old City. We were hunting down gifts and he knew all the local shops. Once we hit the tourist district, the prices skyrocketed and we realized how good a deal we’d made. I loved pulling out the little Kiswahili I know to impress the locals and wrangle a better price out of them. Bargaining is definitely the name of the game and most tourists don’t even try – half the fun is arguing over the exorbitant price of a scarf that should really only cost half of what they’re asking. Our time on Zbar came to a close much too quickly and then we were on our way to a team meeting in Arusha.

2 DOWN, 1 MORE TO GO!

Unbelievable! A second semester has already come and gone and I am hours away from leaving on my last extended safari. I’m really looking forward to the next four weeks of travel but I have a lot to be grateful for looking back at the last three months. This semester was far more difficult than the first. As the weeks went by, the only thing that kept me going a lot of the time was the constant encouragement I received from Daniel, my family, and my friends via email, snail mail, or phone. It seemed like the months were just stretching out before me with no end in sight!

My afternoon classes: We agreed to schedule the class a half hour earlier and shorten it to 1.5 hours instead of two in the hope that this would encourage my students to show up more regularly. The first weeks, the level of enthusiasm is always higher than at the end and most of the class showed up. But once the mid-terms were completed, attendance went downhill. I had long conversations with the Principal and the Academic Dean about what I could do to improve the class, lessons, etc. But nothing seemed to make a difference. The breaking point came when my class decided en masse not to attend one afternoon because they needed to rest – this after a stat holiday the day before!

But all the frustrations and discouraging moments pale in comparison to the bright lights I’ve discovered among my students. They are the ones who push me to be a better teacher and to pass on as much of my knowledge as possible. We ended the semester with a drama exercise: each group had to write their own ‘story’ and present it to the class. My highlight was the re-enactment of ‘Samson and Delilah’. They did such a fabulous job rewriting the biblical text and acting it out for the rest of the class. They even pulled together some props and costumes. Hanania, who played Samson, was sporting a wig made up into a fro! It was priceless!

This past Sunday, our village/ school was hit by the strongest storm I’ve ever experienced! Gusting winds, pelting rain, fearsome thunder! I sat next to the wall in my room in case the wind blew the roof off, that’s how bad it was. The next morning, I received a call from Principal to survey the damage. I had to see it to believe it: the roofs of our dining hall and one of the students’ homes were blown right off and the twisted metal lay metres away. The front awning of a staff member’s home had been pushed right over the top of the main roof. Thankfully, no one was injured, although the student in question was in his home together with his family and several students, studying for final exams. We’re fortunate the storm hit when it did – the students were preparing to leave the next day after writing their last exam.

The College had no emergency funds to pay for the iron sheets needed to recover the roof of both the dining hall and the damaged homes. On top of this, the Kanisa Menonnite wa Tanzania was having their bi-annual conference at the school that same week with over 150 pastors from all over Tanzania expected to participate. And then the unthinkable happened: the local Member of Parliament came to survey the damage and pledged 1 million Tanzanian shillings (approx. CA$ 800) and 200 iron sheets to repair the roof. What an unexpected answer to prayer! God is good – all the time! All the time – God is good!

Prayer Request: I’m travelling to the TZ capital of Dodoma Tuesday for a few days to visit some fellow MCCers. I’ll be heading to Zanzibar for some R&R before we have our team meeting in Arusha on Good Friday. My mum arrives in Nairobi on April 15th – yay! We’ll spend a week in Cape Town with my aunt and return to TZ to meet my host family and fellow staff, see Nyabange and Musoma, maybe squeeze in a short safari to the Serengeti. There’s a lot of travel involved, travel arrangements can change on a dime, and transportation is notoriously unreliable. Please pray that everything will go smoothly and there are no major hiccups.

Family Safari

I thought a new blog might be in order as my malaria story might be making some of you queasy by now! I promise this one will be upbeat and positive, no gross details.

