Volunteering Week 2: Melissa

The volunteering continues to be extremely challenging. Perhaps I have said this before, it makes being an assistant dean at USC Law and the start-up president of IKAR (combined!) seem like a walk in the park.

We have gotten to know most of the kids’ names at our school placement—though with 50 of them, and so many coming in and out on random days, we are still working on it. It’s hard to know whether this preschool is a good example of the way the educational system works, but if so, I can see why so many people struggle. The focus is clearly on rote memorization without any focus at all on teaching application skills. The teacher spends day after day forcing them to recite and write the numbers 1-10 or a-e-i-o-u (not sure why vowels and not the alphabet). Besides being hideously boring for the kids (and us), it clearly is not working. If you point to, say “9” they have no ability to identify it correctly. We have been attempting to devise activities to do that to help them learn to identify and use the numbers and letters. Some have been successful and some, not so much. For example, the charm of Dr. Seuss is clearly lost on them. Between their extremely limited English skills and the fact that it is so outside their normal learning process, it’s just a stretch. We are really learning as we go and trying to do the best we can. Of course, the introduction of more active lessons has substantially exacerbated the dust problem in the classroom. I can only imagine what the inside of our lungs will look like after two weeks—not to mention the lungs of the kids who are there all the time.

One fortunate devolopment in the volunteering arena is the addition of two 17 year old local boys, Steven and Farahad, who have started to accompany us to the school to help translate. They are terrific kids--completely different from any 17 year old boys I have met in the States. They are both waiting for their exam results to see if they will be able to proceed to the next level of school and seem to have nothing else to do. They do not seem to be plagued with the need to be cool as their American peers would be and, shockingly, don’t seem to mind hanging around with a middle aged woman and a bunch of kids. Spending time with them has been a highlight of the volunteering for me, not only because of translation assistance, but also because they help me get a more complete picture of life in Rau, Tanzania—everything from Bongo Star Search (essentially Tanzanian Idol), to the process of the school system and the favorite local hang outs. We have visited one of their homes a few times and even got a cooking lesson from Momma Changa, Steven’s mom. Of course, I had to fight my anal retentive chef cooking instincts—but once I got past that, it was fabulous experience and quite delicious (green bananas with meat, carrots, onions, tomatoes—really delicious).

Emma has started to come to our placement with us and it has been an interesting change. In many ways, it is very helpful to have her around—she is another pair of hands to help bring order to the chaos, she loves the kids and they adore playing with a Mzunga who is closer to their age. On the other hand, she is nine years old, and from time to time, it feels like I have another kid to keep track of and entertain. In addition, she and Maya bicker from time to time, adding another layer of challenge. I have tried to impress upon them that among their many roles as volunteer teachers is to set an example of appropriate behavior. For the most part, they get it, but they are kids and siblings and a few unpleasant moments are impossible to avoid. Another interesting wrinkle of Emma’s presence is her, shall I say, slightly disheveled appearance. The Tanzanian people are very conscious of presenting themselves in neat and professional fashion and, as anyone who as ever met Emma knows, she does not set the greatest example in than regard. As scruffy as she can look at home, the addition of the dust, dirt and camp atmosphere, has made her less than a shining example of a clean and well turned out American kid.

I am still really struggling with even the most rudimentary Swahili. Each day, the teacher has them go through this routine in Swahili to welcome me. They say “Shikamoo Walimu” (essentially, “teacher, we give you our respect”) and then some other things that I can barely catch. It’s been two weeks and I still don’t think I am responding appropriately. The teacher probably thinks I am a complete idiot. You would think that my 17 plus years of education, much of it at fancy private schools, would be of some use. Not so much. My Swahili needs serious work. Of course, it is hard to imagine any practical long term use for this new found knowledge, albeit limited. With two weeks to go (hard to believe!) it’s extremely difficult to really motivate my slow brain, particularly given that in less than three weeks I will have to start learning Thai! At least Swahili uses the same alphabet.

I think the hardest part of this whole experience is the constant nag that I am really not adding any value. I feel like I have gone from one of the most productive people I know, to the absolute least. My fever pitch has come to a crashing halt. Truly, I am not even sure my vital organs are functioning at normal speed and I know that my blood pressure is significantly lower. I am both proud and horrified by this development. Proud, because I really was not sure that I was capable of slowing down and I simply could not have continued at the frantic pace of the past few years. I am also so pleased to have time to be a mother to my children in a present and unhurried way. I am horrified because I truly want to contribute something of value to this amazing country and feel that I have yet to do so. Thus far, I feel like I am benefiting more from the experience than providing any kind of real service.