When I was in the PC office in Dar, getting checked out medically, on my way back to the US, Barry asked why I hadn't written on my blog in a great while. The answer: a lot has been happening and I've hardly found the time to think let alone write what I'm going through.

I am writing this entry from my home in Ithaca, NY. I officially concluded my Peace Corps service on June 4th 2009. I could no longer justify to myself, the taking of the malaria medications that go against my fundamental health philosophy. Basically, after I failed Mefloquine (everyone who's been on it knows why that drug is problematic) it was like dominoes coming down. Doxycycline was dangerous for me, and Malarone...Well, I wouldn't take it for more than 28 days folks.

Anyway, I believe I made the right decision. I only have one body to pollute, so I'm extremely sensitive to changes in my physical condition. Unfortunately, I'm still on drugs (Primaquine to kill malaria in my liver), but at least I am not having suicidal dreams or violent thoughts toward my cat Nyuki. Yeah, those are the reasons Mefloquine stopped being an option.

So, leaving TZ was an unreal experience, but everyone in the PC office was extremely supportive, especially Thomas, our Program Director for Education. I've been telling everyone not to be too sad about my leaving early, because it's not an ending really. I'm planning on having a long, meaningful relationship with Tanzania. There is much work to be done in the health sector, and I think it's high time that I begin specializing in doing what I know I'm meant to do. Medicine.

I've just called a radiologist in my area and I'll be able to learn more about medical imaging. I'm applying to volunteer positions at the local health clinics. I'm also volunteering my time for high school students who need tutoring in physics. Other hours of the day are devoted to chilling with my folks and relaxing because speaking so much English is exhausting.

Well I'll be closing this blog, but it's ok, because now I can devote time and bandwidth to using youtube, and new blogs. There is much to show the world about my experience in Tanzania.

In March we also received a visit at Kayuki from one of the PC Education Program Directors. Among the exchanges, we were gifted about 50 Haughton Mifflin reading books, 10 copies of Charlotte's Webb and a childrens' reading level biography on Martin Luther King Jr.

The Haughton Mifflin books really make learning come alive. Some teachers worried that all the pictures might dissuade students from actually reading. Maybe, but I'm glad that students are able to salivate with interest over exotic images, and decide that there is a lot to learn about in the world.

So thanks Ubalozi wa kimarekani (American Embassy)

Those words do well to describe the progression of my life. I high school, I ran cross country, and in track I did the 1500m, the high jump, pole vault, and the 400m, never settling on one at which I was best. I also played lacrosse, rowed on the crew team, and started a rugby club. That's just sports we're talking about...

So, when I decided that I would become a physician and specialize in biological science, it was a big deal.

But since then I've been the (elected) president of a Chinese culture club, a full time waiter, a photographer, a poet, an a teacher. I lived in Guatemala, China's Zejiang province, and, currently the southern highlands of Tanzania. In college, I did research in cell biology, but that hardly made me a specialist.

I was terrible at physics in college. I never took the course in high school (AP bio instead), and my algebraic reasoning ability was pretty much shot when I started the course junior year. Now I teach physics, but I'm not likely to become an engineer, until maybe, I finally get the hang of calculus. I'm an electrician now too.

Asi es la vida, hivyo ilivyo

February 6th 2009

I finally bought much needed supplies in Tukuyu before heading back to school. At the stand in Tukuyu, I learned the reason why I still hadn’t seen my friend David (the guy who saved my drum). He died. Sometime that day, one of my best Tanzanian friends said goodbye to his mortal coil. I hadn’t seen him at the hospital since he told me that he’d come to visit me “siku yoyote” which means “any day.” Fuck!

I shed a few tears before boarding a daladala headed in the direction of school. About a minute away from Kayuki, the rear left wheel came off and we began to slide. I was sitting in the front, next to the driver and I felt the car sliding toward the other lane that was home to a large oncoming truck. Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed the wheel. I did not have the urge to swerve; in fact, I forced the driver to not swerve. I held the wheel steady, easing it away from the right lane only ever so slightly. As our dala started moving away from the on coming truck, the driver pushed my hand off the wheel. Who knows if what I had done really helped? I do know that if we had hit that truck, my brains would have been sifted through the windshields of both vehicles. Whatever.

That was the span of about forty-five minutes. I heard that someone close to me, someone young, a friend had died, and then I almost ate it myself in a car accident.

What a day huh?

The following day, I went to David’s funeral. I wanted to eulogize him, I wanted to tell the story about how he taught me how to say, “I’m going to hang out with my friend” in local Nyakusa language. Or, about the time he rescued the djembe I bought in Zanzibar. Unfortunately the funeral seemed very rushed, and there is a certain way of doing things here. All I know is that the time was never right for me to stand up in front of everyone and deliver a eulogy of sorts. And that bothered me. As we ate the traditional funeral food, kande (corn cooked with beans), I told these stories to all who were nearby, and I felt a little better.

I got too much sun. I didn’t get burned, but I feel depressed and angry and I bet part of it has to do with that I spent nearly the entire day out in the sun. Yeah, and maybe it’s because I’m seriously questioning what I’m doing here right now. Nearly dying puts things in perspective.

We made mushrooms! With help from the spawn produced by Gerald Mgaya in Mbeya, Osen, Michael and I all worked together to start producing oyster mushrooms.

Inputs: a steel oil drum, 2 meters of plastic sheeting, fire wood, 7 plastic shopping bags, a bushel of dry banana leaves, some twine, rubber cord, three jars of mycelium spawn incubated on wheat (from Gerald’s TANMUSH lab).

Total cost: about TZsh. 10000 (materials purchased)

(Osen supplied the steel drum, which can be TZsh. 30000-50000)

We used the steel drum to pasteurize the banana leaves after packing them into the plastic bags.

1. Heat about 10 liters of water in the drum

2. Lower the stuffed bags into the drum (note: the more chopped the leaves are, the more mass you can fit into each bag)

3. Cover the top of the drum with the plastic sheeting securing it with the rubber cord. Make sure to leave a small outlet for steam. This can be done by inserting a stick under the plastic and tying the rubber cord so that it holds the stick in place.

4. Boil for about one hour

5. Allow the water to cool and then remove the bags.

6. Inoculate with spawn

7. Place bags in a dark room or box for 1-2 weeks (dark period)

8. After the dark period, move the bags to a dimly lit room

9. We had our first fruiting bodies come out after only a month in one of the bags (Gerald says the mean time he experiences is 3 months)

Hello everyone. Here’s what’s going on in my life.

The second school year began on January 12th, I’ve actually been teaching since the 19th. Since I’m the only physics teacher, I’m teaching forms 1-4. In order to make this manageable, we pared down the form three and four classes to about 35 students apiece. That gives me enough time to teach all of the form one and two students without going absolutely batty. I’m teaching twenty-seven forty-minute periods a week. On Mondays, I also do physics club. I’ve opened the computer room only a couple of times since the start of school. It’s clear that students want to use it, but there is no one on staff who is stepping forward to help out. The headmistress is not responding to my requests to buy five new optical mice, which I can get in Mbeya for 13,000 shillings (about $10). Supposedly some of the money that students pay for school fees is supposed to go to the computer room, but I have yet to be successful in getting those funds into action. The roof over the computer room sprung a serious leak, and some mornings, I find puddles of large sizes in areas with electronic equipment. So I reported that the computer room is not safe to use until we get the roof fixed. We’ll see how long that takes. If you worry too much about sustainability, you’ll find yourself doing nothing. That’s what has become clearer to me over the time I’ve spent here in Tanzania. No, I think that no matter where you are in the world, if you want something done and done well (up to your standards) you either need to delegate to people who are duty bound to carry out your directions or you see the project through to the end yourself. Here, I’m just another teacher, and the goal of the Peace Corps is not to delegate work to foreign nationals or demand that a host country change in any way. So, if we are doing anything, there should be a Tanzanian working side-by-side with us all the way. Hmmm, some of you may remember that I had a great counterpart named Gloria. She was the one who helped make the girls empowerment conference a success last year. She left Kayuki and is now studying at university. Now, I’m sure Peace Corps training has taught me to find another counterpart and to continue on doing community assessments and writing action plans etc. At the moment, everyone is up to their eyeballs in teaching or trying to assume the various administrative positions that are not filled by special personnel, as they would be in the US. I doubt very much that I will develop another fruitful counterpart relationship with any of the other teachers. Maybe I’d be more interested if I weren’t so exhausted from trying to do a great job teaching my students. Ok, now I’m getting depressive.

