Life without the Bridge

Life Without the Bridge

It's been a while since the bridge washed away, and I am noticing a few things.

1. The small, local dukas have less on the shelves. Which is a drag as we only have small, local dukas to buy what we need, unless we're willing to travel to Morogoro, or another smaller village which may or may not have something worth the trip. 

2. There are very few eggs in the village,and those that are here are almost double the price, but yet the same size. And if it's a bad egg, no refund.

3. Monday Market is a bust. There is a roving market, and our day is Monday, hence the name. There are always onions and tomatoes, greens and okra, which I would rather die than eat. Usually there are bananas, and sometimes mangoes. But because everything needs to be walked across the river, and you just never know if it will be high or low, most of the vendors stay home. Yesterday I saw Sion and Alec, two docs from the UK,coming back from the market, and I rushed up with my newly repaired basket (ever hopeful I would fill it with goodness from the earth). They had some wilted greens, lemons, some chili peppers and okra. I turned around and put my basket away.

4. Going to Morogoro is now an ordeal with a fairly high gruel factor, a term coined by my friend Janet in reference to travel in Africa. It's never easy, but now it's got a few additional steps. The first two are walking down to the river, and crossing it. Then, depending on the water lever, changing your pants. The rest of the trip to Morogoro is the usual 2 hours. On the way home you get to walk from the road to the river laden with your purchases. Then you repeat the crossing and getting back up the hill. I take a pikipiki at this point. It's a long day, but at least you have food.

5.When the water level is up, kids living across the river miss school. 

6. Admissions at the hospital are about half what they should be. Isaac has enough trouble paying the employees on a regular month, so this is a disaster.

7. Folks who rely on the bridge to transport their charcoal,maize, and whatever else they sell now either don't go, or need to pay men to carry it across. I just had the school courtyard cemented in, as it's a mess during the rainy season, and every bag of cement needed to be cried over, as well as all the other supplies.

8. I have hit a new personal low food wise. Yesterday I opened a can of Egyptian tuna, which is all the bits that don't make it into the good tuna cans, drained the oil, mixed it with ketchup, and had it on crackers. 

Re: the rains

8. All the roads that were previously just really bad are now impassable by car and the more rural villages can only be accessed by pikipiki. 

9. On a positive note, everyone who has a maize crop, which is everyone, is growing a ton of maize. So everyone will be eating. Ugali is made from ground maize, and free from most of those pesky nutrients we in the US all worry so much about.  It is, however, filling, as only a soccer ball sized  lump of carbs can be, so no one will be hungry.
10. When it really rains hard, the classrooms get so dark we can't read or see the board, so we send the kids home before the lightning comes, and it does. More school missed.

11. We lose electricity during rainstorms, and this is the rainy season, so power goes out frequently.

But in the end, there is the maize, so no matter how bad it is, there's always ugali. This year should be a bumper crop, and they don't have electricity anyway, so my personal woes are immaterial to them, as they should be. Sion, Alec and I are going into Morogoro on Saturday, planning to load up on fruits and veggies. I may be sitting in the dark, but I'll have mangoes.

Yet Another Conversation I Will Only Have In Africa

Just the other day I was thinking I hadn't written in a while. It's been pretty humdrum of late, nothing new or exciting; school, sleep, bad food, the usual. But God does provide, doesn't he?

We were in class this morning, happily correcting grammar and getting hungry for lunch, when Teacher Beatrice stuck her head in and said there was a problem outside, in front of the school. A group of locals were shouting and disturbing the students. Apparently they had caught some thieves, and the crowd was trying to decide whether to beat him or fire him. To the uninitiated, getting fired means losing your job, at least it does in America. Here it means having a gasoline soaked tire thrown over your head and lit, while the crowd stands around watching, cheering, and reaffirming their belief that the son of a bitch had it coming. Marshmallows optional.

On approach I saw three dirty, shirtless men, with their hands tied, surrounded by about 50 folks, including the pastor. Seems the vote was split 3 ways, some opting for firing (or necklacing), some just wanting to beat the holy hell out of him, and a kinder, gentler portion wanting to take him to the village elders.

This is what is left of the bridge to Berega. It was washed away in the flash flood.

My concern was for the kids, as this was happening right in front of the school, and it was coming up on lunchtime and recess. I approached and greeted everyone (greetings mandatory, even if murder is imminent) and requested that if they truly planned to beat or God forbid, fire the men, possibly they could move the venue up or down the road, just anywhere away from the kids. All that smoke, screaming and charred flesh right in the middle of the road when the kids get out of school. Life is tough, but this is ridiculous. I can't believe some of the conversations I have here. And you are all welcome to volunteer, where you, too, can have bizarre discussions about things that would never concern you anywhere but here.

A few minutes later Mbuli told me, in very good English, that yesterday, in Morogoro, there was an unsuccessful attempt to heist a motorbike. Pole sana for the thief, mob justice did prevail and he was fired. I guess he lost his job as well. The judge and jury did, however, take this poor schmuck about 30 km out of town, where they beat him to within an inch of his life, piled wood on him, and set him ablaze. It's technically illegal to fire up a human, so they left town to avoid the police, who normally do nothing unless it's right under their noses. Ruth later confirmed this story, they were driving home when it happened, and saw the flames.

Don't get me wrong, I would neither encourage this, nor want to witness it, but hearing about it does not horrify me anymore. This should be obvious by the way I talk about it. Most of my warm fuzzy has been rubbed off, and this is what's left. Besides, there's not a person here who doesn't know what can happen if they get caught, and from a very young age.