I had one day’s notice that we’d be visiting my host mum’s family in a small town called Nyarero, about two hours drive from here. We tried to get an early start but didn’t hit the road until 10am. The small 4x4 was loaded with groceries my host parents had purchased the day before for their family. My host father managed to secure his company’s vehicle for the day and because he hasn’t driven a vehicle in quite some time we had the company driver chauffeur us. What a welcome change to be in our own vehicle with air conditioning instead of a stuffy overloaded dalla dalla! I certainly appreciated it. After a brief stop in the “big city” of Tarime, we hit the red dirt road at full speed. I have no idea how we stayed on the road. There were huge potholes and exposed rocks all along the road. We blew past men riding bicycles loaded with three or four whole banana branches. We were in the middle of banana country, banana trees everywhere. We arrived at Nyarero around noon.

I was introduced to my Tanzanian grandmother, Mama Deborah, a few of her 9 children, and several of her grandchildren. We were seated inside her house and munched on some of the smallest sweetest bananas you’ve ever tasted, straight from the backyard! Mama Deborah and one of her grandchildren occupy this mud house consisting of a large bedroom/ storage, one small bedroom, an even smaller storage room, and the living area. The whole house couldn’t be more than a couple hundred square feet. My host parents helped pay to construct her home after the other one collapsed during a storm, a fairly common occurrence with the mud structures most people here live in. Tanzanians are ingenious when it comes to making the most of what’s at hand.

My host father took me on a tour of the area. For all you (Mennonite) history buffs, Nyarero used to be the location of a fairly large and thriving Mennonite mission compound. The grounds must have been several hundred kilometers in size with various buildings scattered throughout. The building directly across from Mama Deborah’s property used to be a school compound for the missionary kids. My host father remembers how the place used to look like and all he could do was shake his hand. For whatever reason, most of the buildings have fallen into serious disrepair and disuse since the Mennonite missionaries handed over everything to the local Mennonite church. We walked the length of the grounds to the top of a hill and found a classic Western-looking church standing there. My host father explained that the buildings nearby used to be a hospital with a maternity ward, the only one of its kind in the area, allowing women from the surrounding villages to receive excellent care. Now, they either have to brave a bumpy journey into the city or have their baby at home.

Upon our return, even more of my host mum’s relatives had shown up and when I sat down on the grass, I was surrounded by a group of curious children whispering “mzungu” under their breath. Mama Deborah quickly came to my rescue and reprimanded them. “Say ‘Shikamoo, mwalimu’!” (“Greetings, teacher”). They instantly obeyed and chimed in unison “Shikamoo, mwalimu”. Over the next hour, we said goodbye to everyone, took some family pictures (everyone crowded around, fascinated by the camera’s ability to instantly show them the picture), and headed home. But not before my host father showed Mama Deborah how to use her new cell phone. It was an amusing sight: Mama Deborah trying to follow my host father’s instructions on how to make a phone call and send a text message. Even at 60, she was quite quick to pick it up!

What a day…

I'm a real Tanzanian! Warning:

My apologies for my online absence for over a week but this time I have a legitimate excuse. It only took seven months but I finally got malaria this past week. Yup, those anti-malarials I’ve been taking faithfully every morning since touching down in Africa failed me. In all fairness, the box does have a disclaimer stating it’s only 99% effective. The longer you stay in a malaria zone, the higher your chances of it taking hold at some point.
I woke up Thursday morning feeling ok but by early afternoon I was in bed with a serious fever, at least, I hoped that was all it was. I spent the night wrapped in a fleece jacket, yoga pants, and socks under a quilt, freezing. The next minute, I was so hot, I could barely stand having a sheet on top of me. Coupled with frequent trips to the bathroom, let’s just say I had a rough night. The next morning, I announced to my host parents I had malaria and would they be able buy some malaria medication for me. My host father and my boss insisted I get tested first and I agreed. We took a taxi to a private clinic – it was very clean and well-run, reassuring to me in my state of illness. Well, I managed to get through the blood test but as I waited for the results, I got seriously nauseous. The last thing I remember was hanging over the rail trying to keep steady and then I was sitting on the floor. My host parents picked me up and leaned me against the railing and I collapsed again. This time, the doctor and a nurse joined in to carry me to a nearby bed. I think that’s the first (and second) time I’ve ever fainted...
Turns out, my glucose levels were too low and my heart rate was sky high. I hadn’t eaten much for the last 24 hours because I had no appetite. The doctor immediately put me on a glucose drip and, lucky me, I got to spend the rest of the day in hospital. I was well-taken care of: my host parents stayed with me for most of the afternoon and my boss plus some other co-workers dropped by on their way to town to check on me. My host mum went home to get me some fruit, chai, and fresh juice in an effort to perk me up and get me eating again. One of my students accompanied her and both of them made certain I was comfortable and had everything I needed. Thankfully, my stay did not involve a hospital gown  The doctor let me go later that evening and I was just happy to be home again and in my own bed. What was supposed to be a quick visit to the clinic to get a malaria test and some medication turned into an all-day affair. As far as hospital experiences go, this one was pretty good although I’m not keen to repeat it any time soon.
Saturday morning, I woke up to find my co-workers and students waiting to visit me. By early afternoon, I’d welcomed a steady stream of well-wishers. They were all concerned after it was announced in chapel that their English teacher was in hospital. I reassured them I was on the mend and thanked them for their prayers. Then the rash hit, big red spots that spread all over my body and itched like crazy! At first, I thought I’d have to go back to the clinic immediately. Then I calmed down and texted another team member who’s a nurse. I guessed (correctly it turns out) that I was having an allergic reaction to the malaria medication I had popped that morning. Sure enough, it turns out I’m allergic to sulfa. Who knew? All my life, I thought I wasn’t allergic to anything and it takes getting malaria in Tanzania and being prescribed the one malaria medication that has sulfa in it to discover my allergy! 24 hours later, the red spots disappeared and I was feeling relieved that the worst of my ordeal was now behind me.

I returned to class the following Monday, much to everyone’s amazement (I think my students were hoping for a longer English break :-). The internet’s been acting wonky for over a week so I didn’t have a chance to email anyone, including my mum, about what was happening. Now you’re up to date on the latest. I am so thankful for all the prayers that were offered up on my behalf, even if you didn’t know what was going on. I know that God had a clear hand in bringing me to the hospital when He did. I am so blessed to have people here and at home who care so much about me and take such good care of me. Thank-you!

I saw the top two African killer animals...

And lived to tell about it! I can finally check off a tour of the Serengeti from my bucket list. It was beginning to be a bit embarrassing – to think that I’ve lived within a few hours’ drive of one of the most amazing game reserves in the world these past six months and it took me this long to see it. I have Kurtis and Carla to thank. I spent the past weekend with them and they suggested we go for a game drive. We hit the road before the crack of dawn and watched the sun rise over the Serengeti plains. As we drove along, we saw the shapes of giraffes, antelope, and elephants pass us by. The next five hours consisted of driving along various designated tracks and keeping a sharp lookout for anything that moved. Peter remarked how cool it would be to see a hippo out of the water for a change and, wouldn’t you know it, out walked the biggest hippo you have ever seen! He lumbered into the road on his stubby little legs, turned his head towards us, gave us this look of disgust, turned his rump in our direction, and shuffled right back to where he’d come from. Hard to believe that something so huge can walk on legs that short and be considered the second most dangerous animal in Africa. We continued on our merry way when, all of a sudden, I spotted something dark to our right. Kurtis hit the brakes and up popped three black heads – Cape Buffalo, the most dangerous animal in all of Africa! They are easily recognizable by their unique set of horns propped on top of their heads. They are completely fearless and will charge at the slightest hint of danger instead of running away like most animals. We sat in hushed silence, taking a few pictures before slowly driving away.

As we drove onto the vast Serengeti plains, we spotted a herd of about 30 elephants making their way slowly to a fresh feeding ground. The largest female took the lead and directed the others. It was quite the sight to behold as they moved majestically as one group, the newborns in the midst of the pack for protection. They crossed right in front of us without giving us a second glance. And then we hit the jackpot! Peter thought he saw some lions in the distance tracking a kill and, slightly to the left, some dark shapes were slinking away. His guess was cheetahs, a rare sighting! The lions were too far away but we were determined to see the cheetahs. The only way to do that was to follow a “path” off the main track. We were able to drive right up beside five (!) cheetahs lounging under a bush, keeping an eye on the lions in the distance. Some time later, we came across the same pride of lions taking it easy near a riverbed. One of the lionesses was taking her sweet time following the others and just as we stopped, she decided to catch up to the others. She walked right by our car window!!! Man, she was all muscle and, up close, her head looked completely out of proportion to the rest of her body – it was huge! She looked fierce.