The point is if you want to see sustainability, you need to look at the big picture. Perhaps, when some of my form four students become secondary school teachers, they will teach with enthusiasm as I have. Maybe, they will bring string and tubs of water and lasers into class with them. Maybe they will turn one of the rooms into a camera obscura. That might be the sustainability in my work right there, right? I truly hope some of the interactions I have had with the people on this Earth has enriched their lives somehow, given them profound thoughts, at least.

This is a shout out to my father Jeffrey Wood, who luckily made it to visit me while I was in Dar. Thanks pop, it was a really relaxing good time with you. Thank you for the laptop (on which I am writing this), and for picking out the remnants of sea urchin spines from my right foot. I can't wait for more visitors.

The school year has started more or less. Less than half of our students have arrived by the end of the first week, so hopefully I will actually begin teaching this Monday. There's a lot on my plate so far this year, yet I feel generally calm about the impending kasheshe (your on the net, look it up). Right off the bat, I worked with a very intelligent and interesting computer fundi to fix three of the bum hard disk drives and two of the mother boards (hence 17 computers are now working). It was a very informative experience, as I've never had any training in how to do these things. I'll be the only physics teacher at school for the beginning of this year but with the blessing of the academic office, I've pared down the form three class to 37 students. This means I can teach all four forms--that's twenty-seven periods--without going absolutely batty. Hopefully, other teachers will take more of an interest in the computer lab so that I won't be the sole overseer in the evening sessions. It'd be great to teach the girls how to use microsoft office or open office; get those of them who won't score highly on NECTA better job opportunities. We'll see.

The mushroom project is still going, albeit slowly, as we are waiting for the mycelia to do their magic within our plastic bags stuffed with pasteurized banana leaves. Villagers are still after me to teach more agriculture, which is good and bad, but I'm glad to have become involved in as many communities as I have already. Peace Corps really needs to use my help/recommendations to put some environmental volunteers around here in Mbeya. Trust me, I know peops.

Ok well, as the title of this entry suggests, I'm looking ahead to this, my last year of service in Peace Corps TZ and also to the medical school future I'm working toward. Since I've only gotten a handful of opinions about my writing, I'm going to abuse the eyes of all unwary blogospherians. The following is a recent essay I wrote trying to answer the questions: why do I want to be a doctor and what qualifies me? It's much too long and thoughts meander (as I do too often in my writing), but take a look see anyway.

-Essay-

I consider the diversity of my life experiences to be my number one credit in applying to medical school. Number two is my personal drive to discover new skills and work at perfecting them. And lastly, to borrow a phrase from Melvin Konner, I have basic human competency that exceeds expectation. Even before I decided to become a doctor at the age of 20, the chapters of my life were stacking up to prove that I would excel in a dynamic, challenging field such as medicine. In high school I labored to balance my academics, athletics, and romantic relationships under weight of a video game addiction. Far from excusing my mediocre record, I think that as a physician, I can shed light on the largely misunderstood world of “gamer” culture. And as I continue to become more interested in the neurological and cognitive research, I believe my ability to use technology effectively, and wide variety of media for expression only strengthens my future role as a healer.

From the age of 16 I worked each summer in order to help family finances. My experiences taught me the value of hard-honest work and compassion for the common working men and women who make up the majority of our society. Living and teaching abroad has introduced me to the world of public health, tropical medicine, the battle against HIV/AIDS and the clinic outside the clinic. I have been awed by the automatic credibility ascribed to my (American) education and the color of my skin. Much in the same way, I am sure, that medical students are shocked by the trust that patients invest in the clean white coat or a pair of scrubs. My enduring commitment to living at the fringe of my comfort zone and my insatiable curiosity for life have led me down many roads, and although I plan to specialize into the medical field—a long, difficult road—I see no reason why I cannot continue to be a renaissance man and a forever student.

These were the words that I emphasized on my first day of teaching physics at Kayuki Girls boarding school in Tanzania. When asked how many students were in the room, the quick pupils raced to finish a head count. Invariably, they all came up with one short. I was also a student, I told them, and will be until the day I die. Teaching the subject that gave me the most trouble in College has given me new insights into my learning style and empowered me to become an even stronger scientist. I learn best by teaching. That much I knew when I arrived at my Peace Corps site. So, when I learned that there were no physics teachers at Kayuki, I jumped at the chance to rediscover a physicist within me. Since then, I have rebuilt computers, repaired domestic electrical wiring and appliances, and built countless teaching aids and scientific apparatuses. I have devoured physics and the challenge of algebraic reasoning, and in doing so, apprehended what previously proved difficult.

When I am not teaching at Kayuki, I often work with The Olive branch for Children, an organization based in Toronto that oversees an orphanage and delivers health care and development aid to poverty stricken villages in Mbeya region. Patience and fluent Swahili served me well when we brought a mobile health clinic to the villages. For ten hours, I explained how to safely administer medicines ranging from Vermox and salbutamol to ciprofloxican and sulfanomide to villagers representing several ethnic tribes. Working ten hours a day, while speaking a language that I learned less than a year ago has always been taxing, but always rewarding when, with evening drifting in, children and parents gather to watch a local HIV/AIDS awareness performance troupe. The giggles of children and raucous laughter of the crowd rise and fall in a rhythm that is purely human. In that sense, I know we are all the same. It is the humanity that I frequently appeal to when forging new relationships with people hailing from every conceivable background.

I was probably the most surprised one among the group. Yes, they said, you should be in the running to be our next GCCC president. GCCC stands for Geneseo Chinese Culture Club, and I did become the president for a year despite the minor fact that I am not ethnically Chinese. It was a haphazard leadership experience, and I often appealed to the rest of the executive board members for help in identifying important events to showcase, and which holidays to observe. Although I might have done a better job as leader, my chief contribution to China Night, the annual dinner and show put on by our club, was a smashing success. For weeks, I had worked to choreograph and teach a kung fu dance based on monkey style pole. Twirling long staves and whipping high-kicks wowed the audience and gave me a satisfaction that kept me elated amidst the stress of overseeing a two hour enactment of the Monkey King. It was my ability to speak diplomatically and on the spot that kept the audience placated during a long delay between the welcome speech and the opening act. This skill came to play in China, as an English teacher and at work in the Asian Restaurant in Boston where I was expected to be cordial but efficient. My service in Africa, likewise, has become full of rewarding relationships. One such relationship changed the way I view a doctor’s role and responsibilities forever.

My mind froze when I first saw her. Stiff-legged—toes pointed almost gracefully, her unfocused eyes scanning the room from beneath her bulging skull—Sylvia sat on the floor. I slowly became self-conscious of my hesitation at the doorway and entered the room. Momentary disbelief caught me wondering how the bones of the cranium can appear to be unfurling like bone flower petals and still constitute the head of a little girl. I held the Sylvia’s hand and tried to understand what little tribal language that she spoke in broken repeats. It pained me to see her loop through it again and again, but her periodic smiles and laughs reminded me that she was almost like any other five-year-old except for her hydrocephalus. Despite my initial uneasiness, as I continually interacted with Sylvia my resolve to become a physician only grew.