We discussed this with the kids, and a majority think it's definitely wrong to beat a man to death over something sometimes as insignificant as a watch. Now a bag of maize is another story, steal a family's food and you should only hope to live, in whatever shape they leave you. But there is hope, the younger generation seems a little less bloodthirsty. This may change with time, though, when they find out it's impossible to get a policeman to respond without paying him. I say this secure in the knowledge that no policeman will ever read this, or make the effort to come up here to confront me.

Preparing to cross the river.

Most folks here are gentle and reasonable, but all it takes is a few… I will remind you that the pastor was there, although in what capacity I am unsure. What was stolen was some musical equipment used for church services, and according to Ruth, you can still be counted a Christian and be part of the mob. Ruth is my source of all things cultural, and a good Christian. The thieves were eventually taken to the village elders, after a sound and satisfying beating by anyone caring to participate. Ruth said they also pinch the thieves' penises, which seems a bit excessive, but mob rule is just that, a group of normally decent folks who have temporarily lost their brains.

I personally have had three phones, a wallet, money, batteries, my bicycle handlebars, and countless slippers stolen from my house/ bag/ yard. A friend once offered to kill anyone who stole from me in his village (about a 10 km range). I declined, however if they stole a bag of maize…. So that was yesterday, and I have had time to think. Although I have never been a proponent of capital punishment, I do understand that all countries have their ways of dealing with criminals. In America, we try and convict people before killing them, and still sometimes an innocent person is executed. Here, where the law is ineffectual, corrupt, and just generally doesn't give a damn, the judge and jury is frequently the folks who catch the bad guy. Again, sometimes the wrong guy is killed. It's really not that different. Just because we exact justice in a more "humane" manner, doesn't mean the guy is any less dead. Personally, I don't agree with it anywhere, but I understand the frustration which drives people to such extreme measures.

Crossing on a good day.

So let's move from what happened outside the school to what's happening inside, which is by far more life affirming. We spent the last week reorganizing, trying to fit 110 kids into the same space we've had since we started. We're full to the gills, but functioning. The kids are doing so well, and having a great time. Our methods are far removed from the norm here, but that's why it works. Generally we do the exact opposite of what the govt schools do, and as I was perusing the syllabus the other day I realized that we have, for the most part, accomplished all the goals set up by the Ministry of Education. So it's going to be a great year. We do have a few kids who need extra help, but it's only 3 months into the year, so I have no worries. We have amazing preschool teachers, and by the time these kids get to Std 1 they can add, subtract, read and write (in 2 languages). So asante sana Teacher Martha, Teacher Pasiana and Teacher Pascalina.

Ann was here for a couple of months, and she found scholarships for 19 kids who need them. Those, added to the ones we already have, give us about 1/3 of our student body on full or partial scholarship. So tunashukuru sana for all those who donated. We also got donations for books, so all of Std 1,2 and 3 have textbooks. A woman from the UK ran a marathon last year and donated money for the tables and chairs we desperately needed. Why all the books and extra desks, when kids in other schools in Tz have no books and sit 4 to a desk? Why are we so fortunate? Should I be sharing the wealth? Is that fair to them? I don't care. Those schools are failing, and we are not, and don't intent to. We would love to help the govt schools, but that would be like reviving that thief under the pile of wood 30 km outside of Morogoro.

I teach all the Math an English for Std 1,2 and 3. Teachers Gile and Beatrice teach everything else. Our interactive methods were new to them, but they're liking it just fine, and are happy here at St. Mary's. The day goes by fast, the kids laugh and enjoy themselves, and nobody is afraid of their teachers. Some of the warm fuzzy does come back everyday as I teach, which keeps me here.

St. Mary’s School, 2014.

One snag is trying to get the parents to get up off the school fees. We've been forced to get tough with the parents, and at the end of the month, if a parent hasn't paid, we send the kid home. Then, by some miracle, the money comes in the next day. We don't like to go that route, but we have teachers to pay and kids to feed. So there you go.

Our toilets are unearthly. There are 2 choos and 110 kids. But Brad has agreed to let us construct additional toilets outside, which should alleviate most of the pushing and shoving, and some of the smell. Thanks Brad.

Some great news! My son Asa, his wife Sarah, and my grandkids Ayla and Jove, will be here mid April. Asa will stay 3 weeks, but Sarah and the kids till July. This is gonna be fun. The kids will go to our school, and Sarah will help teach. Sarah, I've got a couple of kids in dire need of one on one math help, you're gonna love it. I imagine Ayla won't be here but a few days before they've got all her hair in plaits, and possibly Jovie as well.

It has been made clear to me, by everyone in Berega, that I got very, very fat in the US, which is a source of pride here (theirs, not mine). Being fat is preferable to being thin, as being fat means you can afford to eat, and you are healthy. So I am rich and healthy, very rich and healthy, but that's ok, in a few months it will be gone. Priscilla's mom invited me to eat with them this afternoon, as I was walking home. They were eating ugali and dagaa, a ball of starch and small, pungent dried fish with eyes. She offered in jest, it's well known in the village that I would sooner starve than eat dagaa. I tried it once, and inatosha (it was enough).

Still looking for travel buddies for July, August and September. Just let me know.

Have fun, eat well, and can someone possibly send me some marshmallows? I've been craving s'mores.