A word of advice: If you’re ever in the Serengeti and are having trouble finding animals, just survey the horizon and find several safari vehicles at a standstill – you’re guaranteed to see something. We turned the corner of a pile of rocks and nearly slammed into about five safari vehicles crowded around one tree. We had no clue what they were looking at. Peter leaned out his window and asked another safari guide what was so interesting. A leopard, the guide casually replied, as if this was an everyday occurrence. We freaked! Just to give you an idea how rare a leopard sighting is, Carla has been living in Africa on and off for over 20 years and has never seen a leopard. The leopard was so well-disguised unless you knew where he was hanging out in the tree, you’d completely miss him. We just sat and stared in awe, waiting for the slightest movement to give us a better look.

What a day! We ended off by lunching and swimming at a nearby safari lodge. It was exhausting and exhilarating to have seen so much in one day. Our first safari tour and we’d seen just about every animal imaginable!

No News is Good News

I’ve been gently reminded that I have not posted any new entries since mid-January and people may be curious to know what I’ve been up to for the last month or so. Well, I’ve been up to my eyeballs in school work and loving it! It’s not a good excuse but the three courses I’m teaching this semester have definitely filled up all the free time I seemed to have to let you know what’s been happening. Again, my sense of admiration for all teachers continues to grow as every teaching day passes. The amount of time that goes into simply prepping a lesson and then marking the homework that you’ve assigned is often mind-boggling. I can tell you I’ve become a lot more efficient with my time; my days of procrastination are behind me. Part of being a good teacher is being prepared a week in advance, enough time to get together any teaching materials I might need and catching the photocopier on a good day, ie. it’s cooperating and the power is on, two key ingredients 

We just completed mid-term exams last week and I was encouraged by the overall rise in marks among my students. I have a sneaking suspicion they might have studied some this time around. I have really enjoyed the English class I was assigned this semester in addition to the two afternoon classes. It’s a writing-intensive course that is meant to prepare the Diploma I students to write solid research papers in English. We’ve gone over the different kinds of paragraphs and are now delving into composition writing with the standard format of introductory paragraph, body, and closing paragraph. I’m constantly having flashbacks to my elementary school days of trying to come up with a good topic sentence, not to mention a complete report.

I had an enlightening discussion with my advanced English class before the mid-term break. I was beginning to feel frustrated with the lack of participation and my inability to engage my students. I had exhausted just about every creative English learning activity I could think of when I decided to ask them again what they wanted to do during our class. I’d tried this several times before and had only received blank stares; I had no idea what to expect. I was pleasantly surprised by the number of suggestions they gave me and the amount of good ideas they came up with. Turns out they want to learn English through drama. They love to act but have no opportunities to put their gifts and talents to good use. I had no idea! I had never seen any of them perform a skit or drama during chapel and here they were telling me this is what they want to do and they’d love to put on some sort of play for the rest of the school to see. Our final semester project has all of the students working in small groups, writing and then performing their skits for the rest of the class. If all goes well, we’ll be doing more of the same in our next semester.

Overall, this teaching assignment has been a roller coaster ride with good days and bad days, moments of sheer excitement and complete disappointment. Through it all, I’m learning not to be so easily discouraged and to focus on the positive, especially when it feels as though everything I taught in the previous lesson has been forgotten. Learning is a long-term process, as my brother, Phil, reminded me. I may not see many results instantly but I can walk away knowing I passed on as much of my knowledge as I possibly could and what my students do with it is up to them. Relying on God is the most important part of my “survival strategy”, spending time every morning in prayer and facing the day with the knowledge that I am not alone in my daily struggles of teaching and living in a foreign culture. Your thoughts and prayers are also an endless source of encouragement to me. Thank-you!

"Happy Birthday..."