At times I struggled, left alone with Sylvia, while her mother tended to the household chores and her son. Sylvia’s mental faculty is limited, but I discovered the soothing power of music could improve her mood. On some occasions, I would change her little gown, wet with urine. Other times, I blew air over her feverish back in the attempt to calm her in a manner that I learned from my mother when I was a five year old. Unfortunately, in my estimation, these attempts to help Sylvia fell terribly short of sufficient. With limited resources, I began to research hydrocephalus shortly after meeting Sylvia. I found that another little girl living mere miles away also had hydrocephalus. Debo as she was called, the daughter of a guard at my school, had a shunt installed by a visiting European doctor when she was one year old. However, when I met her, it was clear that her condition was not favorable. Open sores on her head festered along the path of the plastic tube running under her scalp and down to her abdomen. I cautioned the parents about keeping Debo clean and recommended that they see a doctor, since the shunt had broken the skin. Two weeks later, I was informed that Debo had died. Her parents had lacked the money to bring her to a hospital where she could be treated. Her death was a sad result despite good intentions and economic hardship. I realized that the shunt that was meant to save her life, by relieving pressure on her brain could have been the immediate cause of her demise. Shunts often become clogged, and in an unhygienic environment, become as much a danger as a boon. I couldn’t fathom the prognosis that a doctor formulated in which a two-year-old in rural Tanzania would have a plastic tube implanted into her body and then return to the hospital (an eight hour trip) every three months for monitoring. On the other hand, I couldn’t find it in me to place blame. If pressure continues to increase within the cranium until the brainstem becomes compressed, there would be a funeral much sooner than if infection takes hold. A western doctor had chosen to install the shunt. Complications of living poor and Tanzanian had twisted the outcome. And yet, I wonder, if foresight had been keener would Debo still be alive? There must be a way to plan treatments to better serve low income, patients with adverse lifestyles. What would Paul Farmer do? He would have given the family the money to make frequent trips or he would have kept her at the hospital. Would he decide against surgery? Trying to imagine myself as a physician dealing with Debo’s case, knowing what I know about how economic factors in medical care affect patient outcomes even more than treatment, I may have preferred to forgo surgery. But I have had no training. I only know that good medical care requires integrative conceptualization of a human being, their situation in life.

As a researcher in cell biology, I learned important biochemical techniques. I also became the most proficient user of the new Epiflouresence microscope at my school. Although my research did not yield a publication, my advisor was truly impressed with my skill on the microscope, using integrated computer software to take multi-layer pictures of mitotic spindles in brewer’s yeast. It was a new project, but I was not afraid to build it from the ground up, and improve the school’s capacity to work with and excellent model organism, S. cerevisiae. Since college, I have become more interested in research and plan to engage in head-start research programs available at many medical schools. In particular, research in neurological science is attractive to me.

One of my earliest memories is of me trying to dissect a road-kill garter snake with a serrated steak knife. At the age of three and a half, I was scolded by my mother for dirtying a good knife, but I learned an important lesson. Bodies are too hard to explore with the wrong tools, but much too soft when confronted with a speeding pickup truck. Looking back on the richness of my life experiences, I see that even if I discovered my path toward medicine late in life, my character and skills will make me into a world-class practitioner of medicine.

It has been so long since I last posted on my blog, I was seriously considering scrapping the whole online journal bit. Fortunately, after being on hiatus for about three weeks, electricity came back at site. Good thing too, word on the street was that if electricity didn't come back students would not be able to return because the water we get must be pumped up 80m from the little river at the bottom of the valley. Apparently our electric bill hadn't been paid...ever. Eight million shillings is a decent chunk of change, and somehow, it has been paid, although I'm still fuzzy on the details. The point is, I can type these long entries at school and not have to waste significant cash using an internet cafe machine just to chapa sentensi.

New education volunteers arrived at their sites late November. Mbeya region received six Peace Corps teachers this time around, which means two sites are brand new. Lucky Anita is in a safi-as-hell (so I hear) site right outside of Mbeya Town. Hopefully we'll be organizing a science fair to get female student excited about learning physics and computers. Rock girls empowerment! All I have planned so far is an egg drop contest and a water floom. If you have any ideas, I'm all ears.

I spent the 10-14th of December helping Deborah of Olive Branch for Children deliver contracts to Montesorri school teachers out in the boonies of Mbarali region of Mbeya. The region is the poorest, driest spot I've seen since getting to Africa (haven't been to Dodoma folks). It's also been hit hard by HIV/AIDS. Our 180km bicycle trek over 3 days was inspiring, tranquil, and enlightening all punctuated by meetings with village leaders and impromptu health consultations with wagonjwa. There was an elderly woman who had broken her left femur at the neck of the proximal end. In the US she would probably have hip replacement surgery and get a fine piece of titanium and ceramic. In her case, that's not a likely option. We did the best we could to recommend building parallel bars and later crutches, to help her get off her feet and rehabilitated to some degree. May she find the strength and luck to walk again.

Although the rides were long, they put us out near the edge of human settlement. Any further and we would have been in one of Tanzania's national parks with lions, hyenas, hippos, etc. It also put us in the Wasukuma village of Mwika where we barged in welcomely on a pagan celebration. The cow had alread been slaughter and the were beginning to cook when we arrived. We stayed for a soda and did a little leaping when the appropriate time came (video). It was an amazing experience and even though, on the way home, we were delayed by a flat tire and almost struck by lightning (it was less than 100m away) I'm so glad to have been part of it. On the lightning note, a little girl was killed by it in a nearby village just a few days prior, so it was with somber paranoia that we watched the storm pass.

Vacation is beginning to drag on, and I cannot wait for the arrival of my first guest from home, my father, who'll be staying with me in Dar for a few days. Finally someone from home get's a taste (if only a smidgen) of my life here. Mid Service Conference comes early January. That's right, it has been over one year since I started teaching at Kayuki Girl's Secondary. Basically a lot of health appointments, I'll be excited to see some of the folks who potea'd since training. I'll also get to see Aaron Snow, an old pal from grade-school who transfered to the DDS (Deep Dirty South), after Peace Corps Kenya bailed. It should be somehow fun.

That's all for now. New Year's resolution: be a better blogger.

I say, more than a year has passed since I got to Tanzania. At this day of this lovely (and by lovely I mean dusty and gross) month of October has found me in Dar es Salaam. I arrived on the 20th in order to begin planning for a staff training event. As Chair of the Peer Support and Diversity Network or PSDN I’m working with other key members in order to boost synergy between staff. Hooo hooo. Lack of communication is the number one issue that PCVs sited as producing friction between volunteers and PC HQ in Dar. Now we have to figure out how to lube it up. That is to say, let’s build communication skills. How is this done? How do you run an effective training campaign that will improve the way that a culturally split staff that is about 1/3 American, 2/3 Tanzanian shoot the bull with each other? It’s basically offensive to a Tanzanian to cut out the every day small talk and only talk business. American Staffers seem to become very sensitive to this need and act accordingly, often losing their A-typical work drive. On the other hand, us volunteers often need answers about submitted paperwork: grant applications, leave requests, etc. on a timely basis. Like yesterday.

Our idea for training will be to do a group challenge activity to warm everyone up to the importance of communication skills. The challenge called Crossing the River where everyone needs to cross a wide imaginary river using only 3 moveable cardboard stepping stones all within a 15-20 minute time limit should suit our needs. Of course we can talk about how communication is paramount to completing the task and then segue into talking about barriers to good communication. Probably 95% of communication between PCVs and staff occurs via text message over our cellular telephones, which sets the stage for terrible misunderstanding and frustration. A number of volunteers claim they are being ignored by the Dar office when in fact the messages they sent never even got delivered by the spotty network. Potential for improvement ipo.

Greetings all from the lovely highlands of Mbeya. I have been a bit lax on my blog entries of late, but there's been a lot going on and it's difficult to sit down and clear it all out from my head as frequently and as meaningfully as I'd like. The second term is going along in its average manner. It's not clear exactly how many teachers we'll be losing to the universities this season (they'll be returning to study) but at least two and maybe as many as five. I'll keep on plugging away at school affairs and keep on teaching physics and tending the computer lab. I was excited to hear from my form II students that the physics Mock Exam that they took on the 28th of this month was "not very hard." My best students said it was downright "rahisi." I told them that was a good sign and the reason why I have them busting their butts on my home works and tests. I think they see the method to the madness.

Last week was especially taxing. On Tuesday the 19th the students held a little protest. The day before, students were particularly quiet and tired in class and when I asked why, they complained that they hadn't eaten hardly anything since lunch the previous day. In many Tanzanian schools it sometimes happens that school funds dry up or are used up mysteriously before the end of the school term. When this happens food is one of the first things to go haywire. Part of the problem lies in school fees not being paid on time by the students or not at all. This is why there are often large groups of students absent from school. Anyway, the next day after I heard students weren't being fed enough was Tuesday. Rice day-- for lunch, instead of the usually ugali, which is the common stable, corn flour and water mixed to a stiff but smooshy lump and beans the students get rice and beans. On that day, that the rice was delivered late and students were told that they would eat ugali for lunch and rice would be cooked for dinner. Well, this didn't sit well with the students, and the leaders among them saw a chance to "stick it to the man," so to speak. From my house at the top of the hill, I could hear a rising tide of young female voices like a stampede. I decided I would head down to the office to and investigate on the way. A large group of students were situated on either side of the roadway some holding sticks, chanting and singing "sisi wasichana, tuna weza." Teacher who tried to command the students to move into the dining hall were jeered at in what I thought was a humorous display of young spirit. I have heard stories of how students elsewhere had razed their entire school when school issues were not dealt with satisfactorily. So as a crowd of students enveloped me, I said what I felt. "I think its good to express your views to teachers, but don't destroy your school." In one voice (TZian students somehow speak in unison without warning) they said "hatutaki."Knowing that they probably meant no real harm I continued on my way. When I got down to the office I found 10 students hiding out in the computer room. "They said they'd beat us if we went to eat or went to study in the class rooms," I was told. Other teachers had met in the assistant headmaster’s office and were discussing actions to take. I was told that rice had arrived and was being cooked but the students were still not cooperating. I asked if there was an action plan if the students got violent. "Girls can't do that," they said first, and when I pushed the issue, they said students who did so would be chased from the school. I'm not sure about the mechanism, but about an hour later, the students had quieted down and eaten.

The next day...A fire bomb may as well been thrown through the window of the discipline masters office. Beginning in the morning, a group of students were made to stand 50 paces apart in full sun, presumably until they tattled on the ring leaders of the civil disobedience that had taken place. After, teaching 40 minutes of my first double period of the day, I was interrupted by two student teachers (new arrivals this term). They told me that they wanted to begin the interrogation. I asked if it could be done after the lesson. They said it would take all day. I asked for 5 minutes to conclude. The 5 minutes passed and I asked if there were questions. As I neared the door a girl lobbed one about the rheostat we had been discussing. I began to answer the question when the door to the class opened to reveal the student teachers waiting impatiently. I continued to deliver my answer to one of the precious few questions I get per week, when I heard "mwalimu!" and impatient clicks of the tongue from the doorway. Now, there have been many instances when I have had reason to speak curtly to my fellow teachers but mostly I keep my lips sealed for the sake of preserving the status quo (extremely important). This time, however, the dude could not abide, and as I left the class room I said in a quivery voice, (anger does that to me) "don't ever disrespect me in front of my class ever again, when a student has a

question I mean to answer it. Sorry about your investigation."

I knew the students would be beaten, but I also knew that no teaching would get done for the rest of the day, so I took off to Tukuyu to print a practice exam (pre Mock) that I had planned for the Form IIs. That evening, when I returned, I went to announce to the form IIs that the test was ready and to establish a time to do it. I also went to find out how the investigation went. "Please, teacher we can't do the test tomorrow, our hands won't write and tomorrow the punishment will continue." Fine. On my way to the computer room Martha Mgaya a form IV and former school leader asked me if I had any medicine for a student. My god, the girls wrist looked as though it had been broken it was so swollen she could barely move her fingers. Then another girl with such an arm came to me. Then more and more were asking for "dawa." I zipped home and brought some aspirin. Two of the hardest cases got 4 pills each, 2 for the next morning. The growing horde of others got turned down. There wasn't nearly enough to go around. I felt awful for what had happened and that I hadn't been there to do a thing about it (not that I necessarily could). I resolved to be present for the second round to follow.

What followed was a sort of kangaroo court. Students whose names were mentioned were brought one by one in front of the teachers and the discipline master (also the assistant headmaster) and asked questions like: "why did you sneer at teachers," Why didn't you go to eat lunch? "Who told you to gather outside the dining hall?" etc. These were the questions asked in between beatings. When each girl was called, she first had to make her way past two teachers by the doorway holding sticks. These teachers would take a few surreptitious whacks at the student usually at their backs or sides. Upon entering the room the students were made to stand in chalk circle and face one direction, failure to understand this resulted in more whacks. Now, it is nothing new to see students hit with the fimbo, this day was different however, the day of the gathering, teachers had lost the total control that they usually exercise over the students. In addition, the students were plain disrespectful in the way that they sneered at one teacher in particular, who had earlier been accused by other students of sleeping with their classmate (that case came before the whole teaching body but was dismissed on the fact that the principle prosecutor was "a trouble maker"). Rather quickly the whacks with the fimbo were punctuated by hard handed slaps to the face and side of the head. One girl came through the door and was immediately slammed on the floor by the teacher accused of sleeping with students afore mentioned. Girls were beaten when they were down, kicked, kneed, all the while being interrogated; wide eyed and terrified they found it difficult to answer.

It was not merely the violence of the whole affair that was difficult to bear (although my adrenaline levels spiked several times during the 5 hour ordeal), but it was the particular relish that the teachers seemed to get out of asserting their authority in such a way. Girls who were fast to tears were scoffed at. When they didn't stand properly and were hit, they were called idiots and more laughs were garnered. Many of the girls were dehumanized before they were even asked any questions. "This girl", the second headmaster would begin, "is an orphan. She has come to Kayuki and has been nothing but trouble. She's been a whore; can't you see that she will always be country trash?" Nearly all of the instigators of the Tuesday sneering were orphans. One by one, some of my best students (the free thinking ones) were brought up in front of all the teachers, called whores, and lesbians and the like and beaten into submission. Three days earlier, not a single person or object was physically harmed during the gathering that sparked this whole mess.

All the while I constantly had thoughts of leaving the country. How could I work with any of these people again after knowing what they are capable of. After knowing that the violence perpetuated that day was justified in the minds of all the participants except for myself. How could I forgive myself for not having stood on some sort of moral high ground and prevented it from happening? Fuck. That kept coming into my mind. How fucked up will I be when this is over?

Oh, it messed with me all right. I wasn't sure whether I should call Peace Corps right then and ask for a school transfer or early termination or wait it out until mid-service conference. These thoughts ran through my mind again and again, but I also thought about how other Tanzanian schools operate in a similar way and there have been even worse horror stories. I thought about how leaving would show all the Tanzanians I had met that, indeed, Americans are far different from them and we cannot be expected to work together. I thought about the two year commitment that I had made to myself, to finish my service abroad.

After the kangaroo court ended, and I was able to walk out of the computer room which was now tainted with the days events I was finally able to breathe fresh and begin to compose myself. A conversation about free will and the laws of Tanzania with one of the new teachers helped to calm me and express how I felt that violence begot violence and that maybe the girls would listen if we explained that student protests were feared legitimately because so many other schools (boys schools or coed) had been destroyed by student riots; that we could have turned the whole process into a learning experience, without the use of brute force. Then, when I saw the smiling face of a student who had been beaten as she carried a bucket of water into the office building, I realized that the whole thing was ridiculous. No one had been killed, but from my perspective, a horrible atrocity had occurred that day. In reality, similar things happen every day in Tanzania and countless other countries in the world. In reality, people are summarily executed for inciting a protest in some places in the world. In reality, life is f*ing violent for most people. The fact that I come from a middle class American bubble made the whole affair so ugly. The fact that I want to become a doctor and therefore bear only tenderness in my heart for all human kind also made it difficult, but don't doctors deal with the consequences of violence all the time? The girls had survived that day and most of them would continue studying at Kayuki after completing other punishments and suspensions. Despite having words with the second headmaster, there was nothing else I could do in that situation short of disrespecting the way that everyone else thought the issue should be handled, and jeopardizing my work here. My leaving wouldn't help any of those girls.