I'm pretty sure this is the first time I have ever celebrated my birthday in a hot climate, and what a day it was! I had a wonderful wake-up call from Daniel early early Friday morning (I think he just wanted to be the first one to say 'Happy Birthday' to me and he was) and after I taught my morning class, I enjoyed TZ donuts my host mum had made for me the night before. I kind of ruined the surprise because I figured out what she was making and wanted to see exactly how it's done. They were delish!

My host family insisted I invite a few friends to join us for dinner and I had no idea what to expect. Birthdays aren't a big deal out here and we spent some time talking about how we celebrate birthdays at home. The next thing I knew, there were balloons hanging in our living room, the table was covered in delicious food, fresh fruit, home-made juice, and a real birthday cake with icing and everything! My contribution was a large batch of London Fog (thanks to Eden fro providing the recipe, tea, and vanilla syrup). It was a huge hit! My host mum couldn't get enough of it :) Rachel and Hazel (the SILers who taught with me last semester) showed up along with Theo, Fred, and Carren. It was a full house but we all managed to squeeze in to enjoy a great evening. The kids sang 'Happy Birthday' for me, we all sang a hymn together before my host father gave a little welcome and Theo prayed for the meal. We were all stuffed by the end! My host mum is a great cook and she proved again last night...

Phew, what a great birthday! I know I'll never have one quite like it again. God is good!!!

Heri ya mwaka mpia!

That's 'Happy New Year' in Kiswahili. I spent a quiet evening with my host family, playing Phase 10 (my host sisters are huge card game enthusiasts) and watching the Tanzanian President Kikwete give his New Year's address to the nation. At midnight, we stood outside the house and waved in greeting to the New Year. I still find it hard to believe that the calendar has already changed over and the first half of my SALT year is nearly complete.

I spent the past three weeks away from Nyabange and everything that has become so familiar to me. My journey to Mugumu went well minus the delay due to the bus getting stuck on the side of the dirt road. It took a sympathetic dump truck driver to get us out. My week-long stay with Kurtis, Carla, Ben, Aaron and Carla's sister, Jo, was relaxing and a welcome culinary respite. I don't think French Toast, cookies, and brownies (among many other Mzungu specialties) ever tasted as good to me! I had a chance to visit one of my student's doing her field study at the nearby hospital and began interviewing the HIV/AIDS Program directors for the website I was working on.

We spent all day Sunday driving to Nairobi with a full load of passengers and baggage, speeding along tarmac roads and bumping along a 'highway' that has been under construction for as long as anyone can remember. Our retreat took place high up in the Kenyan Highlands outside Nairobi. It was strange to wear a fleece in the middle of the day or even don a pair of pants for the cool evenings. I spent a lot of time catching up with my fellow SALTers from Uganda and Ethiopia, discussing teaching experiences and swapping stories. We all came to the same conclusion: even with the homesickness and occasional illness, change in diet and lifestyle, new culture and language, we have fallen in love with East Africa and most of us are determined to come back some day.

My vacation highlight was waiting for me that Friday in Nairobi: Daniel arrived the night before and I was eager to leave first thing to go and see him. We had an emotional reunion and it took a couple days for it to sink in that he was actually in Tanzania with me. Our week by the Indian Ocean with our MCC Tanzania Team was incredible – we had a chance to do some snorkeling and laze around on a sand island in the middle of the ocean, go for long walks, swim in waters as warm as a bath, and wait for our burns to turn into tans! We spent Christmas lazing by the pool and wondering how everyone at home was coping with the large amounts of snow.

We arrived safely in Nyabange where we were welcomed home by my entire host family. It was a great homecoming! I realized how much I missed being here and how this place has become like a second home. The next two days were spent introducing Daniel to my fellow staff members and other friends in the area. Daniel also had a chance to experience the dalla dallas first-hand and lived to tell about it. I showed him around Musoma Town, pointing out all the 'sites' like the airport, the bus stand, the market, the main street, the hospital, and the internet café. We managed to squeeze in a visit with the Academic Dean's family as well as with Theo (the Principal) and his family.

I was thrilled that all my weeks of planning went so well and that we were able to make it all the way out to the other end of the country so I could share first-hand with Daniel where I'm spending my year. It was tough to say good-bye for the second time but it was worth every minute spent together!

PS: There should be some new pics on the blog very soon! Keep your eyes peeled…