What it comes down to is, yes it is difficult as hell to see people commit real, violent acts against others (though we enjoy it in the movies), but to be able to come out of it and say ok, that was awful for me, but I don't want to walk away from the situation or culture that produced it. I would rather mull it over rationally, level it philosophically, and decide whether or not we can continue living and working together. It is somewhat irksome for those would be moral stalwarts who always "stand up for what's right," and believe me it leaves a sick feeling in the stomach sometimes, but it is also what makes a diplomat. It is about understanding that there are different ways of living through a day everywhere you go, looking the most foreign of those in the face and coming out of the whole thing with a deeper appreciation for this little mess we call existence. If you don't come out of it with appreciation, there's always the depression rout, which I considered but decided would be counter productive. Suffice it to say I recently finished The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.

PS. My memory card reader is on the fritz, so pictures haven’t been making their way to the wide web. I’ll see a man about a usb cable.

Back to school, back to school to prove to students that they are not fools. Most of my students at Kayuki Secondary carry the attitude of that I observed in many of my fellow college students: questioning is bothersome. And that includes answering the teacher’s questions. Anybody, anybody… With this being the first week back from our month long break, I hope that I can start fresh and get these girls using their inner skeptic. It is a real challenge to get any participation at all except from the most outspoken students. First I thought that the main problem was lack of confidence in using English. That’s fine. But since the beginning of the school year in January, I’ve been teaching primarily in Swahili. Notes on the board come out as English but my explanations of diagrams and physical phenomena are in a mish-mash of two languages. There are simply no good words in Swahili for “refraction.” I can do my level-best with “kupinda njia ya mwanga.” But since the students are required to complete grueling exams in English, I should make more of an effort to help them improve.

Note to the Tanzanian Ministry of Education and Peace Corps: send English teachers. We should be assigning teachers to elementary schools to teach English and to teach students that asking questions is a sign of intelligence (especially the kind that is exercisable). Change in education must come from the bottom up. It is unlikely that people change their behavior later in life, therefore, instill the kind of critical thinking skills that are desirable for higher learning when students are young before other behaviors take precedence. Blah blah blah.

In other news, I’m unofficially the official health guru for villagers and school staff. I suppose this development began last February when I bandaged up S. Karapa’s split-open finger and sent her to get stitches at the hospital. In reality, she just went to the nearest dispensary and the smeared her with gentian violent and plaster. I saw her almost a week later with the same damn bandage on looking like it had gone through the digestive system of a ruminant. “Ok,” I said “but you need to change the bandage.” Unfortunately, she was afraid to unwrap the thing because of the pain it would cause. I told her that if she didn’t keep it clean it would cause worse pain that she thought possible. Three house calls later, I was satisfied with the dryness of the wound and stopped seeing her often (it’s a trek into the valley). Since then, there’s been a trickle of people who come specifically to Kayuki Secondary to see me. One such occasion Mama Siri, my house help, brought the son of the local plumber to the school with a small puncture on his left knee. Upon examination, I found that whatever he had landed on had pierced clear through the dermis and there was a small cavity between his skin and patella. Poor little guy, I aspirated with my mono-ject syringe (you know the one you get after your wisdom teeth are removed, I knew there was a reason I brought it) and filtered-boiled water. Unfortunately, butterfly bandages wouldn’t hold because someone had smeared his leg with honey. I can’t decide if this was ingenious on their part or just a pain in the butt. Clean cotton and an ace bandage—which will impress any Tanzanian btw—did the trick nicely although I haven’t done a follow-up.

It starts getting a little more “real” when people start asking you to give them injections. My own personal aspirations aside, it is not at all wise to go about handing out injections for every little annoyance. Therefore I told my TZian twin (he calls me that) that I would get some crystal penicillin but that we should keep it on hand for a real emergency. The fact that his right inguinal lymph node was swollen to high-hell seemed to me a good sign—that the hot compresses were stirring things up and getting fluids moving up to the trunk again. Things are always more complicated with elephantitus don’t ya know. Anyway he’s got to get other things in his life sorted out, especially the drinking.

In other news, I’ve become somewhat apprehensive about a media program at Kayuki. Until students become more proficient at using computers and we do some general upgrades of hardware, running video editing software would present more problems than anything else. Also, I’ve stepped up the course-work form my Physics students and hence increased my own work-load. No worries. Villagers from Bujela, Itura and Ngujubwaje all are interested in learning about permaculture gardening and there is a plan in the works for weekly sessions at a demonstration/research plot out in the boonies. It’ll be hard especially since most people know a lot about farming already. What seems to surprise them is the methods for fertilizing the soil that they are not taking advantage. Kumbe! Actually, I didn’t know that 1 part urine mixed with 5 parts water was somehow as good as commercial urea either.

Well that’s the news from Tukuyu. Say hello to the country for me.

Well, we wrapped up(sort of) the first term at Kayuki Secondary. After grading the physics exams and writing my end of term report for peace corps, the nearby and wonderful PCVs: Amber and Kavisa came to Kayuki, and together, we facilitated the first Girls Empowerment/HIV,AIDS awareness confrence at site. We also received tremendous support from each of our counterparts Lukasa, Elizabeth and Gloria. Many thanks to them who ran excellent sessions and were absolutely essential players in a successful event.

What surprised (and delighted) us was the level of enthusiasm that the girls maintained almost constantly for the duration of the three days of sessions and which culminated in an extraordinary presentation of peer education skills planned and rehearsed by our confrence participants. about 150 Kayuki students attended the show and learned about good decision making skills, safe behavior models, and how to use condoms via all student skits and demonstrations.

...I say, simply wonderful. Now that the confrence is over and I'm finished filling out those nasty student report cards (my signature actually started failing toward the end because of the yips) I get to enjoy some vacation. Well, not yet, but having arrived in Dar es Salaam, the seat of urbanity in East Africa I feel like vacation has already started despite the fact that I'll technically be in PSDN (Peer Support and Diversity Network) training for the next three days. Badaa ya hapo lakini, I'm going to Zanzibar to enjoy Stonetown, Jovani forest, and hopefully a beach stroll and a dip in the ocean.

Post your shout out to Zanzibar now and I'll be sure to deliver the message when I arrive there.

The beginning of last post may have painted a bleak picture of my experiences in the past month of service. This post is about something good. Food! One of the best things about food in Tanzania is that a much high percentage of the produce is grown and consumed locally. So along with this thought, here's another mini-lesson in swahili (refer to the pics). "Ya kinyeji," which translates as "locally made" has become my mantra while shopping in the local markets. The difference is most apparent in the eggs that are available. For 150 shillings you can buy a yai la kisasa, or "modern egg." Laid by kuku wa kizungu (foreign chickens) fed mostly pumba (corn meal). OR, for 200 shillings a difference of about 5 cents in USD, you can get a "yai la kinyeji". Chickens that forage for insects and seeds and wander far from their coops. The difference is like that described in Omnivores dilemma.

A new chapter starts as we continue with the school year at Kayuki Secondary. In attempts to improve the future examination outcomes of our form II and form IV students, members of the school staff have been requested to put in extra teaching and conference hours. Between my extra “remedial” courses for form IIs and the continuing computer lab schedule life is as busy as ever. One new development should prove to be very helpful to preparing students for the national examinations (NECTA) that is having received numerous past papers in digital format from fellow PCVs. I hope to categorize the questions based on their topic outline in the syllabus so that teachers wishing to write tests can draw upon a NECTA type question bank.

Unfortunately with increased discipline among students and staff, corporal punishment has also increased to keep stride. Today, May 1, “May day” is supposed to be a day of rest for the world’s workers and about 30 students seemed to think that day of rest also applied to them. However, on my way to the offices, there they were in two rows straining in frozen pushups supported by there clenched fists and knuckles against the ground. When their strength would give out, down onto their knees they’d go and hold up their hands to receive the kiboko. All around the school, other students were busied with cutting grass or cleaning classrooms and dormitories. No holiday for Kayuki girls.

Yesterday we had a sport day where we invited the teachers of Lutengano Secondary (Amber’s site) to compete in basketball and volleyball here at Kayuki. They showed up in force with something like 15 competitors. We only had enough for a team of 5 with 2 substitutions. So, what happens when you take 9 competitive Tanzanians and get them playing a game that hardly any of them know? A lot of holding, shoving and just plain dirty ball. Since David Mwaipopo and I have actually played together a bit we pretty much dominated. The other team got possession of the ball enough, but no one could score worth a damn. Every time we scored a point, hell broke loose. The 500 or so Kayuki students who had been slowly accumulating at the edges of the court would go into fits of soccer-fan elation. Each time we got a basket, they’d flood the court and scream, as though it were the winning point of a playoff game. Of course I thought it was inappropriate behavior, but Amber told me it was the same whenever they had a soccer match at Lutengano. By the end of the match and volleyball, I was worn out mostly by the energy the students were radiating. Although I was a little overwhelmed by all the excitement, I can see how it would be a really big deal for Kayuki girls to whip Lutengano. First off, Kayuki is an all-girl’s government school. Lutengano is a private, co-ed institution about twice the size. Kayuki has had abysmal results on the Form IV certificate examination in the past years; Lutengano’s have been middle of the road. I suppose that school pride is one thing that gives students motivation to work hard and study for the NECTAs. We teachers were practically carried out of the arena like champions. It’d be nice to see the girl’s compete as well, and our student b-ball side is really quite good, considering. Maybe that’s the next step, after teachers break the seal, students will push for matches for themselves.

"It's comin' right for us" IST is here and we're chilling in Njombe. We had fierce but enlightening debates about how to approach secondary projects and work within our communities here in the Southern Highlands of TZ. During the course of the session on grant writing I had some odd epiphanies and heretical thoughts.

So here we are in Africa me an a whole slew of other PCVs and we're working directly or indirectly on lending a hand to the educational, economical, and social development of the peoples here. I must emphasize that we all pretty much share a desire to work toward sustainability and have community change come from within rather than from a know-nothing foreigner. This is why we generally approach our projects as mere facilitators who can help spark the desire to find out what sorts of activities will help a given community raise it's standard of living (warning, heavy philosophical argument approaching).

Of course, first it is critical to identify and even agree on what changes in people's lives actually lead to a "higher" quality of living. For example is it a car, enough food, education, a large family, the right to have several wives and children in and out of wed-lock? These are fundamental questions that anyone anywhere in the world should tackle before beginning the discussion on development.

In my eyes, having the necessities such as food, shelter, and at least bit of a community are sufficient underpinnings for a perfectly happy life--that is unless you've seen how the "other half" (in this case 10%) lives. The thing about it is ignorance really may be bliss. Although I advocate an active, questioning mentality, I have gleaned certain truths from various faiths and spiritual practices that seem to have a much more significant effect on overall happiness than material things. HOWEVER, from a conversation and from the grit on every TZian relationship I've heard about the measure of "good life" among young people in Tanzania is material wealth. Of course the conversations I've had lean to my vocalizing a skeptical nature and reviewing what truly makes for a good life. Is it spiritual happiness or is it the number of offspring you sire/bear? Indeed, Tanzanians are very developed in terms of participation in organized religion and through association, commercial spirituality. Yet most see their lives rife with want. It is neither surprising nor unreasonable for them to feel this way. A Radiolab program on public radio in the last 6 months described a study where three groups of chimpanzees were given different environments (cages) to interact with. On the low end were plain wire cages and chimps who were more isolated from each other. In the middle, more chimps shared a much more safi cage with plant materials to forage for, toys to engage them etc. Finally there was a real Ritzy cage where the chimps could spend time in large groups and they had even more natural and artificial materials to interact with. The study found that the chimps in the meso-developed cage had 30-40% "bushier neurons" compared to chimps on the low end of accommodation. That is to say that the brain cells of the middle-class chimps were highly networked, communicating about and responding to a varied environment. The chimps were more engaged in their surroundings and according to Jad, "more alive." This has raised an interesting question in my mind. First off, were the chimps in the low or middle end accommodations made aware of their brethren enjoying or loathing significantly different circumstances? If they weren't, what would be the effect of adding this component to the experiment? I should mention that the study also found almost no difference in the dendritic arbors of middle-class chimps and upper-class ones. That is, the study suggested that there was a threshold level of material wealth that made the chimps more bright-eyed and "bushy-brained." Beyond that threshold, chimps' brains showed no statistical difference.

As I am increasingly, convinced of my own "need" for many material goods in order to live a happy, productive life. I can understand what the common human tendency and desire leads us to do. We acquire more things, and we feel better for it...up to a point. So where is that point, and if you see other human beings enjoying a much higher material standard, does it actually change the bushiness of your dendritic arbors? If watching people with much more material wealth enjoy what they have makes you actually less content with what you have may it be beyond the happiness threshold or not, then what are we to do as creatures attempting to manage our resources and live "sustainable lives?

Meanwhile, I am living happily in Tanzania, learning cultural nuances and a new method of communication. I do care deeply for the people I've come to know on a personal level, and their welfare has become intertwined with my own. On an emotional level, I am bouncing back and forth between two worlds, that of the haves and have-nots. But a large percentage of the have-nots in my area are quite well fed and clothed by international standards. They are also living beside the owners of land rovers and chai estate proprietors, not to mention teachers who dress in their Sunday best everyday of the week. I am much poorly attired in fact. Nearly every Tanzanian man I've met who is above the age of 25 has a much spiffier cell phone though they haven't a clue how to use it.

The point I'm trying to make is development is happening in Tanzania. And it's happening fast! There was something like 8% economic growth in the last period and it shows no signs of slowing (barring a global recession). But, as a biologist I wonder about the future of humanity on the blue planet. Is development the answer to our resource crunch? Is it good management to bring up the (material) living standard of everyone in the world? According to my emotional-ethical brain it is. But, if we are concerned about the future generations of humankind, then where is our management strategy for the development of Africa? Have I missed the train of big-wigs who purposely engineer policy to slow the development of a people in order to buffer gaia from the ills of man? Slow it to a near standstill...for centuries. That's how it feels living in Africa, except that now the stoppers are coming out and the maji is rolling. Don't misunderstand, I am not a proponent of a colonial-era, parental attitude toward any other culture, but I am interested in the biological-ecological factors that humankind has significant impact on. I also would like us to make it a considerable while longer as a living species. Why? Well, I'm an altruist stupid!

Please, you must comment on this and tell me what your views on this discussion are.

I met a really interesting woman today in Mbeya. Her name is Liz, late 40s early 50s she has her own organization called EveryChildEveryVillage. Their main goal is to reduce primary schools' dependence on books. She sees that books are a great asset, but it isn't working to rely on the rest of the world supplying them to schools in Africa. So she goes into classrooms and paints all over the walls, turns them into blackboards at eye level to the little pupils. It's a totally interactive class setting where you get a student working and learning at one station and then move diagonally across the room to another station at the wall. She says that it's been showing amazing results, even though she was an RN and doesn't have formal education, in well Education. In stories, I mentioned that I had been a film major and wanted to get a media project going at Kayuki Girls. She may be our first "job" First I need to train the students how to use a digital camera, tripod and, finally how to cut slide shows on the computers we have at school. It seems like such an awesome project. I only wish I had more time to do these things rather than be mostly a Physics teacher *YAWN* ya know. I'm trying to make it interesting so maybe I can just work it in to my physics club. Hey I just had an epiphany...

I have just completed a week long training session about how to prevent new HIV infections from occuring in our Tanzanian communities. The program is part of PEPFAR (Presidents Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) and for better or worse, we PCVs are supposed to lump whatever work we do toward imcreasing the level of understanding about HIV/AIDS into PEPFARS goals. Unfortunately, most of the PEPFAR budget that goes to prevention goes to "AB" training. "Abstain and Be faithful to your partner" Unfortunately the Institute of Medicine has found abstinence education be ineffective at preventing new infections.

ABC can be taught to students after the age of 14. AB which was described before in addition to C which is use a Condom. None of the PEPFAR money can be used to buy condoms except for demonstration of their use. And we are talking about a lot of money $15B was planned for the first round and a PEPFAR 2 is expected to reauthorize funds. It is definitely important to shirikiana with TZ in their fight against the epidemic, but how can we do so in a effective, sustainable, ethical way?

Actually it began 24 years and six days ago, but that's beside the point. The academic year has gotten of to a bouncy though average start. After one week about one half to two thirds of the Kayuki Girls had arrived. Needless to say this makes teaching a little odd, considering that a large number of my students missed the early material. Slow is the pace to go. Fast, fast has no blessing: if you care to reverse the proverb. This is fine with me. I'm not really feeling the weight on my shoulders to save the world. In general we simply have to make it through the day. And making it through the days has proved to be much easier than I expected. I can't attribute where these past three weeks have gone, but they've positively whipped by.

First I was introduced at morning assembly where the girls stand in lines and sing the national anthem or school pride songs. Then announcements and daily punishment, for those who arrived late to school from their respective homes or for any of a large number of other infractions which I have yet to understand require being hit on the hand with a stick. Girls who woke up late, failed to supply a stamp on an envelope with an official form inside, or the form at all, girls who shirked their yardwork duties. etc. etc. I'm not the best at interpreting the reasons behind each of these sessions but it occurs every day without fail.

I can't pass judgement on such a practice: right or wrong. The cultural context is rooted deep in the past and I don't know enough nor do I presume to know how to raise young people from childhood to the responsibility of adulthood. What I do see is that the punishment seems so commonplace, that the teachers, and girls alike make a show of it. Even when the sticks break apart from striking with such force, there is some laughter at the flinches of the cowering recipient.

I've already made it clear to the staff that I will not beat the girls, but that I may think of some alternative means of discipline (although I was never much disciplined by others and fail to see the value in it most of the time). I am scheduled to be a Teacher on Duty this coming week, so we will see what works out. I fear that I am too easy going and thus will not be able to recognize when girls are in the wrong. Fortunately or unfortunately, I doubt I will ever find it in me to punish a girl for having a broken zipper on her skirt, an untucked-in shirt or for being late to class. Since most of the time that girls are late for morning classes it's because they were getting the "kiboko" (whips were once made of hippo hide).

Meanwhile, the eager minds of teenage girls have me reeling, and I hardly know what to do with myself. Apart from teaching 27 40-minute periods a week. I've set up the 14 computers that work so the girls can use them three nights a week to study physics. Soon I may start a pen-pal project with the Form IIIA class who all asked me if they could get "marafiki wa kimarekani". At some point in the future I really want to pursue the media literacy club that I've alluded to in emails or previous posts. Perhaps after our (Amber, Kavisa and myself) June girls leadership and life skills conference that we are planning for the month of June. It's a long time coming, and there is so much potential.

I've noticed a lot in the three weeks at Kayuki girls. First, we are miserably understaffed. There are five science teachers for about 570 enrolled students. At a recent building capacity meeting, the mkuu highlighted the goal of improving the level of education at the school, but then said that the teachers should reduce the use of lecture lessons by half. I had to mention that step one should be to recruit more teachers period. It's the condition of the system here where if you become a teacher, you get money to continue education at the university level. This unfortunately sucks teachers away from secondary schools at a prodigious rate. Kayuki is hurting now after losing 19 instructors last year of whom most returned to college to get their diploma. I only hope that after becoming more educated, a large number return to the classroom. However, the ways things are it doesn't seem that this is the case. Because you can become a teacher after leaving form four without getting high marks on the standard exam: a large number of new teachers here never wanted to be teachers in the first place. Therefore when they work up the means to continue education they gladly seem to be moving on. The result is a vacuum of school personel that leaves us where we are.

Not at all to be discouraged however. I'm excited to be here and very happy with my working arrangements. My co-workers are interesting and helpful. I look forward to working well together. As the time has gone fleetingly thus far I can only imagine that two years from now will come about no later than this summer and I will returning to the United States in no time at all, wondering how bad the reverse culture shock will be. My thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes.

Kiswahili phrase of the week: ubao unanigonga-->literally, "the wood is banging me" it's slang for "I'm hungry".

The Holidays have come and gone, and I don't seem to be any wiser about the human condition. Even now I wonder at how I am able to spend 2000 shillings on using the internet when I could buy lunch for the poor Tanzanian down the street. I guess constantly going through these feelings at least means that I am questioning. I share food when I'm asked for it anyway. This is not a defensive statement, but I've been reading "Mountains Beyond Mountains" the story of Paul Farmer and it's hard not to feel like a shmuck.

Cooking a turkey for 45 orphans at the Iwambi center for Olive Branch for Children was a fun adventure. I was happily roped into it by Deborah, the founder and executive of the NGO. She turns out to be a wonderful neighbor only an hour and a half away from my site.

A little more than two weeks ago I escorted a guard at the school to the hospital. It seemed that he had elephantitis of his right leg, but I wanted to get x-rays to make sure that it wasn't actually an infection that had entered the bone. They only cost 2000 shillings (see what I mean). Luckily we didn't see any weakening of Elias's shin and he had already gone through the anti-trichonosis regimen (which only somewhat helps). In any event I saw the hospital and found out that there would be a doctor from Finland visiting to speak about UKIMWI (HIV/AIDS). A couple of days later I met in the conference room with hospital staff and the good doctor--who's name I have shamelessly forgotten and will fill in later. I made some excellent contacts in the hospital and among members of the Lutherin Church who are doing work to mitigate the impact of UKIMWI in my district. I look forward to future collaborations with some of my students and community leaders/activists.

I'm also exploring the idea of a media literacy project in Tanzania. After a comment made by a gentleman in his fifties about his children incessantly watching television and the people of Tanzania having only recently been exposed to many images of westernized media, I realized that this could potentially be having a serious effect on peoples' behavior. It'd be interesting to put together a survey to see how many of my students watch television on a regular basis and what they consider to be true to reality in the programming. All this is in it's infancy stages (ie knocking around in my brain) but I end up attempting to put together something of a media production corps in order give young girls the knowledge and power to produce their own mass media messages. We'll see where this goes.

I've been at Kayuki for 12 days and things are beginning to settle. I've spent much of the time preparing the house to be actually lived in: ordering furniture to be made, buying various kitchen items, food etc. The surround is spectacular! I am on the crown of a small rise just South of Mt. Rungwe. I'm perched high enough over the rolling hills of the Rungwe tea plantations that in the distant South (in the evening) I can just barely see Lake Nyasa through the haze. The 8-story water tower in the center of School grounds makes an excellent lookout/meditation-spot/owl-hideout. You should see all the pellets. I could assemble a small rodent skeleton every day of the week for the next 6 months. I'm gearing up for all sorts of projects, and in particular getting a compost pile going.

The night I arrived at school I attended the school closing assembly. The assistant headmaster (mkuu wa pili) gave a lively speech and allowed me to introduce myself. When I mentioned I would be teaching the girls physics, I was met with applause. Clearly, I've come to where I'm able to do a lot of work (there are only 5 science teachers at Kayuki and none were currently teaching physics).

The gated school grounds probably cover 20 acres or so of hilly but infrastructured land. The whole area used to be involved with a Chinese coal mining company. Concrete roadways, geometric drainage troughs, and long buildings used as housing speak to the industrial nature of the place, but there is a vibrant quality that reminds me of a sleep away camp in the Adirondacks. Maybe it's the evergreen trees or the thunderstorms or the fact that many of the teachers live on school grounds, forming what turns out to be a neat little community. Faraja, the girl pictured with me, is the house help of the headmistress who kindly fed me for the first 5 days at site, before I had an operable kitchen.

So far so good. I can't imagine how buzzing the school grounds will be when students return in the second week of January.

Mbeya, where I will eat loads of ndizi (bananas) I'm told. It is a new site, so I get to move myself in and customize the set up. Excellent, can't wait to get started on my garden. I'm being installed during the rainy season too, which is the right time to plant fruit trees and other crops. My site is not too far from the norther tip of Lake Nyasa (others call it L Malawi) which is supposedly home to the most beautiful beach in Tanzania's mainland, Mtema. Everything is looking excellent, I'm very pleased to be going to the Southern highlands, although I'm told it rains 10 months out of the year. The cooler weather up there will calm my sweat apparatus some, and I may even miss the climate of Morogoro some.

Not very sure what to expect at an all girls boarding school. Some of my peers have been speculating that I've been placed at the site that was intended for a 62 year old woman who left the program before finishing training. She was an IT/computer teacher and it may be related to the fact that the school I'm going to just received a donation of 20 computers. Looks like I'll be brushing up on my techno babble.

I'm finished learning Kiswahili in the classroom but Peace Corps training will continue for another two weeks. The high-point of this wiki iliyopita was definitely the permaculture session where I learned much about trapping water and which fruits and veges to plant in my garden when I get to post. I can't wait, eight months from now I may be eating papaya from my own plot of land. Permaculture also seems like an excellent secondary project to become involved in. Providing a source of nutritious food and a means to grow more of it seems to be an excellent way to cross into the medical profession. The best way to treat disease is to prevent it altogether. I still haven't seen the conditions I will be facing for the two years I will be in Tanzania after training, however, I plan on implementing what I've learned thus far, and see where it takes us. I believe that the most important aspect of Peace Corps service is the basic human interaction that takes place between a PCV and the people they meet in country.

Kiswahili of the week:

hadi hapo --> until then

unakuwaje? --> how are things? (like mambo)

Yeah we just got back from Mikumi national park where we saw all the big ones: Baboon, zebra, giraffe, elephant, impala, red buck, water buffalo, hippo, croc, and lions!! There was a mating pair in the park the first evening because the female was in heat. Amazing to see these animals only a couple of meters away. There were also these beautiful birds called lilac breasted rollers. One of the older women in our group is a real birder and she describes them by saying they have more colors than should be allowed on one bird. I'm putting some of the pics of the trip of Facebook so take a look see.

Words of the week: "Bila shaka" --> without a doubt

"umeulamba!" --> you're looking good

more later...

This is my Tanzanian host family who I live with while training in Morogoro. Familia ya Omari Dudu!

"Everything is clean/cool." It has been almost one month since my arrival in Tanzania, yet I have experienced only Morogoro and a smidge of Dar es Salaam. It will be three weeks until I find out where in Tanzania Peace Corps Tanzania will send me for the following two years. It may be the mountains inland from Tanga where the weather is cool and you can get "mzungu" vegetables like broccoli and zucchini. Or I might be sent to the coast near Lindi or Mtwara where it is constantly hot and humid, but you can swim in the ocean. Or there's the central regions like Dodoma, where water is scarce and gales frequently blow up desert dust storms that send people in doors and sometimes shut businesses down. I can make certain requests about where I'd like to be posted, but it is clear that the PCTs are not to expect to arrive at a region of their choosing.

In other news, My family celebrated the end of Ramadon with the day of Idd this Saturday. A nephew and a sister in law as well as some friends of Salumu, the oldest son of my family all came by to eat chakula cha mchana (lunch). My kiswahili teacher, Chacha stopped by also and I struggled to keep up with his conversation with my host father about the practicality of faith and various religions, and whether or not a person must suffer for another to gain. I tried to explain my essentially buddhist philosphy of understanding that my being isn't at all seperate from the universe around me. Therefore, it is in my interst to see others around me succeed in life and be happy.

For the next 8 weeks I will be training in for going to post somewhere (yet unknown) in Tanzania. There are several components to the training regime. Most important is community integration. I am staying with a Tanzanian host family and every day we interact together and within the community. We are studying kiswahili 5 days a week from 8am to 4pm and I'm improving fast. Sasa ninaweza kuzumgumza kidogo na watu wa Morogoro. Baada ya kozi ya kiswahili kusema vizuri sana.

My host family is very warm and kind. They have the surname Dudu and they are currently observing the 25 days of Ramadon. Every day, they break the fast at 6:35pm.

It is surprising how quickly I can feel at home in the household, and It is excellent practicing kiswahili with them. Already I can feel myself integrating into the community and it feels great. I have always hated being simply a tourist. Each time I hear the word, muzungu (foreigner), I can stop and say, "I am not foreigner, I am called Sky." This and common greetings in kiswahili sets me far apart from westerners traveling through the area, and it helps me to stay safe. When the community knows and likes me, I will have as strong a support network as anywhere in the world.

I am enjoying the cultural differences such as eating with my hands (though not every family does this), personal contact, and extended greeting. Everything is wonderful and I have had no problems.

So, I've got my slacks all together, 10 pairs of underwear, 12 pairs of sturdy socks, 7 button down shirts, fleeces, sandals, text books etc. I'll be packing most of it into my trusty Kelty frame pack (model unknown) that I've had since Boy Scouts. My strategy is to roll or fold the clothes into a rectangular mound. Then use a lightweight sheet to tie it into a neat bundle.

This works well for a couple of reasons; you get to pack a sheet (extremely useful for any trip), the closing mechanism of my pack seems to work better the more stuffed it is. It has two black catches that a drawstring cord hooks under while the upward-bulging load provides tension to keep the string hooked. Simple and ingenious really.

The one unfortunate downside of my kelty pack is it's rather limited compartment space. I would guess 2400 cubic inches. The great thing about an external frame, however is the expandability it offers by way of lashing extra gear wherever it comfortably fits. I used my two clasp buckled belts (which I planned to pack anyway) and an elastic band I salvaged from a flood-damaged photo album to secure my sleeping bag to the outside of the lumbar cradle.

This arrangement works great, I've got room to spare in my pack. A word about air travel. Even though I've checked this bag to Guatemala and China, and never lost any items, I've decided to put the whole thing in a duffel. Not only are the packs extremities protected, but I get to bring an extra bag which may come in handy while I'm in Tanzania and for the return trip. Also, I've packed most metallic items (knives, sharp tweezers, etc.) to the outer pockets. On an X-ray, the inner core should look blank and if security wants to check anything out, they hopefully will skip rooting through the clothes. Well, that's all for now, I still have to get some gifts for a prospective host family. Ciao.

No Money!

I spent my last large chunk of change on American soil today. What did I buy you ask? Clothes mostly for my journey to Tanzania, where the people apparently expect you to wear "slacks". I'm not sure exactly what constitutes a pair of slacks, but I bought some comfy dark-khaki-casual dress pants. Next on the list was a pair of light "quick dry" pants. These turned out to be my big ticket item in fact. Thanks Dicks. I'm also trying out skype for the first time, though I'm not sure how well it will go over in my African post yet.

Well, the flood damage is mostly taken care of (yes my basement flooded recently) and I think my Peace Corps Volunteer Registration form is still acceptable, even if it has that ripply, obviously-soaked-at-one-point look. Write this one down: Carbon paper + water = mess. With the carpet all pulled out, I'm reminded of the hours during my childhood spent playing on roller racers.

Anyway, this was the first ever blog posting by Schuyler James Wood, so mark your history books or whatever you do when an egghead goes on an ego trip.

peace